Jack cuts himself when he grabs Tony by the face, but he hardly feels it - there's no finesse to this fight, but that's okay, because Tony is waylaying on those ribs he broke all those years back and Jack can hardly breathe for it, and the wash of raw sensation wipes out everything else he's been dealing with for the past decade. The loneliness. The anger. All there is right now is him, and Tony, and the breathless gasp he lets out when he hits the floor.

Feels good, feels fucking great, feels better than he's felt in years and years, and Jack isn't letting go of it now, knotting his hands in Tony's clothes and trying to drag them both to the floor. Tony's face is colored with hate, and Jack is grinning mindlessly, hand dragging up to try and lock around Tony's throat.

It's been a long time since he's gotten to strangle someone.