Jack Vincent

Once they're in the apartment, Jack drops his bag. He finds himself skittish, suddenly, which is ridiculous, but they've admitted to a lot, this morning, and it's taking a whole to settle. He turns to face Poison, starting to tug his shirt over his head.

"I need to shower."

For the last couple of weeks, he's been spending a lot of time with Poison, getting used to having him around, in his space. He's been nursing something, a warm and liquid knot behind his ribs. He's not examined it too closely. He definitely hasn't said anything to Poison about it. Sometimes, he finds himself flustered, but he pushes it down, ignores it and, eventually, it passes.

Sort of.

They'd arranged to go out and test drive the I.D that Kavinsky had made for him. Poison wanted to go dancing and Jack can get into clubs now, so...why not, right?

So he's standing on a corner, just down from the club, waiting for Poison to show. He hadn't, entirely, been sure what to wear for something like this, so he's there in black t-shirt and jeans, one of his more fitted leather jackets, boots. He's got product in his hair. Double row of eyelashes give the effect of eyeliner.

It's weird, maybe, but...he's actually kind of nervous.