...I don't think so. [now, if only she had taught jack how to question her, or how to question oswald about her - maybe she would've lived. sometimes if oswald thinks about it hard enough, he starts getting bitter about it. he was affronted already when jack only questioned him, his wellbeing (stop caring about me, you're so strange), so it's not wrong of him to be bitter of jack not asking about her. then again, oswald shouldn't expect much out of a man who barely has himself by the door handle.

something tells him that maybe jack remembers more than he does. there have been cases of that, of course, that oswald has seen: people who come from different times in their world. maybe that's this and oswald just... came a little earlier, with a jack he knows was always frightened but still very fond of both he and lacie. it was strange - don't get him wrong, it gives him the creepy crawlies, he can't understand why jack doesn't keep away - but—

maybe he just expected too much from someone who has nothing to give but himself. oswald's gaze stays far off before he decides: jack had best run if he doesn't want to be touched. afterwards he can do whatever he pleases, but right now oswald's here and he'd be stupid if he let lacie's pet fall into a sick daze.]

I know what happens and I'd rather not watch this city burn. [when i've no control over it. his passions haven't smouldered out yet and he proves that so by reaching out to slide his hand along jack's braid. simple, little touches, fleeting things that he's capable of for a longer while.]

You don't like being sick, do you?