For the first time that night, Adam finally saw Jack. He saw how the other man's body language changed entirely in response to Adam's own question, filed it away, and promptly forgot about it. He was too drunk to tactfully pursue that line of questioning anyway, and he didn't want to alienate someone who might be a new drinking buddy. Or just someone to talk to.
"I think," Adam said slowly, "that I could tell her something." He chewed his lower lip. Part of the problem still remained that he didn't know exactly what he felt for Daryl. Did she mean a lot to him, of course. But was it because he loved her? Wanted to control and own her? Wanted to end her career in a fiery, burning mess? He wasn't sure. That lack of certainty was disturbing. So he would have to figure out a sneaky way to go about all this, something underhanded and devious that would get Daryl to reveal more of her own feelings before he had to reveal too many of his. If she even had feelings.
With a stupid grin, Adam clapped Jack on the shoulder. "You're a good man," he said jovially, his smile drunk, stupid, and large. "You ever need any help, anything at all, you let me know."