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[An admittance of love is a heavy thing. Ardyn pauses in turn.]

You loved her, and she seemed to share your inclinations for murder. A match made in heaven. [An observation, really, nothing snide in his remark.] A spouse maybe?

Maybe - I know we were some kinda thing, because I remember thinking about how hard we were gonna fuck when we were done blowing people's brains outta their noses. Like, right there. On the ground. With all the dead people.

[ Yyyyyyes this is sounding progressively crazier and crazier. ]

I think I did. I loved her. [ He chews his lip again. ] And whoever the hell I was, I didn't give two shits about anybody else. We were the only people on Earth that mattered.

[Well, that's a thing.]

As... romantic as that sounds, it also reeks of something unhealthy. Not your happiness, per se, but the sociopathy and narcissism. Love certainly isn't exclusive to any of these things.

[Up comes a hand to rub at the stubble on his chin.]

This life of yours continues to become more and more interesting, but even you have to admit it's a little disconcerting in more than one way.

A little? Jeez, I feel like frickin' Leatherface in another life. It's more than a little.

[ Feels like being exposed to admit that, to acknowledge that there's something wrong with who he might have been at some point, and Jack scratches at his neck, glancing at anything else. Namely, one of his cats. It's giving them dead eyes from Jack's ridiculous cat tree castle in the corner. ]

I get where he was coming from. They were bad people. I mean, a guy rushing you with a really pointy stick yelling about meat popsicles ain't exactly someone to bring home to mom. And the ones on the train... they were even worse. I don't know why, but they were. I didn't even just want them dead - I thought they were disgusting. Less than human. Kinda like when you see a really gross bug and you just want it dead for being so damn ugly.

I just... I dunno. If you gave me a gun and put me in that same situation, I wouldn't be able to do it. I just don't know how long that's going to last.

[Jack may be looking at the extravagant cat tree and the feline inside of it, but Ardyn is watching his friend's face very closely. He's right, it's more than a little -- but it isn't very tactful of Ardyn to say well, you sure did sound batshit crazy, Jack. Tact might not always be a priority of his, but in this instance, he's not here to make the man doubt himself even more.

For once, Ardyn sounds completely serious.]

Are they affecting you that much? Do you actually feel any different than before all of this Retrospec nonsense?

Yeah. [ Jack raps his fingertips on the counter, expression... not pained, exactly, but colored with the faintest tinge of helplessness. Tight in the mouth, eyes low. ] The other day, I tried to choke out Tony Carter because he threatened to call my grandma. I didn't even think about it. I just did it. I wanted him to be afraid of me. I'm not like that, you know I'm not like that.

I'm not like that. But sometimes it feels like I'm not just me anymore.

[ There's a breaking point, and Jack slams his hand onto the counter and turns, heading back to his liquor cabinet. ]

It's bullshit. This is all bullshit.

[Jack's outburst is nearly enough to startle him, but the only thing that betrays this is the way a hand curls into a fist, nails pressing into skin. He stops leaning against the counter, straightening to his full height, watching the back of Jack's head as he moves to the cabinet.

He's frowning now. He can't pretend that this isn't as alarming as it is, not anymore. It was obviously enough bother Jack, more than he was initially letting on. It's worrisome, not only for his sake, but for the sake of everyone else experiencing these unwanted memories.

But what does one say in this situation? What does one do? There it is again, that feeling of uselessness that he hates so much, blossoming in his chest. He wants to help, but he has no power to. Retrospec pulls their strings from afar, tugging and twisting at their individuality. At their sense of self.

So, what then? He'll offer moral support? How pathetically laughable.]

...No, you're not like that. I do know you. You're not cruel for the sake of being cruel.

[A beat.] Is there anything I can do for you? [In the end, it's all he can offer.]

...Yeah, I'm not.

[ He sounds genuinely relieved to hear it, kneeled in front of the cabinet, and seems to lose interest in it entirely. He'd rather press his forehead to the cool wood instead, with a loud, ungentle thud. ]

Yeah. [ And he's moving again, quicker, turning to push himself to his feet and stroll back. There's a mild energy to his movements that wasn't there before, voice louder like he's trying to convince either Ardyn or himself that everything is fine. ] Let's go somewhere. Let's do something. Doesn't have to be drinking. Hell, we can go scarf shopping for all I care, let's just do something.

[If even a modicum of relief is all he can offer with his words, then he'll latch onto it -- in fact, Ardyn extends his hands outward, a grandiose gesture as Jack moves closer to him, as if to say, "Well, of course."]

Scarf shopping? [It may be a joke and it sounds inane. And yet, because of that, it's perfect for this situation. Something ridiculous to help get Jack's mind off of it. His expression changes to match, turning into something almost tongue-in-cheek.]

Now there's a suggestion. I'm sure I could find at least five patterns that would suit you. And you'd be obligated to purchase at least one of them.

[Yes, he will literally take you scarf shopping, Jack.]

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