The sigh he makes is half growl, half groan, resisting an eye roll despite the strong temptation. Every fine detail of this makes him want to throw himself off the balcony, or maybe throw Kavinsky off the balcony, but both options are merely a short term solution to a vaguely endearing dumb ass with his dick out.

"Get inside," he grumbles, taking half a step forward to suggest he'll be following.

The look on Jack's face isn't one of enthusiasm but then again it never is. He's here for a reason, one that hadn't initially involved dicks or mentions of jerking off, and yet here they are anyway. Yes, he'll follow Kavinsky inside if he goes, may even give a bare, scrawny shoulder a shove on the way in, but he won't be doing much beyond the same awkward standing he was doing out on that balcony. Just because he's here, doesn't mean he's agreeing to anything.

"Why?" Are you like this?!