His first instinct is to draw back, put up his guns, but his body doesn't listen anyway. Surrounded by scraps of some his tattered clothing and discarded gear, he's just staring at Jack through the black shirt around his head.

Even around people like Jack and Ana, he doesn't seem particularly comfortable with revealing his face. Ana just got lucky... or unlucky, from how he remembers her reaction.

"Morrison."

The tension slowly eases out of his shoulders and slumps against the wall again.

"You look like shit."

But that's the extent of his animosity for tonight.