[ Jack shoos Garrett ahead of him as he walks in, and indeed, this is familiar enough that he plops himself down at her tiny, crappy kitchen table with all the familiarity of an old friend. In truth, Hawke is one of the few people that he's rather genuinely relaxed around, though never completely. Still. It's kind of nice to hang out with her, since he's at least not at all worried about Hawke stabbing him in the back one day. Like, if she did, it wouldn't be on purpose, and it would definitely be stupid, he figures. So, you know. Not too bad, overall.
Yet even so, talking with Hawke is still always difficult for exactly the reason. The problem is, she's very good at getting under this skin. Or in this case, his mask. ]
What- What, no, the mask isn't— It's not bad!
[ It's probably bad, considering how defensive he gets, but he crosses his arms tightly across his chest and his groans. Jack leans back in the chair to look up at the ceiling, which is probably so he doesn't get caught staring at her (barely clothed) ass. ]
Screw you, my mask makes me, uh, mysterious. And intimidating. And even more handsome.
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Yet even so, talking with Hawke is still always difficult for exactly the reason. The problem is, she's very good at getting under this skin. Or in this case, his mask. ]
What- What, no, the mask isn't— It's not bad!
[ It's probably bad, considering how defensive he gets, but he crosses his arms tightly across his chest and his groans. Jack leans back in the chair to look up at the ceiling, which is probably so he doesn't get caught staring at her (barely clothed) ass. ]
Screw you, my mask makes me, uh, mysterious. And intimidating. And even more handsome.