Jack looked off again. He didn't like who he was now and he didn't like to think about who he'd be. He had forever, he had no choice but to be someone. And he had no idea who that person would be. She really could have no idea how close she'd hit to his own personal truth.

"Oh I know that," he said. Sleep was so often few and far between, even on his best of nights, and then even when it was achieved it was full of unwanted dreams.

Jack didn't often share himself. He didn't open himself, so perhaps that was why he could see that that was exactly what she was doing. He felt, if nothing else, that deserved a respect.

Her following sentiment though, more than threw him. "What?" he swallowed hard and his eyes (but not head) moved to acknowledge her hand on his face.

"I've never met you," he whispers. But there feels as though there's no weight in his words.