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✈ day four, video
[It's been a few days since his arrival, and Jack's had some time to sit and let this all sink in. It's, bizarrely, helped a little that Scott and Nathan seemed to know who he was, had apparently had a conversation with him three years ago before they'd left the Island, before he decided they had to lie about everything. It makes it easier to focus less on keeping up appearances, and God knows he's had enough of that over the last few days (weeks, months, years) to last him a lifetime. He's kept a relatively low profile, although he has wandered around a little, and changed out of the khaki jumpsuit he'd shown up in, so he doesn't quite stick out like a sore thumb.
When he turns on his comm, he's in his room: a relatively nice, moderately expensive looking bedroom without too much personalization. It's neat enough, although there's definite signs that someone's been living here - the bed's not really precisely made, that sort of thing. Jack himself looks calm enough - maybe a little stressed out, or just distressed, or irritated, but he's keeping all that back in an attempt to get the hell down to business.]
My name is Jack Shephard. I was a spinal surgeon in Los Angeles before- [He hesitates a beat, and one corner of his mouth ticks up a bit in a disbelieving smile.] Before I died.
[Because he doesn't believe it, really. Everything about this is so absurd, and even with everything he's been through in the last three years, he still can't just roll with this.]
People have already filled me in on what's going on, but there's been a mistake. I don't need a second chance. [And some of the desperation and anger is starting to creep past the forced calm.] Your "Admiral" took me away from mine, and I don't see how being locked up with a bunch of murderers is supposed to fix anything.
When he turns on his comm, he's in his room: a relatively nice, moderately expensive looking bedroom without too much personalization. It's neat enough, although there's definite signs that someone's been living here - the bed's not really precisely made, that sort of thing. Jack himself looks calm enough - maybe a little stressed out, or just distressed, or irritated, but he's keeping all that back in an attempt to get the hell down to business.]
My name is Jack Shephard. I was a spinal surgeon in Los Angeles before- [He hesitates a beat, and one corner of his mouth ticks up a bit in a disbelieving smile.] Before I died.
[Because he doesn't believe it, really. Everything about this is so absurd, and even with everything he's been through in the last three years, he still can't just roll with this.]
People have already filled me in on what's going on, but there's been a mistake. I don't need a second chance. [And some of the desperation and anger is starting to creep past the forced calm.] Your "Admiral" took me away from mine, and I don't see how being locked up with a bunch of murderers is supposed to fix anything.