Jack raised his head, looking to his son to make sure the -little brat- boy was eating.Â
Good. He at least was appreciating his motherâs food.Â
âGood, ainât it?âÂ
Jack shot him a grin before grabbing a beer from the other side of the table and putting it in front of him. A usual gesture from before; he always drank with his son. Sinister setting or not- he was being nice here.











