Jack rose an eyebrow, looking for the weapons he was used to and expecting. Right, okay, not on John’s person--at least not anywhere Jack intended to be looking anywhere soon--so...right, Webley was staying at the ready under the coat, just in case.
“That tells me you weren’t one of the bunch that got stuck outside in this mess for very long. As far as the end of the world goes, we’re living pretty plush. Believe me, I know.”
It was horrible that thinking about that year he still couldn’t tell anyone about was less terrifying than thinking about what was apparently going to happen. What, when you got down to it, was all his fault. If he’d just held on tighter, if he’d been paying attention--
Grateful for his years of practice at extricating himself from his past, Jack plastered on that patented smile as he sat down. “Right. So.” A deep breath, and a glance at the alcohol. “You weren’t lying when you said you'd found--Gray." It was still hard to say it out loud. He'd had himself convinced when John had left that he'd only said that to bother him, but after what Tosh had told him, he almost believed it--and both desperately hoped it was wrong, and that it wasn't. Sometimes, he wished his life wasn't such a mess of contradictions.