Re: first class - baths
"Can't you feel things, sometimes? The way people look at you, or how they react?" Jack was genuinely perplexed. He could distinctly remember more being spoken through looks alone than through words, though when he tried to remember who, he couldn't. A man, maybe. He remembered what his eyes looked like, but that was it. "Or maybe I just think I know," he added, thoughtful. To think that he was creating all this in his mind was disconcerting, but not all that far-fetched. "Well, I suppose that's a risk. But if other people are happy because of it, even if I'm not, doesn't that count for something?" He wasn't sure he would call himself happy. Unhappy seemed a stretch, too, so maybe he was somewhere in between. But in between wasn't much fun either. He would have wrinkled his nose, if he'd had one, when she said what she was supposed to be, but then he smiled when she declared that she'd changed everything. "Good," he said, as though he was an expert on what she should and shouldn't be. "Oh, I like--" And there he had to think for a moment or two. "I like fixing machines. Contraptions. With little bits and parts that make it all fit together and do things. I'm good at juggling heads, but it gets boring after a while." And he sighed, for added emphasis.
He didn't mind her volume. He liked being loud too, and more often than not, he was. "Everyone always wants things, don't they?" Bitterness had never been his style, but he thought he might be capable of it, with all these demands, these expectations, placed upon him. He would have blushed himself if there was blood in his veins to do so, but no, he wasn't her Mister J. He didn't think he could even pretend to be. "I don't think I'm very sweet, but we'll find you a Mister J," he said decisively. "One who doesn't want you to be anything except what you want to be." An upgrade of sorts. It would be perfect, even though he'd never, ever played matchmaker and for some reason he kept wanting to ask himself what the hell he thought he was doing. Oh well.
"To be the scariest, and to make plans and tell the Mayor what to do. He can never make decisions on his own," Jack sighed. Some good he was. A cursory glance around showed that no, there was no Sally, but he wasn't worried. "Oh, no. I don't think she is alive, so that doesn't matter." It didn't occur to him that he might have just given the pigtailed doctor permission to kill someone, since pretty much everybody he knew was already dead anyway, so what did it matter?