Jack merely smirked at Reinette. A knowing sort of smirk that said a great deal he suspected she already knew quite well.

And he liked that. That quiet conversation they could have without ever speaking. An understanding that would (and did) pass between them.

If he were to reply at all, it wouldn't be now, because where once was a hospital room, was now a small quiet Paris street. There was a chill in the evening air, but it wasn't cold, and the streetlights paved their way to their destination.

Jack shook himself, shaking off the sensation from the travel, and he offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"