Jack just hummed deep in his chest and rested his head atop Martha's, and continued to hold her for long enough they likely became a spectacle... in the middle of the street in some patchwork, impossible dimension, so yeah, one can imagine all the fucks he gave about hypothetical people staring. It felt good to be there for someone, even if he couldn't solve all their problems -- even if a lot of their problems were also his own.

Though it was more than a bit hypocritical, he couldn't help but feel a little angry at the Doctor on behalf of all the companions strung out across time and space, abandoned one way or another. He squeezed Martha tighter for one last moment, and pulled back to sling an arm over her shoulder.

"Shall we head back to your place," he said, giving a massively exaggerated leer, aiming to keep the mood light. "I'm dying to hear about this husband of yours."