Briar/Jack/Charlotte
Jack snorted into his own coca-cola, this one cherry vanilla, and shook his head after the swallowed mouthful of buzzing carbonation. "Shit, they didn't tell you — ? Tonight, you're actually both." He grinned, the look always lopsided, on features that had once spent so much time hard-pressed and scowling.
Like Briar, Jack was here on an official capacity. His job, however, was to assist Briar in a time more trying than tedious. He knew what it was like, being the sober man out at a party where the only focus seemed to be the drink, and he'd already considered clearing his evening for her at the simple mention of the shindig. She'd asked, though, and if he was being honest, he'd felt better about that. He'd rather be along for the ride than have to wait around stressing at the result.
They'd been working hard, and their meetings did help. But there were moments when something like concern flicked through Briar's mind, crossing between them in a stirring sensation that he'd come to understand years ago as one more special gift from The Shine. Every so often, a wordless gesture would find her, a hand on her shoulder, her elbow, until he could help usher it past, and the two were left alone again with their sodas and their moment.
He'd help others, too. If he was needed medically. Years of his own experience, and Dan's, meant he could apply a band-aid like it was nobody's business. But he and Briar had already exchanged their concerns at the possibility. Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Besides, The Shining didn't strike him like he was, whatever, Spider-Man. If shit was going to go down, all he had to do was be there for when it did.
"You want anything?" He asked, glancing over to her with a crease of his brow. The grin happened again — it had a tendency to, when she was near. "Can't have you out here workin' two jobs and goin' hungry now."