[ In the haze of fever, the image of Fenris reaching out towards him (or more importantly, to his face) wavers. For a moment, he doesn't see Fenris at all, but a woman with fiery red hair. Her fist is closed, coming to his face, and Jack seizes up for the impact, but reaches out to grab Fenris's wrist. His grip is uncomfortably tight, and his expression is briefly drawn in some kind of hard to place but definitely negative emotion. It's almost dangerous, but-- Just like that, the image fades away.
Fenris comes back into view, and Jack's hand wavers, but he lets go of Fenris's wrist with a frustrated sound. It's not at Fenris, but at this sickness, or even at himself. This isn't like him. He feels incredibly vulnerable, and he despises that, but the awkwardness of that moment gets him to not speak to it. He proceeds as if it hadn't happened, because whatever that was, he definitely doesn't want to acknowledge it. Even so, his response is distracted. ]
That— I mean, yeah, obviously. That's the deal with Company-owned cures. Company gets 'em first.
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Fenris comes back into view, and Jack's hand wavers, but he lets go of Fenris's wrist with a frustrated sound. It's not at Fenris, but at this sickness, or even at himself. This isn't like him. He feels incredibly vulnerable, and he despises that, but the awkwardness of that moment gets him to not speak to it. He proceeds as if it hadn't happened, because whatever that was, he definitely doesn't want to acknowledge it. Even so, his response is distracted. ]
That— I mean, yeah, obviously. That's the deal with Company-owned cures. Company gets 'em first.