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Jack just scoffed and forced himself to stand even taller as they walked. He could "own his hangover" in the privacy of his room. Bad enough he was doing the walk of shame while being escorted by the object of his shame.

(( Don't call her that, )) Owain scolded him quietly. He has been reeling with his hunter through the migraine and nausea, but he could only take so much in silence.

"Thinking about food makes me wanna puke right now," Jack grumbled as they reached his dorm. "Nachos are safe and salty. Whatever. Cook what you want."

He unlocked the door and resisted the urge to face plant on his bed immediately. It was almost exactly the same as it was when Chel had been there last, save for the half unpacked bag, several new books on the bookshelf, and a less empty-looking desk.

He never really needed to yell at her, he thought. She almost always did whatever he asked anyway. "Indoor voices, remember?" Jack said, affecting one.

He thought a lot about what he could say to continue being not weird, but it was difficult now that Owain had stirred and was sticking his nose where it didn't belong, bringing up the hard questions and pushing the idea that maybe he ought to apologize, or at least thank her for all she'd done, or to not just let her leave like that, not if he had been happy with it even for just a little while, not if it meant going back to something neither of them thought would be meaningful, not if it was being done in the name of Jack ******** Hawthorn and his inane need to keep others a certain distance away.

But he did let Chel go, waiting a few steps before moving to the door. "Don't trip on your way back, Bella," he said with his usual sarcasm, as if expecting her to make more of a spectacle of herself. "And don't think the coffee machine means you can slack off, got it?"

And then he closed the door.