He feels like he should know her face. He can't exactly place it, and it isn't just a product of living in the same region — she looks recognizable. The problem with Jack, though, are all those pesky holes in his memory. His brain is swiss cheese, and he's lost count of the number of occasions where he's met somebody, remembers their face, but completely blacks out all of the actual memories associated with how he knows their face. He's just going to have to chalk it up to that, and hope he doesn't embarrass himself later by realizing the reason he knows her is supposed to be some deep interpersonal social connection they made at some point, or something.

"I- no, not really. I mean, sometimes, when I was a kid at like carnivals and petting zoos and stuff, but I never really cared for it. It always felt weird, I never really understood what all the hype was about."

Saddling up a tired, begrudging, broken-in beast of burden and having it listlessly cart kids in a circle while pretending like it should be some kind of exciting novelty, when neither the horse nor the person herding it could radiate so much as a single iota of enthusiasm about it. He always just felt a little bad for the animal, and otherwise largely disinterested in riding as a whole — no matter how the rural southern Horse Girl culture of local society impressed that it should be some awesome experience, or some part of his heritage, or something. Jack's just never been able to relate to it.

"If I can be completely honest and... maybe overshare a little, I'm mostly just here because the last horse I tried to ride almost killed me, and I guess I'm... stubborn? Maybe I'm trying to prove something to myself, or... process trauma, or something. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, now that I'm saying it out loud."