The silence in the room was not one Jack was used to. Silence was something he had long avoided and avoided because in its presence he could do little to avoid his mind wandering. He didn't like his mind wandering. Thoughts of what he was looking for, what he'd lost. His mistakes. In the Hub he'd filled those silences with an old cracked record or the focus of a drip of an old pipe.

Here the silence made the voices in his head almost deafening. His memories wouldn't leave him alone.

For that reason then, he was glad when here voice shattered the glass that seemed to hold him within his own mind, and he turned his head to look at her. Very quickly, though, he realised it wasn't him she was addressing.

He tried to catch up, quickly. Her gaze was on a clock, a broken clock. But there was still ticking, and more than that she seemed more than aware and familiar with the situation. His back straightened up even further and he spoke in quietly demanding tones.

"What is it?"