Oh, crap. Well, there comes the guilt almost immediately. It dawns visibly across his features along with a sizable helping of resignation, like he's begrudgingly letting the regret sink in despite how much he'd like to carry on being a dick.

"No- it's- just. Hang on," he sighs, holding up one hand while the other scrubs tiredly at his face. Fingertips press into his eye sockets, then drag down along the stubble of a slightly too long five-o'clock shadow. When he's finished with that, it lifts to gently join the other in a gentle gesture of surrender. "You don't have to apologize, it's good you told me now instead of- pulling a- you know. Us move."

AKA sitting on a deep and impactful truth just because it's a hard pill to swallow, only for it to come up later at the least opportune moment to bite them in the ass.

"I'm just- I'm processing."

He peels his eyes open again, and finally levels Jack with a serious, productive question.

"What year are you from? How far in the future does all this go down?"