Sinclair winces internally. Of all the conclusions Jack could have drawn, that was one of less preferable. Judging by Jack's face, it might have actually been the least.

"Not a chance, kid," he says, taking extra care to keep his tone casual. "I offered a service and Ryan utilized it, that's all." But Jack is still planted in place, the obscene yells of the incarcerated somehow intensifying the silence between them. "Listen," he tries again, a little more seriously, "Ryan had his fair share of enemies, you know that son, and he was trying to keep a handle on his city by sending his problems to me.And maybe those people belonged here, maybe they didn't, but I did not work for Andrew Ryan." And that's the absolute truth. If Jack doesn't believe that, this conversation is going nowhere at light speed.