"Someone's got an an-ger prob-lem!" Jack was laughing now, but even to the casual observer there was no mockery in his laugh. He was genuinely amused, delighted even, by the fight the other boy was putting up. "Maybe you're bottling it all up, keeping it all inside til it...y'know, explodes in a violent rage with a boy innocently playing a team game. That's not healthy, dude. Maybe I should help you work through it."
Perhaps it was the Norse in him, the appreciation for the spirit of battle that wanted to see a good front being put up by Lysander, but the truth of the matter that -in this kind of rare mood- Jack liked to play with his food. He was close now, and taking plenty of hits from the blond boy, but he only threw him off his stride momentarily. He didn't respond hard, a few goading slaps here and there: the only thing Jack was aiming to injure was Lysander's pride.
He was on the floor now too, charming (if one could be charming in a situation like they found themselves in) and breathing easily in comparison. He was still smiling, a pointed smile that had purpose behind it. Jack was working to pin Lysander down, his voice now soft but still easy to hear in the still night air.
"So come on...main me, then. Feed me. To the dogs." There was that laugh again.