[ of course he hadn’t faulted jack for it. He’s d’artagnan. It’s what he does. A small, half smile tugs the corner of his lips up some, endeared by his friend. Athos has always been right in calling him the best of us.

Jack lets out a slow exhale, looking down to his shoes as he leans against the wall next to him, hands in his coat pockets. ]

Well, I suffer from a terminal condition of Asshole, so. [ a quiet huff, attempting to be humoring, but it comes out mostly empty. ]

I speak too harshly, too often, and at the wrong times. You didn’t deserve that from me.

[ this is jack saying he’s sorry. ]