It's okay, it's just an undershirt. Nothing a good run-in with a mob of splicers won't entirely cover up with blood stains.
Sinclair nods and leaves Jack in the living room, limping back through his bedroom to the bathroom and turns on the faucet to wet a wash cloth. It's a white one, and he's sure whatever damage Jack did to his undershirt, the wash cloth is going to receive at least three times that. But it's all he has, and honestly who needs a complete set of towels anyway? People who don't harbor emotional man children, that's who.
He wrings the wash cloth out and returns, handing it over to Jack and letting himself drop down onto the sofa.
"What do you want to do once we get out of here?" he asks. You know. Maybe it'll give Jack something else to focus on, or even better, something to look forward to.
no subject
Sinclair nods and leaves Jack in the living room, limping back through his bedroom to the bathroom and turns on the faucet to wet a wash cloth. It's a white one, and he's sure whatever damage Jack did to his undershirt, the wash cloth is going to receive at least three times that. But it's all he has, and honestly who needs a complete set of towels anyway? People who don't harbor emotional man children, that's who.
He wrings the wash cloth out and returns, handing it over to Jack and letting himself drop down onto the sofa.
"What do you want to do once we get out of here?" he asks. You know. Maybe it'll give Jack something else to focus on, or even better, something to look forward to.