( Jack doesn't say anything about it, but he takes a minute to consider the concept — and ultimately decides home isn't quite right. It's a part of him, yes, but it doesn't feel like home. It feels more like... his responsibility. His obligation. As long as the gas station exists, someone needs to guard it, and there's nobody who knows it better. Nobody better capable of surviving it. At least, nobody that doesn't have terrible intentions.
The gas station is his duty.
Of course, explaining that to a stranger would sound absolutely batshit, so he just nods and carries on. )
It's a gas station. ( He answers, like it should be obvious. ) Of course we have nachos. Come on, they're on the house this time.
( And probably every time since money here is fake, but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. )
no subject
The gas station is his duty.
Of course, explaining that to a stranger would sound absolutely batshit, so he just nods and carries on. )
It's a gas station. ( He answers, like it should be obvious. ) Of course we have nachos. Come on, they're on the house this time.
( And probably every time since money here is fake, but they'll cross that bridge when they come to it. )