[ His first thought, of course, is "not if you don't make me." Jack has no illusions here for himself that that gun could absolutely be pointed at Rhys, and he wouldn't feel much guilt at all to pull the trigger. Really, it's a lot for him to even be talking to this guy. He'd broken his nose, tried to strangle him, and just generally been an asshole, so, yeah. If he tried to kill him again? Jack wouldn't just be asking to talk. He thought that was fair enough. Rhys could just be... insane, but at the same time, if this was really all just lies, that would be far easier to deal with. It would be baseless. It's the fact that Jack does find some basis in Rhys's words that frightens him.
He'd probably been half hoping for Rhys to take back what he'd said at least somewhat and offer... Something. Forgiveness doesn't seem to be the right word, because there's nothing really to forgive here, or not in any way that makes sense in this odd situation. Jack had been wanting some reassurance that no, he could be different, that things would be different for him, but Rhys doesn't offer it. In fact, he just asserts it.
Rhys is so certain of the man Jack will become, and Jack doesn't even have that certainty for himself just yet.
It's chilling in a way that's difficult to hide. He's listening as Rhys takes that coffee from his hands, and Jack gets started with making his own, but he's only half-listening to the last portion. "I think you're capable of it" says enough. Jack looks at his coffee once he's poured it, and though it's still pretty hot and also not how Jack tends to take his coffee (he drowns it in sugar and cream, of course), he still takes a large drink of it before heading back to the stove where he's cooking. He's trying to play off how much this bothers him, but he's not very successful in it. ]
Christ, next time I just want to feel like shit, remind me to schedule breakfasts with you, buddy.
[ He's dismissive and self-deprecating, since of course he doesn't trust Rhys with anything more than that. He makes a dismissive noise and crosses his arms with a cold look on his face, but it's fairly short-lived. But he looks to Rhys before too long before speaking again. It's not what he's thinking in full-- It's in fact only the very highest portion of all of what he's feeling swirling around him, but of course there's one thing that Jack feels certain of. ]
You sound pretty certain that I'm gonna kill you, so. Just gonna have to prove you wrong. I realize that's kinda an oxymoron, since, yeah, proving someone wrong about not killing them just means not being a crazy dickbag, but. I think you get the sentiment I'm trying to get across here.
[ He takes another drink of his coffee, though this time, he frowns more at the bitterness. Cheap black coffee is the worst, why did he do this to himself. ]
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He'd probably been half hoping for Rhys to take back what he'd said at least somewhat and offer... Something. Forgiveness doesn't seem to be the right word, because there's nothing really to forgive here, or not in any way that makes sense in this odd situation. Jack had been wanting some reassurance that no, he could be different, that things would be different for him, but Rhys doesn't offer it. In fact, he just asserts it.
Rhys is so certain of the man Jack will become, and Jack doesn't even have that certainty for himself just yet.
It's chilling in a way that's difficult to hide. He's listening as Rhys takes that coffee from his hands, and Jack gets started with making his own, but he's only half-listening to the last portion. "I think you're capable of it" says enough. Jack looks at his coffee once he's poured it, and though it's still pretty hot and also not how Jack tends to take his coffee (he drowns it in sugar and cream, of course), he still takes a large drink of it before heading back to the stove where he's cooking. He's trying to play off how much this bothers him, but he's not very successful in it. ]
Christ, next time I just want to feel like shit, remind me to schedule breakfasts with you, buddy.
[ He's dismissive and self-deprecating, since of course he doesn't trust Rhys with anything more than that. He makes a dismissive noise and crosses his arms with a cold look on his face, but it's fairly short-lived. But he looks to Rhys before too long before speaking again. It's not what he's thinking in full-- It's in fact only the very highest portion of all of what he's feeling swirling around him, but of course there's one thing that Jack feels certain of. ]
You sound pretty certain that I'm gonna kill you, so. Just gonna have to prove you wrong. I realize that's kinda an oxymoron, since, yeah, proving someone wrong about not killing them just means not being a crazy dickbag, but. I think you get the sentiment I'm trying to get across here.
[ He takes another drink of his coffee, though this time, he frowns more at the bitterness. Cheap black coffee is the worst, why did he do this to himself. ]
...Hope so, at least.