(no subject)
The door opens and Jack enters, though patrons would be forgiven for not knowing who it is at first. Kind of hard to tell when he's walking in while peeling off a grey, long-sleeved t-shirt, covering his face, while showing off an expanse of chest, stomach, and scar tissue.
Jack pulls the collar of the shirt over his head, blinks, and immediately wrestles the shirt back down. This definitely isn't Michelle's bathroom, and the flecks of paint in his hair and the streak of it across his forehead and cheek will just have to stay there for a little while, as the door shuts behind him. After spending hours painting the nursery in expectation of Baby Almeida's any-day-now arrival, he could sure use some coffee.
Jack pulls the collar of the shirt over his head, blinks, and immediately wrestles the shirt back down. This definitely isn't Michelle's bathroom, and the flecks of paint in his hair and the streak of it across his forehead and cheek will just have to stay there for a little while, as the door shuts behind him. After spending hours painting the nursery in expectation of Baby Almeida's any-day-now arrival, he could sure use some coffee.