worst behavior || nursey + jack
He doesn’t answer him, typing away at his keyboard in a way that’s visibly agitated, or at least irritable. What are normally soft, smooth clicks against the mac’s surface are now harsh, broken-sounding; each near-slam of his slim fingers makes a sharp clack in the quiet of the haus’ living room.
“Nursey,” Jack says again.
The continued silence makes it clear that he’s being ignored. Inwardly, he sighs.
“Twenty-eight, your captain is talking to you. Answer, now.”
At this, the typing stops. Nurse looks up at him, slowly, and his face is so uncomfortably nondescript and blank that Jack cringes a little inside of himself.