Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Sorry for what?" he retorted, feigning confusion. "Sorry I didn't get you an 8 gig or something? Super sorry about that. Just take what you've got, Craft," Jack added with the slightest of emphasis.

Faked confusion melted away as he eyed Chel. He couldn't remember the last time she had used words like d**k and a*****e beyond her jokes.

"What's there to apologize for?" Jack asked after a moment. "We got drunk and slept together. Yeah. You asked me not to be weird about it, so here I am acting normal. If this is about me rejecting you, then you really need to get past that."

Jack couldn't hide the hint of surprise that ghosted across his face, but it quickly hardened into a frown once more. "Hold on," he said, resisting being moved any further. She wanted to bring that up? Fine. "You're the one who got in my lap. You're the one who ******** kissed me, Craft."

(He would have said it, even though he knew it was at least partially his problem, and that was what irritated him. She had made it so easy to pretend it wasn't his concern until now.)

"And you're the one who's been pretending it's been okay," he continued, uncrossing his arms and stepping away. "Don't blame it on me. We were drunk, alright, but you started that shitstorm."

"Because I was <******** drunk," he argued, a muscle near his eye twitching as she poked him. "You let me. You ******** asked for it." Restraint, restraint. He wasn't supposed to be picking fights needlessly, but sometimes he swore...

Clicking his tongue derisively, Jack turned his back on her, shut his locker, and clipped the lock back on. "I'm not doing this in public space. Think whatever you want, Craft, I don't care." Control the anger, shut it down, move on.

He made to walk past her without a second look.

It was written all over his face this time: in the split second Chel's fist was raised, his eyes widened and his arms raised defensively, instinctively, over his face and stomach. For one very, very small instant, Jack showed something close to fear. He flinched when her punch dented the locker instead because he was sure it should have gone to him. Every other person had treated him like a punching bag to vent, why not add the person he had wronged the most to the list?

Warily he lowered his arms, his fingers having slightly curled in preparation to fight, ready to make a fist or summon his weapon. That was what the Sahara had taught him: Never let your guard down. Never give in. But Owain had to slip one thought in, the first put to words since he had returned to his head.

Is she not suffering the same way you did? That you still do in some small part?

He wished he could ignore the parallels, but there they were.

Do you not think enough of her to be given an explanation? It would show more mercy than walking away and allowing her to stew as she has been for days—more mercy than you were given.

He alternated between clenching his jaw and relaxing it, considering Chel as she stepped to the side. Eventually he swallowed and pocketed his hands, his gaze lowering.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said quietly. "But that night was a mistake. I wasn't supposed to be slipping like that, with s**t like getting drunk off my a**. I knew I should've just eaten and played and left, but then I didn't. I don't just get smashed and have sex, but then I did anyway." He'd said that before but felt it bore repeating. "I'm angry at you, yeah, but I'm a lot angrier at myself. My s**t's been slipping ever since the Sahara, but I shouldn't have pulled you into that. So...Sorry."

He shifted weight on his feet idly, clearly apprehensive about sharing.

"And...sorry for all the rest that's happened since," he said to her feet. "I only stuck you in observation because I thought it would help. I thought maybe we'd find a solution to whatever was going on with you."

He still looked a little uneasy at first. It was hard to get a good read on her in general when she kept smiling and joking. Maybe he'd just made her feel worse. (When did that start to matter?) Maybe she'd wise up and leave. Only when Chel matched his quiet volume did he started to remotely relax.

"Yeah, well...The more I stick around you, the less sure I feel about who I am, so..." He shrugged like it was nothing to say, but the uncomfortable pressure in his chest was coming back. "I mean, I'm not really a..." He made a soft frustrated noise. "Look, you can talk to me about stupid s**t too, okay? You're already knee deep in screwed territory, so you might as well."

He pocketed his hands again once they were free. Too much touching was getting to him.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled with more familiar annoyance, shoulders up in resistance against her arm, more for show than because he didn't want it. "But I'm not carrying you over before you ask; no piggybacks from me."

"I will puncture my ears before you talk to me about any man's a*****e."

He started to relax more now, a hint of a smile on his face as they walked. It quickly turned to its usual slant as he rolled his eyes. "Diamonds? For you? More like a thorny vine glued into a circle," Jack replied. "Since I know about your affair with Owain and all. You're a horrible fiancée."

Jack feigned gagging while his partner cooed back. "I mean I know you like Halloween more than you should, but that's going too far," he said. "For ******** shame, Craft. If you even remember what that is." He almost made a hardwood double entendre but held back.

"Jokes aside for a moment, how long do you have to wear that anyway?" he asked with a glance at her bracelet.