it's just a bloodstain

JACK

Narrowing his eyes - touche for that, he supposes - Jack stares over the top of Flora's head to consider the matter again, frowning off into the darkness of the room. "I s'pose I'd not keep people around if the answer was no," he mutters, as if the realisation is a new thing for him as well in the moment. "I didn't grow up to be all that trusting of a person, though, so..." So it's hard. Frightening, even, which for a man who the world assumes does not feel fear (a bald faced lie) seems impossible.

"Good," he mutters in response to the thoughts ricocheting around her head. "You've got nothin' to be afraid of." Not at this point. Not with a dozen demigods in her pocket and Torchline at her feet. As for the why of it all, Jack raises an eyebrow to find himself peering up at Flora as she rolls over, and he wrinkles his nose at the memory. "I don't take well to bein' blackmailed," he says.

"She found out about me and gave a note to Raza - told her to open it if anythin' ever happened to her." The note, as Flora can probably surmise, contained Jack's secret in ink and parchment for anyone to accidentally discover.

"I don't think she ever realised I got it back." Not until he was drowning her, maybe. Shaking his head - it's hardly his favourite memory - Jack blinks back at the Doubletake.

romancing yourself is possible, narcissistic
and recommended