Everything was looking rather boring to Jack until some stranger showed up and pointed a sword at him. A sword. Who played with swords anymore other than Rennies, nerds (which could have been lumped together) and children? This man was not a child, and judging by the sword, the clothes and the strange smell emanating off of him, Jack had to assume the man was a nerd.
The kind that lived in basements of their parents homes and played on computers or... Dragons and Dungeons of Doom or something like that. This had to be one of them. Just like those strange butterfly bee men that had taken Jack temporarily captive.
"Listen, Stinky," Jack batted the dull panel of the sword aside with his palm, not sure if this was the kind of man who would actually sharpen a play sword or not. "First things first, you'll get no where fast pointing that toy at people. Secondly, a shower goes a long way, alright? But I commend you for not bathing in Axe as so many of your kind seem to do in lieu of decent hygiene." Straights, that's who did that. The ones that were hygiene challenged. Mostly the types that were under 18 or overly sweaty and thought that marinating oneself in equally smelly parfumes would attract the ladies.
He sighed and looked down at his watch. Please let this not have been what his gut was telling him to wait for. "Thirdly, you are here... in The City," the City being delivered with air quotes in front of him. "Fourthly, I am not 'You.' I am Jack McFarland." Jack saved his usual speal about the actor, singer, dancer... millionaire (thank you Beverly Leslie); thinking it would be lost completely on this man.