Jack's unused to the way Isaac's face makes words, but he thinks he gets the important words. Nothing, heavy, garden, well . . . and one more that takes a moment to parse out before he remembers his own time having traded skins with Isaac. Zevran's acknowledgement of newfound magical appendages drags a snort of out him, and he steps inside, grinning crookedly. "Is it just teleporting for you? Lucky. I definitely set a few things on fire the first day."

He chances a glance to Isaac, but there's no smirk there, no sneer, just a reserve that looks so odd on a form he usually associated with languid intentional carelessness. "Apple? Yeah." He looks into the bag, then draws out the mesh bag of produce, lifting it up. "Few of those, box of berries, some peaches . . ."