"Listen up, sweat pea. YOU don't think. YOU don't make decisions. That all comes down to ME. Considering you got injected with my DNA and all, I'M still making the choices, even when you can't talk to me." There's an amused gleam in his eye as he pats his own cheek-- because that's all the man before him is-- another version of himself. "And if you get any widdle ideas-- I'll blow your head clean off. Seriously. I will."
“uhh---” any protest the body double might have had practically dies in his throat as lips purse together, brows furrowed into a small frown. it doesn’t suit him--- well, it doesn’t suit jack, so timothy tries to school his expression back to something that won’t offend, if only to save himself the oncoming argument about that. that’s probably still going to come, anyway. not that he’d expect this little ‘meeting’ or whatever the hell jack might call it going any other way, all things considered.
“that’s---- yep, got it----is that--- all you needed me for, sir?” not that a reminder about his face being blown clean off was needed, considering his stress levels were already unnecessarily high on any given time of the day, but alas. surely gets the desired effect, the nervousness clear as day.