Re: Disembarking: Jack/Heath/Chris
Heath felt his family keenly, their presence more significant to him as their disparate natures made them cling closer to each other in the wash of anonymity that was the rest of the world. The Fairchild kids, far from being lost, leaned heavily on each other. In times of disaster, Heath always looked around for company, as much as in times of quiet he painted worlds of his own in sugar crystals.
Heath made sure that he budged up enough in the back seat of the car (more conveniently reached) that Jack had enough room, though both men were probably leaning into the tiny heater vents on the back center console as Chris returned to the car. Comfortable with his height and the length of his elbows, Heath stuck his head intimately between the seats to peer over Chris' shoulder and get a face full of that heater too, as they pulled away.
"Home is closer, I owe Jack a drink probably for being the LEAST weird out of this whole fucking night. So far, anyway." Heath shivered his shoulders and curled his chest over his knees, fuck the seatbelt. He gave Jack a half-hearted, blue-lipped grin. "Okay, it was kind of stupid to walk off. But I didn't want to hang around the creepy murder train anymore, so I took drastic measures."