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[not_as_factual]

The Jack Harkness who enters the Nexus this particular evening looks like he's seen better days, to be honest. It's a combination of stress and very little sleep, which might be inferred by the dark circles under his eyes and the venti cup of Starbucks in his hand, combined with the lackluster way he settles back onto one of the Convenient Nexus

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[missing_an_eye]

Demoman holds out a bottle in a friendly gesture. "Drinking's the way ta go. No other use fer it, otherwise."

[not_as_factual]

Jack eyes the bottle dubiously. He knows not to drink random things in the Nexus. "I could stand to get totally skull-fucked my alcohol," he admits.

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[missing_an_eye]

"Nothin' better than this, then." Nodding, as if to agree with himself, Demoman continues. "This," gesturing at the bottle, "is the best stuff ye'll find within miles. It's mostly made out of cactus and can knock ya out within a few shots."

He pauses. "'Cept fer me, of course. Never understood it." The bottle is still held out.

[not_as_factual]

Jack takes the bottle and gives it an experimental sniff. "I guess a little drink never hurt." Famous last words, much? He takes a small drink.

[missing_an_eye]

Slapping Jack on the back, he grins. "Tha's the spirit." No mention of the fact that bottle's contents can also be used in interrogations due to its mind sobering contents.

[not_as_factual]

Jack coughs at the slap on the back, chokes a little, and coughs again. He offers the bottle back with a sheepish grin. "Thanks."