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King of dicks. He snorted a laugh because that did sound pretty ******** gay. "No, you don't get it," Jack replied, now on chord progressions since his piece of s**t melody was too short to keep repeating. "I do have to understand. How the hell can anyone be comfortable like that?" Pause. "It's the tits for you isn't it. Glorious, ******** tits and those curves. I don't blame you, but it doesn't make it any less weird to me.

"As for my birthday, eh." He gave a small shrug. "Got some nice little things and a lot of whiskey, spent some time with Hanna. Nothing horrible happened and I'm slightly disappointed."

He hummed thoughtfully and was glad Chel didn't try to turn the tables on him; the subject was only approachable in the context of someone else's life, not his. "Finn got me that right there," he said, gesturing to the green mug with the words SHOE GODDESS by his bed. Remembering he had actually made coffee, he leaned back and picked it up, taking a few sips. Lukewarm, but that was his fault for getting swept up in the conversation.

"Ian'll deliver his at some point, when he's not busy with his fiancé. Crowell I suspect will give out more whiskey once he's better..." Letting Barbara sit in his lap, Jack fiddled with the gold chain around his neck. "AK delivered your present, by the by. S'cute."

"He knows I like shoes, yeah." It was funny. Several months ago he would have been angry and flustered about people knowing about his hobby, but now it just felt like one more eccentric fact to add to the pile. Hell, it was mundane and harmless in retrospect; he wasn't sure why he had caused a small fuss about it beyond the fear of being ridiculed by people he had started to accept as friends. (But really, wasn't he supposed to be above their opinions anyway?)

"Don't get angry at her," Jack said levelly as he drank some more coffee. "You could have saved her the trouble by just giving it to me yourself." Or not getting him anything at all, really, it wasn't like he had been Mr. Perfect. "I don't see why you needed the secrecy at all."

Well, Abbi had given her explanation, but that was hers.

He breathed and sighed through his nose. "You know, AK sassed me out upon delivery. Said we needed to talk." His tone was carefully, casually neutral. "You know you're free to say whatever, we both agreed on that. But I'm not going to make you do anything."

Truth be told, he just didn't want to brace for another tirade against his bad life decisions again, or any reminder thereof. Jack turned to his coffee for succor.

Beyond putting his cup back with it only half drained, the strum of the guitar was continuous. It was the replacement action to staring at the wall like he had the last time they had had meaningful topics come up, a social buffer as it were. So at least what Abbi had told him as far as being presented in case Chel got axed was true.

"'With everything'?" Jack repeated with some amusement, starting up the beginning of RHCP's "Under the Bridge" and letting the chords cycle through just that part. "That's a nice way of putting it. You're acting like friends can't give friends presents." He started to lean back into the pillows, though his long legs continued to dangle off the side of the bed. "Relax, Craft, I like your gift, so, thanks."

"I know." He passed Chel a frown from under his bangs, which now sought to take over his face now that most of the small ponytail that had confined them was loosening. "But I don't just call anyone my friend either, alright? You've got elevated status, above the other plebeians. I actually give a s**t what happens to you. Hell, I made a file of information about this weapon I interviewed to help you out."

But, hey, apparently those weren't worth anything to her now. It was a circle alright, a loop that he kept thinking he could stop every time they talked. Was this considered stringing someone along now, or just trying to hang out with a friend gone complicated? He felt a spark of irritation, because it seemed no matter how much he tried to simplify things, it always went back to the same conflict of interests between them. Jack issued another sigh to let it out.

"Mind telling me what I get exactly?" he asked, eyes closing. "Because every time I think we're on the same page, something happens to prove me wrong."

He cracked an eye open and gave her a wry look. "Predictable? You insult me." But he couldn't help but give a half-smile in return: friction was his natural inclination most days, towards others and towards himself. He was already comfortable with that fact, but it was a little nice to have it be accepted by someone else.

"It's not as good as it sounds," he told Chel, though really he was acting out of a laziness to avoid leaving his seat. "I just met with an arctic flora demon, asked them a few things. No big." Pause. "They had too many teeth."