“You’d probably cool down easier if you took your mask off.” The doppelgänger grumbled. He wasn’t about to take it off himself to spread the chill, figuring he was already lucky enough to get away how he was manhandling his boss. He didn’t linger on the guy’s neck for too long though, carding his fingers through Jack’s hair from the back up to massage up his scalp. “Are you going to drink it or did I sneak it up here for nothing?”
Jack snaps out of his trance at the suggestion, eyes narrowing and teeth clicking together. He’s tense and quiet as Tim’s hands go from his neck to his hair. He has the sudden urge to lash out, to bite, to cause the other pain. He forgets all about the drinks, his headache– his irritation rides on the pain of it.
He goes for the other’s wrist, touch slow but unyielding as he brings Tim’s hand to his face and sinks his teeth in hard-- hard enough to draw blood. Talking about the mask was one thing, but suggesting he take it off? Let’s just say Jack has a few wounds that are still fresh. If it was any other time, he would have just brushed it off; but as it is he feels far too overheated, too moody, and its the perfect environment to let his rage simmer.