Upstairs, Jack lingered at the foot of Beth's bed, scowling at the ruined glass of her dresser. He knew shouldn't have dragged Beth into this, but deep down beneath his immediate angst and tiredness, he was glad he had. In some ironic and topsy-turvy way, Karen, the very person he hadn't dared mention to Beth, had re-ignited something between them. He didn't really understand how or why, but he could sense it in Beth. Something had shifted in her demeanour towards him and he knew her well enough to know it wasn't just sympathy he could read in her eyes.

Beth emerged with two brandies, which she placed on the dresser, following his gaze over the mess of splintered glass.

"Don't worry, Jack. It's easily fixed. Have a drink. It'll make you feel better."

"You make me feel better." The words left his mouth before he could properly think them through.

Beth tensed and exhaled, her smiled tinged with exasperation. "Let's not complicate things, eh, Jack? It's late…"

"I know. I'm sorry." His hand flew to the back of his neck in a characteristic gesture evidencing his frustration. He was tired and confused by her mixed signals. "Maybe I should sleep in the spare room."

"If you like. It's up to you." Beth attempted to sound nonchalant, herself surprised by the disappointment she felt at this suggestion.

"I think it's probably for the best." Jack mumbled, collecting his brandy from the dresser. "Thank you for this." He raised the glass in a mock toast.

"Jack…" She protested, but it was too late: he had already gone.