He would have been offended, he really would have. Except, well, he was Jack. That someone else (most people were counted in this number) thought he ate a lot, it really did not matter all that much to him. Burning calories being as active as he was meant that he had to consume as much calories. Still, he was nowhere near the Michael Phelps diet. With or without the THC incentive involved.
With a snort at his brother-in-law's words, Jack nodded. "/They do. Sometimes. Some people are just strange and for some reason don't like spicy food. Which I don't really get./" He adored Mexican and New Mexican food, with its rich spices and sometimes complicated flavors. Far more than he liked most European inspired dishes, especially anything English. Apparently England gave up spices when they lost the East India Trading Company all those years ago.
The cute waitress delivered his tea, and Jack turned his smile on her again. Darn it, he was in a great mood, even for him. Which was saying something. "I'm all about the sugar, you might even need to refill it the moment I leave. I might decimate your supply in a single glass," sweet tea was always good. Enough to make him bounce off the walls (more than usual), but always good. "Thanks Sasha."