"I'm pregnant by god knows what, stuck in 1906, on earth, and I can't die. A century later, I'm still sitting on the rift. I think it's a fairly safe bet that okay isn't the word you're looking for." He sounded way, way more tired than angry. There was even a faint snort of self-depreciating humor.
His emotions were pretty obviously all over the place, but then so was his biology, and that included his brain chemistry. He didn't really have the energy to maintain any of it, though, and he was still Jack.
"You sound pretty okay with it now."
There was a reason for that remark. If Jack wasn't freaked the hell out by it, or him, he was going to actually be able to think about letting go of at least some of his paranoia.