It's not fun. Aside from what Tony's brought him, he's had nothing on his stomach for who the fuck even knows how long, and so it's mostly cold, unchewed Indian food and acid that comes up. Pepto - Jack hacks up a noise that might be a laugh and lets himself slide to the floor, his back against the cabinets.

"I killed the guy." He lets out a single low giggle, head falling back to thud against the cabinet door. "Thought I'd feel better."

He doesn't feel bad. Just another piece of shit thug like Jack that nobody was going to miss, nobody would probably even look for - no telling why he's spilling all of this to Tony, because it's not to make him feel better, but he spills nonetheless. What else are they going to talk about? Funeral arrangements? He's not exactly in any shape to leave unless Tony kicks him out, so until that generosity runs out, they're stuck with each other.

A beat. He shuts his eyes.

"Kinda do."