Robby's hand slid around his wrist, but he still had two fingers on Jack's radial pulse. Jack tried to think about the warmth of Robby's hand, not how quickly a person could become cold after circulation ceased. He tried to focus on whatever Robby needed him to focus on right now, even though he wasn't sure why. He did know why. But he didn't know why.

"Furnace," he said faintly. "Faucet dripping. Your voice."