Looking back at her are two children, roughly the same age -- maybe nine or ten, although they're both so skinny they might be a bit older. The blonde one is him, the resemblance is clear and it feels as if he's looked this way the entire time; the other is unknown, genderless and nearly colourless as well, like an outline with a single wash of watercolour that no one remembered to finish. They're simultaneously absolutely distinct and the same person.

And at the same time as that he is also Uri, the adult, with the scarred hand and tired eyes.

The children are arguing; the second one says jump, the blonde says no. He's afraid to leave her behind. She says she'll follow, but he's afraid because how will he know?

A hand breaks from over the edge on the other side of the building; a head, with that glowing red eye, emerges a second later. He-she-they turn all at once and then he-she-they is/are making that jump -- no other choice.

Is he falling or flying? He can't tell the difference. He's definitely upside down, but Wolfgang's perception of reality is... skewed in the waking world; in dreams, he has even less of a grasp over the distinction. It would at least be nice if he could tell if he's supposed to be panicking or not. Still, he finds himself on the other roof, where he pauses to wonder briefly how he got there before moving again. This time it's him leaning over the edge, offering her a hand to pull her up. He's still all three people, all at once, which gives it the added element of surreality that a child somehow has the reach and strength to pull that off.

If they both made the jump, the HIT Mark almost certainly can. That is exactly what it's attempting to do, in fact.