Man, if you think that's bad you should see him with the shirt off.

Jack -- you may be shocked to hear this, but he's not really thought about how all these scars and stuff look. It's maybe occurred to him once or twice, a 'wow these things are piling up' here and an 'oh god my throat that was my favourite throat' there, but coming out of the bathroom it wasn't at the forefront of his mind.

So he notices the slip but doesn't really get it. And then Sinclair carries on, and Jack's faintly relieved, although it seems he's done something wrong again.

It's cold out here in the kitchen. At least it is compared to the warm fog misting the window in the bathroom. So he remembers what Sinclair said about a robe, and ducks back in there while the cutlery comes out, emerging for a second time in the crimsonest and fluffiest robe Sinclair owns.

Man, it's so cosy he could go to sleep in it.

He sits down at the table, bits of chicken already magically reaching his mouth via his fingers before he's even seated and holding his fork. Mmmm hot. Mmmmmmeat.

"This is really good," he says with his mouth full.