am I stitching up seams, or pulling on triggers?

JACK

"Makin' me happy ain't just about doin' the things I like, love," Jack says, the words almost a surprise even to himself, his lips curling in a sudden, quiet smile. "Sometimes it's about doin' shit that's good for me." Whether that's space or silence or the complete opposite; forcing a conversation he doesn't want to have, or asking things out loud even if he'd prefer to dig his fingers deep into his magic to come to his conclusions without giving his own input. "I learned that a bit too late, though, same as how I learned you needed more'n I was givin' you."

Dragging a knee up to rest his forearm across it, Jack's gaze settles, dulled with the realisation that this conversation is starting to feel like a trickle circling a drain. "I didn't either," he mutters. "It was fine until it was here, I think." He gestures around the cabin. Too close to home in that it was home, for Flora as well as for Jack over the seasons. Too many thens mashing back together with nows had muddled things impossibly. It's what had made him ask her to stay in the first place.

"What do you need?"

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!