There's an odd buzzing in the back of his head, still. The newness of hearing everything. He'd checked himself over when he'd grabbed the ratty, oversized turtleneck, the sleeves long enough to cover his hands and the cuffs folded back to prevent that from happening, the hem hanging to his thigh. The tattoo Isaac had given him? Gone. The knicks and small scars earned while cooking? Gone. He had a harder edge to him, leaner, paler, hair shorter. As he was when he first arrived. Fresh from the Deep Roads, all lean flesh and hollow eyes.

Perhaps that was why he chose so bulky clothing, the sweater and worn jeans that hung low on his hips as he leaned against the counter pouring himself another mug of coffee and brandy. Thud had his head snap up- tense and startled like a deer. He should have noticed.

But everything was still a little muzzy.

Jack. Just Jack. He offered the man a crook of a smile.

"Argento."