John starts a fire pretty easily, keeping it low until he can get Jack downstairs. There’s a thick woven rug by the hearth, and with the throw pillows from the couch, a blanket and a couple cups of coffee or tea?

Some of John’s best childhood memories were made on rainy days just so—he’s hoping it’ll help Jack to relax that way. Or…find other ways to get warm, once John knows he’s not just trying to silence whatever demon is eating him from the inside.

He’s just starting up the stairs when he hears a minor commotion, Jack’s voice. It’s too muted and distant to understand, but it doesn’t sound good.

Taking the stairs a little faster, John reaches the bathroom, knocks, then cracks the door open slightly.

“Jack? Can I come in?”