Re: Disembarking: Jack/Heath/Chris
Jack felt a little fraudulent. All right, so he'd trudged alongside Heath in the snow but he hadn't made sure he didn't freeze. He was snow-dredged, water-logged as the heat bloomed into cold flesh with the sharp prickles of censure for getting just that cold that quickly. He could have lit some sort of fire along the way but even murder-trains didn't inspire the kind of loyalties that could get someone thrown into jail for missteps.
His body was a comma toward the heat vent and he could feel the clenched fist of his own breathing subside a little as heat worked its way back into his extremities with the uncomfortable waking sensation beginning in his fingers and starting up in the toes of his boots. They were undeniably close, Chris and Heath. It wasn't so much what they said, but the unconscious leaning together of siblings, like saplings grown out of the same plot.
"I don't drink," Jack said, which was broadly true. Mostly, anyway, "But I'll take a cup of tea. Coffee," he course-corrected, to the youth folded impossibly back on himself. "I'm not all that bothered by the evening events, it's not nearly the weirdest thing I've experienced." Which was true, and he returned the grin.