There had to be something he could say or doe to make Jack look a little less broken. A little less hysterical. But he still did not quite felt right in a way and all that came to mind was to ever so casually lift a shoulder, as if he had not gotten himself killed during the draft after insisting that his boys be careful because it would be so very easy for any of them to die, as if he had not been gone for a week, as if he had not been a strange mess of anger and anxiety for the past few months before this mess.

As if things were not a good deal clearer for all that his head felt thick.

He lifted his shoulder, crooked smile spreading into something a little wider. A little sheepish. Faintly embarrassed, really.

"Miss me?"