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All things considered, he was making some progress—towards what was still up in the air as he had only ever created one vial of antivirus after a multitude of failures, and his attempts thus far felt like a minor improvement only. But work gave Jack something to focus on, and progress was like a tier one drug; he often spent his afternoons in the lab, with occasional breaks for food and the bathroom. This time, however, he decided to stay the night, having thought he was on the right track up until he had accidentally fallen asleep over his notes.

Naturally this was the day when Chel decided to drop by.

Still somewhat drowsy, she found him with his hair less tamed than usual in its messy ponytail, hovering like a vulture over the good coffee machine as it poured him his....was this the first one? He didn't remember. "Mrrrmrgmg," was the greeting as he took his mug back and began to blow on it. Around the desk was a nest of research papers and reports, several pens and a highlighter lolling over them. The actual resources for making the antivirus were in the adjacent room.

When he actually looked at Chel, he blinked, pushed his glasses up, and squinted at her hair (or rather, the distinctly asymmetrical appearance). "Got mauled?"

More grumpy cat noises were made, though his attention went back to his coffee as it was more important than what Chel was doing at the moment. Owain was way too cheerful at the mention of the ents of course, and his face wrinkled in annoyance.

"Because you collect scars like people collect ball-jointed dolls," Jack grumbled as he blew on his drink some more. "And because it sounds just like you."

"Wow, and I thought I was a pessimist." Carefully he tilted the mug to his lips, testing the temperature before drinking. Jack sighed a little in satisfaction at the taste. "Nope. There was a wave of paranoia on Twitter a while back, but otherwise nothing. I'm guessing your mission went alright?"

Until the coffee made its way through his system there was a small delay in his reactions, and once he understood Jack turned his head and made a face . "s**t, seriously? Where were those back in China?" he complained. Unsafe bridges and narrow cliff sides be damned.

At the mention of her weapon, he raised his brows before going back to his coffee. Chel could have crawled over him and he wouldn't have cared until that mug was drained. "About?"

"Sounds important then." He took his time finishing his drink. "I'm honored." It was hard to discern as sarcasm was his default, but he honestly was looking forward to the discussion.

When the mug was empty, he pushed his chair back and stretched, blinking hard before setting the mug aside. Jack began to gather his pages back into their folders, which didn't take long—it looked chaotic spread as they were, but he kept groups together. After stacking the folders up and away, he turned to Chel expectantly and grabbed his mug as he passed the now clean table. Jack looked a little more alert now at least.

"He wants to know if you want company while I'm away," he said, "or if you're joining in on the conversation."

Considering Chel's nature, the secrecy earned her a curious glance. What would make the silent weapon speak, and why would she be evasive about it?

If my ear fell off, it would simply grow back, Owain replied blithely. I could listen without it regardless as it is mostly cosmetic in this form. Were I truly dependent on it, however, what minutes I spend speaking to you would still be something I cherish more than the hours I would wait for it to return anyway. But another time then, my lady.

Jack passed on the sentiment to her in a deadpan before making immature kissy faces that made the giant chortle.

"Not a fan, no." The lack of symmetry bothered him innately. "I like classic long hair better, remember?" Jack said as he shrugged a little. "But I guess it was bound to happen eventually after the piercing. You are a stupid punk s**t and all. What's next, tattoos or lip pierce?"