A/N: There's just too much fun to be had with writing Jak, Jinx and Torn interaction. This story was the result of playing Jak 3 again recently. Have you noticed that Torn seems a lot happier in that game? I wonder why…

A sunny mid-morning in the city was perfect for cleaning out Southern HQ; with the war over, it had returned to The Naughty Ottsel. Inside, lounging at its bar and sipping a glass of water, Jak pondered. To his right sat the cigar-smoking blonde, who held the differing opinion that it wasn't too early for alcohol.

The younger male broke the silence. "You know, it's kinda nice…"

Jinx's head turned. "What is?"

"Look at him." The hero pointed a digit at Torn. The latter progressed around the room at the fastest speed anyone had ever seen, moving provisions, ammunition and weapons into boxes for collection.

Jinx didn't quite seem convinced. "He looks…active. Hyper, maybe. But not particularly happy."

"You can't see it, can you?"

"See what?"

"His face. It's practically a smile."

Green eyes looked extra hard for a solid minute, then saw it. "Oh, yeah." His face lit up, but the question remained of why the brunette was so happy. "Why'd ya think that is?"

Jak gripped his chin in a thoughtful pose. "Hmm…I dunno."

After considering it for a while, the pyromaniac clicked his fingers. "Maybe he got laid."

"Laid? By who?"

It was a sensible question. How many women could deal with the ex-Krimzon Guard Commander's grouchy and brooding demeanour? The pair of blondes shrugged in unison, unable to conjure answers. Perhaps there was another, better reason.

Well, 'better' might not have been on the eighteen year old's mind, considering his next suggestion. "Maybe he had a seizure, or popped some pills."

"Touched some Light Eco?" Jinx said.

"No, that kills normal people."

Show off, the older male thought, scowling. The hero often mentioned that he was the only one (bar the Precursors) who could cope with absorbing said energy – vast amounts of it, too – without negative side effects.

"Look…" the cigar smoker began. "Why don't we just ask him?"

"Hey, good idea," Jak beamed.

So, the pair approached Torn. Jinx hung back a little, well-aware that the question might not go down well. When a situation turned ugly, he generally felt Krimzon Wrath. The brunette stared at them, already feeling his good mood starting to wane.

"What is it?" he enquired.

"We just want to ask you something," Jak began carefully.

"Shoot."

"Why're you so cheerful? What's happened?"

The Commander's brow rose. "You mean I wasn't cheerful before?"

Uh-oh. The pyromaniac went to dash out of the bar, but an elbow in the arm quickly put an end to that plan.

"I didn't say that, but…well, you were kinda grumpy to us when we first met," the eighteen year old elucidated.

"I didn't know if I could trust you," Torn said simply.

"I know that, and I don't blame you, but…"

"'But' what?"

"Even when I saved Haven City from Kor and the Baron, you wouldn't really give me the time of day. You kept scowling at me. But now you don't, and we want to know why."

"Thanks for includin' me, Blondie," Jinx retorted, just knowing he was going to get a beating.

"I don't need a reason," the twenty nine year old almost bit. Almost.

"O…kay…" Jak said slowly, unsure why he considered this conversation a good idea. "Well, it's great that you are. I'll just…get out of your hair…" He turned on his heel to wander back to an unattended drink at the bar.

Then the cigar smoker stepped in. "What Pretty Boy actually wanted to ask was if it had anythin' to do with Ashelin bein' taken off your hands."

"What?" Torn snapped.

Uh-oh. The hero froze on his spot and scowled. He wanted to protest, but the ex-KG's expression had turned stormy, and neither blonde thought they could talk themselves out of the impending thrashing.

"You know, since Jak's borrowed her an' all…" Jinx continued.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! the eighteen year old's mind screamed, but he couldn't find his voice.

"You really wanna know why I was cheerful?" the brunette asked, and received a pair of nods in return. "It was 'cause Jak returned to help us win the war." His teal eyes narrowed. "But I'm not cheerful anymore."

"And why's that?" the pyrotechnician asked; for once, his voice lacked sarcasm, replaced by morbid curiosity.

"'Cause I only just found out that Jak's – how did you put it? – borrowing Ashelin."

"Hey!" The cerulean-eyed hero defensively raised his hands. "She came onto me." And then he realised that his contribution clearly made things worse.

Torn moved at lightning speed (it didn't occur very often; the last time had been when the Freedom League blew open the Metal Head nest), grabbing Jinx's ponytail and Jak's ruddy scarf, then hauling them backwards across the floor.

At the end of the day, the pair would understand the true meaning of pain.