Re: Disembarking: Jack/Heath/Chris
Heath said rather a lot into the biting wind that Jack filed if only to pry it apart for parts later. It wasn't that he was desperate to pull it to pieces, it was just rather like pieces of paper massed together with toffee, it made utter and complete sense it was all enmeshed but each piece of information casually (miserably, given the wind and the snow) dropped into conversation was a full operetta of information Jack had brushed past simply by being the man trudging at his side.
But anyway, the car. A figure, slight but clearly smartly dressed if not fully prepared for full on snowstorm conditions - but she had a car so it wasn't necessary - emerged, not hugely tall but powerfully family, if only by the way she threw herself at the kid, until he was enveloped in houndstooth. It didn't take all Jack's powers of observation, which were on the fritz a little given the severe frostbite developing imminently, to identify some major genetic differences in their background. Despite all seeming evidence to the contrary, Jack didn't actually feel the need to pry into the perfectly ordinary. This qualified.
"Hello, Chris," Jack said, about as reasonably as could be expected under the circumstances, and with gratitude for transportation rammed in as well, "You're wonderful. My favorite sibling of other people's so far," he said helpfully, and he dived into the recesses of the car, where the mulch of snow on his coat began immediately to thaw and drip.
"Christ alive," he said, as his extremities began to warm up and simultaneously sting so much they hurt, "I've never wanted a car more."