Jack<i>felt </i>her enter the room. It was more than just the subtle change in the air, or the way all conversation seemed to quiet, or all eyes seemed to trail to the same fixed point at the door. It was deeper than the clicking of her heels or the scent from her preferred brand burning gently at those fingertips. He knew her, in more ways than he felt he should have, yet he didn't react immediately. Dozens of nights where he awoke uttering her name only to feel slapped in the face by reality once more. He had forced himself to not jump every time his mind, too sleepy or too drunk, falsely detected a half imagined hint of<i>her </i>at the door. So when she took a seat next to him, real and solid to the world, it was a genuine surprise.<br/><br/>He froze, only for a moment.<br/><br/>In the next instant sobriety blasted the cobwebs from his mind and he had already found six different ways he could kill her, right there and then, with only a 20% chance of failure. Only two involved possible civilian casualties. Only one would require the shotgun the bar tender kept tucked in the alcove near the register. He had calculated nearly all of this within a second, but the old soldier in him was nothing if not a picture of discipline, and the self control asserted itself now. How ever much she deserved a knife in her eye, there was one question that burned inside him. It was behind the still smoldering remains of his torn down soul, and the reason he woke up at night with her name on his lips. If she was real, and she was here... He wouldn't miss this chance.<br/><br/>First thing's first though.<br/><br/>He didn't look at her right away, instead nodding a bit of thanks to the bartender as they poured his next drink. He listened to her quip about hangovers and employers, the words still seeming just a touch too surreal. He chose then to face her slowly, watching that smirk play out on lips that even now sparked old memories and promises made wrapped in smoke and bed sheets. Her velvet voice eased through the space between them, baiting the hook on how she might explain what she was doing there. It was the most obvious question Jack should have asked, but he didn't ask it. He only wanted to know one thing, and even now, it wasn't the time to ask. Instead, he glared daggers directly at her, his expression like stone if one could bring a rock to covey malice. He spoke low and with a barely suppressed anger, "You... I've wondered what I'd say to you if you ever had the suicidal impulse to step foot within my vision ever again. Pictured it a dozen different ways. Now that you're here..." he<i>almost </i>had to hold back a laugh, "I don't feel like there's much of a point, so instead I just want to know four things:"<br/><br/>"What gave you the nerve to come walking into my bar?"<br/><br/>"Why should I listen to any damn thing you have to say?"<br/><br/>"Why shouldn't I try and put you through that wall right now?"<br/><br/>The fourth he left curiously absent.<br/><br/>He downed his glass and then slammed it on the counter, raising his voice to the bar keep, "I'll pay for my own drinks. I counted on her once before and she just skipped out on the tab. Left us all to pick up the pieces..." He gave her a smoldering glare.<i>God</i>, she was gorgeous! After everything she had done, being this close to her still made his pulse quicken just a bit, but that only made the pain worse when he thought about what she did. The hand that wanted to reach out and gently touch her cheek went slowly and smoothly to the grip for the rapid release folding knife clipped behind him. "Be convincing..." he growled at her.