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Mar. 15th, 2006 10:13 pmHe hadn't come with all that much, really.
His worn shirt--the one he'd worn when he'd first stepped into this goddam trap of a bar--hangs loose on him and he buttons it up absentmindedly, pushes it into the waist of his jeans, hair wet from the shower he'd taken dampening the collar. The coat he'd begged from Bar lies on the bed, his hat next to it, and Jack takes a moment to run his hand over his face, freshly scrubbed and shaven and lets out a breath when he pushes his palm into his eyes, runs his hand through his hair.
He's glad there isn't a mirror in the room. He isn't certain he could look at himself.
Instead, he sets to folding the jacket neatly, and doesn't glance at the meager pile of possessions next to it.
His worn shirt--the one he'd worn when he'd first stepped into this goddam trap of a bar--hangs loose on him and he buttons it up absentmindedly, pushes it into the waist of his jeans, hair wet from the shower he'd taken dampening the collar. The coat he'd begged from Bar lies on the bed, his hat next to it, and Jack takes a moment to run his hand over his face, freshly scrubbed and shaven and lets out a breath when he pushes his palm into his eyes, runs his hand through his hair.
He's glad there isn't a mirror in the room. He isn't certain he could look at himself.
Instead, he sets to folding the jacket neatly, and doesn't glance at the meager pile of possessions next to it.
