[it's good that jack is obediently following him. it might be a small change from the usual, but when he's got one gold wing in hand it's a little hard not to follow. the thumb rubbing over his skin the way it is is a bit concerning, the twitchiness doubly so, and oswald squeezes his hand gently but doesn't open his mouth in time to let out a question before jack does.
the cloak? —the one he's hung up for later use? his steps pause and he looks at jack, momentarily curious.]
[because it never struck him until now to say 'thank you' (because he wasn't sure and jack is flighty) seeing as he knows for sure. there could be no one else. he could tell him the red could be lighter - more wet blood than dry - but it suits him just fine and he doesn't actually mind.
oswald threw glen's cloak into the flames when he found he couldn't salvage it, after all.]
no subject
the cloak? —the one he's hung up for later use? his steps pause and he looks at jack, momentarily curious.]
...it did. [and then, sincere and fluidly warm:] Thank you, Jack.
[because it never struck him until now to say 'thank you' (because he wasn't sure and jack is flighty) seeing as he knows for sure. there could be no one else. he could tell him the red could be lighter - more wet blood than dry - but it suits him just fine and he doesn't actually mind.
oswald threw glen's cloak into the flames when he found he couldn't salvage it, after all.]