Jack huffs out a little chuckle. Fair enough, he supposes. Still. “Well, good, cause you look about as durable as a wet newspaper.” A beat. “Do they have those in your world? Newspapers?” Not that it really matters. He’s already made up his mind. This is just... it’s the back and forth. It’s the natural hesitation before someone does something stupid. Tough habit to break, faking that hesitation.

He takes one last look back at the tram car, overcrowded already and with a line that looks more like a chaotic clump at this point. Then he turns back to Peter and spreads his arms. “Right. I’m in.” What’s the worst that could happen? Besides, a death is as good as a rest. Or something. He’ll figure it out after a shower. “So... how do we do this? Am I supposed to just grab the-- white-- stringy thing? Or what?”

Is it the mask that’s making this weird? It might be that mask making it all so weird. Jack kind of doubts he’s going to take it off, though. A mask is a very deliberate choice. Especially one like that.