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And there she went, tossing out one of the things he didn't want to field in any conversation with Chel as casually as she pleased. He knew it was an act; the dent in the locker proved it. But he disliked even more that she carried on like it was nothing anyway right in front of him, smiling and joking like it wasn't eating at her like he was very sure it was; Jack didn't believe for a minute she was happy for them and was insulted by the perceived lie. The least she could have done if that was the case, though, was to just avoid mentioning it all together. It wasn't like he wasn't very clearly aware of her status every damn time she touched him.

But like with Abbi, he kept his mouth shut. He was starting to wonder why.

A muscle flexing in his jaw, Jack finished the water bottle off and tossed it at the trash can, though it missed it by inches. He breathed a sigh. (Deep breaths, remember.) "You're not far off, really. Sometimes it's good to remind yourself you're alive," he said with quiet sobriety. "Where I lived, there was a cemetery a few streets down. I used to go and read the names on the graves, sometimes see who was visited and who wasn't. But mostly I liked sitting there because it felt...I dunno. Peaceful. And like you weren't really alone. It was kinda comforting, I guess, it's hard to explain without sounding like I'm a goth wannabe."

Jack leaned over to get his now cold coffee. "It was also beautiful in autumn and winter," he added mildly as he drank.

"Did you? Huh. Figured you would be too busy causing someone trouble to stop and smell the remembrance bouquets."

He eyed Chel over his mug and raised his brows. "What do you mean?" he asked. "What, the date? It mixed coffee and graveyards, why wouldn't I like it?"

Snorting, his face wrinkled with faint amusement. "You're starting to lose me. How is going on a date that was her idea just me trying to one-up her?" he asked and, prodding Chel with his foot, continued, "And why d'you keep insulting me, huh? Not everything I do is about competition. I think you're just having a hard time accepting I can enjoy myself."

Jack wiggled his toes in response before moving to poke her again. "Yeah, the whole stealing me away from my girlfriend part," he said. "I remember. Did you pull AK into this? I'm gonna call low blow if you did because she's got nothing to do with either of you, but she still tried acting like the authority on my life decisions."

For a moment he seemed to listen to her plea and retracted his foot. "Bullshit about me sabotaging my happiness," he replied with a shrug, pushing his glasses up and finishing the last of his coffee so he could set that aside too. Might as well be honest since that was supposed to be their policy. "Of course, she's also dead set against Hanna without even meeting her, just 'cause she's not you. Hence me asking if you'd gotten her recruited to the desperate attempt to keep my attention," he said airily.

And then he tried poking her one more time, starting to grin. He felt similar sentiments that Chel had felt with her juicebox.

He laughed at her counter measure in spite of himself and wiggled his foot a little just to be defiant. "Yeah, hey, I get it, Chel," Jack said after calming down. "I'm the very last person to be telling you not to mope about someone. But I agree, no ******** pity parties allowed in here except the ones I sanction."

Picking Barbara back up, Jack located his pick and started to strum a slower version of "Only the Young", since she had mentioned Journey, though it also required some interpretation on his part. He didn't quite remember the lyrics since the sheet music in his book hadn't added them for some reason, but he hummd what he recalled to supplement it.

And his foot wiggled some more to the beat beneath her.

"See what?" he asked, inwardly sighing as the alarm went off. He continued to strum, though not as loud. "And what don't you want me to do?" Naturally so he could remember to do it at some point to annoy her.