[ Jesus, he'll need a smoke after this. It's just too good.

And then it isn't. Then he jumps back like he's been burned, hand snatched against his chest like it's going to bite. Whatever just happened-- ]

I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't - I don't know what the hell that was, just - Tony--

[ He's off Tony in an instant, putting as much distance between them as possible without tumbling out of the little car entirely. Tony looks rough, so they're heading right back to his ritzy little dollhouse so they can... he doesn't know. Jack can do a lot with words, but he's hit a button in Tony that never needed to be pushed again, and there's probably no way to fix that. ]

That wasn't me. [ They're still swaying a little - he's still kind of drunk - but Jack takes it much easier than before, face buried in his controls so he doesn't have to look over. ] I didn't do that, it was - it's his fault. C'mon, you know I could never move that fast when I'm drunk. It was him.

[ Maybe he can convince himself of that, anyway. The other Jack did it. The other Jack is the psychopath, not him, he would never. And if he tries really hard, Jack can ignore the fact that he still got one hell of a rush off that reaction. And that he's still enjoying it, on some level. ]

Jesus, just don't die on me. Then you can tell me to fuck off. Just hang on.