[ He's not that young. He's thirty. But all right, compared to Jack that was practically a teen. He follows Jack, not dazed so much as shocked and yes, quite frankly, a little upset.
It wasn't that he couldn't live his life without sex. He could. He had been going without it for quite a bit back home. A captain does not fraternize with his crew - it ran to close to a potential abuse of power, and he didn't want to even begin to toe that line. Ever. Only about three or four people would he trust that he was not doing so, but those people were either taken or that simply was not what their relationship was about as it stood.
But even though he could live without it, it didn't make him celibate, or mean that sex didn't play a role in his life. An important one, perhaps. It was a real, tangible connection for him to the world of the living, a reminder of his own humanity and that brief, beautiful flare of being connected with someone, of not feeling quite so alone and alien. He liked to hear heart beats thundering and taste sweat and feel his skin bruising, take all those things and sear them into his being to remind himself that death had not been so very permanent.
He manages to give Jack a smile of his own back, but it is dimmed as he processes the information, wondering how to order his life to achieve that sensation, that necessary part of his own therapy even three years removed from the event. Some habits you just didn't grow out of after an event like that, especially with no one to really talk to and understand it. ]
That's insane. This is just some digital prison, isn't it? Why would they care if we go around having one night stands or if we're committed? It makes no sense. Bad enough they steal us from our worlds, now they're putting rules on our love lives?
[ He huffs, irritated, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the blue band on Jack's wrist as if it were personally responsible for this development. ]
Let me guess - black band means no touching anyone?