Re: [Bar: Jack & Patrick]
[Jack didn't have much in the way of defence on day-drinking. How Newt felt or didn't feel about his own consumption of alcohol seemed rather beside the point when he was or wasn't in the mood to consume it. He knocked back the whiskey in a brisk consumption that was neat, efficient and extremely well practiced and he put down his own glass and ordered a second, by virtue of a glance at the bartender.
As it happened, the remark might have been made for half a dozen occupants of the bar-stool. Mothering, or at least what Jack could make out of it in memory, didn't much go in for comments or otherwise on the advisedness of drinking. He glanced at Patrick, having made the necessary eye-contact with the bartender, and it was either grimace or smile. He did the latter. Jack didn't think he looked much like Newt at all. There was a directness to it that Jack noticed more than he noticed the similarities of the shape of the mouth or the various ways two men could codify half a dozen emotions through the peculiarities of fractional expressions known largely to a country who traded in them.]
Right-o. Just a comment, I'm not going to suggest they toss you out and someone puts you to bed. I've sat in bars in worse states. [He had. And god, Patrick was young. He hadn't known it at all, largely because Patrick was seen through various prisms belonging to other people. He looked very young, and extremely hungover, and Jack nearly slid from his stool and evacuated on basic principle.]
Somewhat of an inevitability. [But he was smiling as he said it. Jack hadn't begun to put together the evening and morning together with the rather woebegone creature sat next to him well enough to find a way through it to some sort of protectiveness or something like it. Patrick rather looked wrung out as it was.]