(SE) when it lands

JACK

Jack can feel nausea rising again too, but he's not sure whether or not it's his own. It's either a side effect from Sunjata or it's the residual migraine mingling with the raising of his mental defences - either way, Jack is not here for it, and he lets out a long breath before rolling to force himself to stand. His cigarette is put out against the trunk of a palm tree, the smuggler straightening up and closing his eyes for a second, as if he's got vertigo. He doesn't, but it buys him enough of an excuse to stretch the fingers of his telepath to its limits.

And he hears nothing out of the ordinary, nothing beyond the expected. And he's about to say as much when he's assaulted by a fresh barrage of whatever the fuck it is that the Governor keeps thinking about, and shrugging it off is a mental effort that has the smuggler's jaw clenching. "Well," he supposes in a tight voice, "if it's enough to have you fuckin' rattled, that's a problem."

Eyes snapping back open, he glances at the Governor. "Have you got people to check the perimeter, or are we usin' mine?" he wants to know, the implication clear - the Governor's problems are Torchline's problems, so they'll be dealt with accordingly.