Welcome to Gaia! ::

He grabbed several forks and napkins first before joining Chel on the couch. "Never heard of it," Jack replied as he offered them, though it was clear he didn't care if she put it on as long as something was on in the background. More than likely it would just end up replacing their music for background noises while having sex anyway.

He suggested a movie not to actually sit down and watch it but to give himself a outlet to focus on other than something immediate. Today had been...interesting to say the least. Jack had gotten so caught up in what Chel had brought up that he had temporarily forgotten his own excitement about the clone. But to be honest, it had been worn out for now--or at least, his body could only handle so much emotion in one go at the moment. His original aspirations to do something about the clone that day were only just that in the end.

And it had been a while since they had a movie sit down. Though it wasn't Lord of the Rings.

"It can wait," he said. "The question is, what about you? Because I know you've skipped duties to do s**t before."

"And why don't I believe you?" Jack said with a matching dubious look at the explanation. Not to say he didn't consistently enjoy being considered top priority, though--even in the quirk of his brows and judging look, there was a sense that he was pleased about being chosen. But Chel was a lot more likely to screw around with work hours than bother with her workout schedule, which honestly seemed to be any hour she wasn't running around for someone else.

But hey, her choice was to stick with him, and he was going to go with it.

Leaning over, Jack grabbed the remote and skipped through what static-filled, jumpy commercials managed to be preserved in the conversion, and straight into the movie. He still had a tired air about him for whatever reason, now that he was still and only about to engage with food, but it was also close to something content as well. Acceptance, maybe, at least for this moment.

He blinked at the unfortunately familiar phrase and then complied, rolling his sleeves up before applying the lotion. Normal. That was why he supposed this felt strange to him, it felt so normal. Jack was still waiting for the upset, a nudge, a sudden Merlin possession, a new text from one of their phones about a mission or some new disaster. It was the Ides of March after all, something bad was bound to happen.

Unless them agreeing had taken up that slot.

He glanced at the scar-riddled woman at his side, pushed his glasses up, and set the aloe vera aside to pick up his fork. "Thanks," he said more quietly than he meant as the voiceover intro began.

There was appreciation for the subconscious layers—psychological mechanics in movies like that were fun to watch even without the bonus of being in a mental institute—and the obvious and not so obvious symbolism that ran rampant throughout the movie. They appealed to him as much as the fight choreography and accompanying music. After all, Nazis were overdone, but what about robot Nazis?

He was barely aware of the movement beyond the television until he felt Chel's head knock against him. She'd been so quiet, he almost forgotten she was there. Running commentary wasn't his norm—he'd only started it in their Lord of the Rings runs because it was fun to, and because that too had been some buffer against letting things settle—but Jack had expected her to excitedly point things out, or whisper I would so ******** that, or fidget in some way. It was a lot like how Chel hadn't breathed a word until he had finished changing earlier; that was what tipped him off that this movie meant something to her. So he refrained from trying to break the peace for once aside from the sounds of him forking mac and cheese into his mouth.

Unlike before, his hand didn't wander.

The question wasn't easy to answer. He rubbed his cheek of any flecks of food and set his gaze to the film to avoid overthinking it like he was prone to, though the questions still ran at the back of his mind. (What exactly made him happy these days? Did single fleeting seconds count or did it have to be an overwhelming feeling? When was the last time he felt genuine happiness either way, not these temporary smirks and satisfactions of the unsettled? He was elated when he had the clone in custody and intrigued by the idea of what working with it could mean, but was that happiness or was that victory and finding a sense of purpose?)

"Content," Jack replied as he reached for his water bottle, because that much was true.

"Then I guess I'm glad you're happy," said the emo king without looking away from the movie.

---

Somewhere towards the climax, Jack had decided to lay against the corner of the armrest and cushion, legs sprawled on the ground at an odd angle; he was used to not feeling comfortable. Chel was partially on top of him, but he was also used to that too.

"Which part?" he asked in response to the bullshit comment, turning his head and propping it up on his arm.

The petulant response almost made him smile for some reason.

Jack stretched his legs out over the couch now that he could and curled his toes. "Almost. Hanging out," he corrected her. "A date is where you listen to your boyfriend, get dressed up, and go somewhere nice and away from this piece of s**t island."