The memory of You heard me is still foggy, a near-lost snippet in time buried under blurry tiredness and stress. Maybe he'll remember later, that strange epiphany, and think more of it. Maybe he'll even ask.

For now, though - his expression turns sheepish. "I'm okay with waiting until the morning. I should probably eat something and - change." Suddenly stricken with the realization of how death-warmed-over he must look, Jae's shoulders slump. "I can't really see either." His glasses, man.