Jack/Joey.
Joe chuckled at the mention of the turn in the air. This was nothing he needed an overcoat for yet, or a scarf. When wind whipped sleet and ice down your neck in a hunting blind, that was when he considered it to be cold as hell. "Good," he said, shrugging a bit to indicate that life was going on along the usual course. "You probably see Helen a bit more than I do. Frankie is his usual shithead self, but no trouble yet down in Florida. Getting a shipment of new parts from Chicago, for the car show. You know the clock business ticks on forever." Lips turning into a subtle smirk that might not have played as well in the dark if it was anyone else, Joe felt confident that Jackie was familiar enough with the old family joke. There was always a clock in need of repair somewhere within the organization; a means to help legitimize income in a similar but often less scrutinized way as the dance hall did. "What's new?"