Re: Quicklog: Jack & Newt at the B&B
[Jack didn't make it a practice to study his own complexity. God knew there was material enough to keep a psychoanalyst in occupation for days. Newt had habitually made Jack think more of his mother than his father, which was probably for the best as despite the way she stood his teeth on edge, Jack had liked the woman more than he detested the man. Newt had not her jagged fragility, thank Christ. He was stable, so much as any of the lot of them were stable.
Fifteen thousand was not much of anything when you factored in heartbreak somewhere a long time ago. Jack watched the tension bleed through Newt's shoulders, his lap too full of cat to take it out in motion. Whether Newt knew the difference between fifteen and a hundred and fifty thousand, Jack didn't know. He didn't know a lot about the man.]
Where have you been living? [He looked around his own living quarters, and he held out a hand for the cup, impatient.] It's twee. It'll do, I suppose.