Re: quicklog: dylan & jack & max
[To her credit, Jack didn't even notice. The growing warmth in the room and the her presence did a lot to disarm him, even with the shirt on. It felt safe, if just for the moment. It helped that her assumptions were all right - even with a dead wife perched on the counter, even with the threat of nightmare mannequins with the faces of dead women, he would never hurt her. He trusted Max implicitly, even when he shouldn't trust anything.
He left the gun with his clothes and pulled his jeans off. He could feel the foulness of that place almost crawling on his skin now that his clothes were off, and he got under the spray without much more protest.
But where was she going? He caught her wrist with his hand, dripping water onto the tile.] You're coming. [To this other building, of course. The abandoned one, with provisions. He didn't trust Dylan as much, but he knew he cared about Max's safety - and if he cared what happened to her, he'd do right by her.
Where ever she was walking off to, he didn't want her to go. That low thrum of fear and reflexive aggression remained, sustained for too long to go away with a snap of the fingers. More than just that, though - she was in next to nothing, now, and she really should stay right here.]