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Trust. He made a noncommittal sound. "Because I like it better," Jack answered simply. Storytelling was not marked on the list of exceptions to his mood. It was already strange enough telling her about the clones, even if it was only to give the bare minimum.

"I will say that clones are risky business, so if I come back less than healthy, well, there you go," he said as he pushed himself off the bed. Owain's totem continued to go unnoticed. He went for the door. "Think of code words. I'm gonna go take a piss."

Shortly after she put it on, the armlet disappeared. Not long after that, Jack returned, looking like he had tossed cold water over his face: slightly less pissed, slightly more alert beyond the haze of pain.

"Any genius fairies come to visit?" he asked as he took the totem off again and tossed it on the bed. Jack went for his fridge and pulled out another water bottle, then went in search of his aspirin because ******** this headache.

"Any ideas?" he repeated as he stood up. Jack showed her the aspirin bottle and water bottle and gave them a small shake in a second, silent question. "Or did you just sit there and listen to music this whole time?"

He made a small noise and considered it as he downed several pills. Seemed good enough, assuming the clones didn't have memories that updated themselves along with his. He wouldn't put it past his luck if they did; god only knew what else they were capable of besides being nigh impossible to kill without destroying the source.

"Grixlie, then," Jack agreed, casting a look at the coffee maker as he debated whether to write off his sleep schedule for yet another day or force himself to go to sleep after some more work. "Secondary question if you need more proof: Whose scale do I have in my room? Answer: Chinabreath."

Eventually the lure of coffee overtook him, and he grabbed his mug off the desk for a refill. "Speaking of...Anything on your end as far as Merlin goes?"

"The only way I'd ever let myself go out." After the machine warmed up, he placed the mug in and fished for a cartridge. "Whining means what exactly?"

With a roll of his eyes, he picked the pillow up and tossed it back. "If there's something going on, tell me," Jack insisted. "Keeping it to yourself won't help anyone."

He stilled at the words I've asked a few times and gave Chel a pointed, sidelong look as his mug was filled. Naturally a lack of anything else happening was both a mercy and an ominous sign, but the fact that she willingly reached out to Merlin disturbed him. Had she done so back when she thought Chris was dead? Did she think somehow she could wring a favor out of him?

Jack's extended pause answered for him. This was very worrisome.

With his coffee made, he turned the machine off and began to cool off his drink with a few breaths. "For someone who says she can take care of herself, you do a lot of concerning things that say just the opposite," he said.

"If it can affect me, it concerns me. Grixlie has seen me, for one," Jack pointed out. "I might be on a watchlist, if not recognized by it, Merlin, or whatever else might be involved in this operation. Besides." He paused to try the drink. Too hot still. "I've witnessed what happens when you get taken over. It'd be purely ignorant if I tried to pretend nothing else will come of it."

More blown air over his drink. More testing. Only when he was able to drink without burning his tongue did he ask, "Desperate for what?"