It's easier to be angry than it is to grieve, and Jack isn't a good person. He knows he's not. It isn't right for him to react when he knows Tony's hurting just as bad as he is, when he knows that he should be sympathetic, but familiar resentment prickles at the back of his mind anyway. His scar falls right over the corner of one eye, screwing with the tear duct, so he only has to wipe the left one with the back of his sleeve when he lifts his head.

He's trying to be good, he really is, but his daughter is a dangerous enough topic on his best days, and now the mention of her has his fist tightening in the material of Tony's sofa.

"I'm not letting anything happen to my daughter." My daughter. His voice stays low. "Her grandparents want full custody. I'm giving it to them. She doesn't--"

A pause. Never even finished high school (Sofia, what do you see in him?) so it isn't always easy for him to express himself, but now he fights to find the right words.

"She needs a real home. I want her to have a life."

And it's going to kill him, because he adores his daughter, and there's a very real chance that they're never going to let him see her again - no more scrounging up just a little extra money for that toy she wants, no more princess and darling and sweetheart and baby, and no more genuinely delighted bear hugs when he walks in the door. But it's in her best interest, he knows. Thinks.

"So cut the death threat shit."