"Not enough to make this remarkable." Deadpan. Look at him giving the naked teen all the sass, although it's all harmless roasting. This is a guy who's done and seen more shit than anyone could ever be proud of, one tattooed little fucker with his dick out is hardly going to be offending Jack's sensibilities or scaring him away. Either Kavinsky is bored enough to want this, or he's desperate, either way doesn't really say much good about either of them, because Jack's clearly as much to blame for this situation as the the scrawny thing on the couch.

With an exhale dragging out of him that's enough to bring a shudder to his shoulders, Jack finally drags himself further into the room, feet scuffing en route to the couch and dropping into it heavily, leaving a definitive gap between him and his company. His head faces forward, his eyes being the only culprit displaying his vague interest in the pill and the man beside him.

"I can do it quicker than six, if that's all you're after." Skilled hands of an immortal who's done some shit.