Robby's running late. The panel he'd been in had run over and he'd been sweating in the same shirt all day, so he'd gone back to his room and showered and changed and his hair's still damp as he walks into the bar. For a horrible moment, he thinks Jack left already, but then he seems him, tucked into a booth in the corner.

Robby knows better than to touch Jack when he sees him but, God, he wants to. It's been a while.

"Jack," he says, sliding into the bench seat opposite him. "Hey."