[dohtml]<center><div style="background-image:url(http://img829.imageshack.us/img829/7563/jack4566.png); width: 411px; height: 550px;"><center><div style="padding-top: 320px;"></div><div style="color:#3e3a2e; font-family: georgia; width: 380px; overflow: auto; height: 200px; text-align: justify; font-size: 10px; line-height: 90%; letter-spacing: 1px">It was an exceptionally hot and dry Sunday afternoon, and it was also Jack's day off. He was just glad that he didn't have to wear his suit in this blistering heat, throwing on one of the shirts that he had found in his apartment (Edward must have left the crisp, clean and not one-hundred years old shirts there for him, since Jack had been wearing the same three pieces of clothing since 1989), some jeans and headed out. He had no idea where Edward had gotten off to, and since Jack didn't really have many other friends, he was stuck with nothing to do, nowhere to go and no one to talk to. Usually Jack would try to sneak back into work, but Luck threatened to make Jack spend the day with one Dallas Tucker if he tried. Dallas Tucker was often used as a punishment for the FBI and other police officers. His presence could be compared to water torture. Only masochists could handle idiots like that, Jack was sure. <br><br>

So, forced into a day of relaxation, Jack was anything but relaxed. He was always convinced that the world would collapse around him if he left it alone for even a moment. This control-freak, serious-level-of-trust-issues level of crazy was the reason that both his daughters had to deal with their father sitting in on all their sleepovers. Luckily, they had gotten used to their overbearing father over the years and took it in stride, encouraging their friends to decorate the frowning man in makeup, nail polish and various other torture devices. He dearly missed home and those happier times, even if it was all false happiness, a charade. He missed his daughters, his family and even his ex wife. Redgrove had given Jack a lot of good things, yes, but it just wasn't the same. <br><br>

He found himself wandering into the only bar in Redgrove; the stinky, loud Winchester. People had just gotten out of church, so they headed out to have a drink and some lunch at the bar. He pushed past everyone in his usually brash manner, heading up to the bar counter to order his drink. It was a bit early in the day to start drinking, but the beer was cool and Jack was acclimating to the Redgrove culture (half of which was centered around drinking). He wasn't exactly happy about becoming one of "them", but he was getting rather familiar with the place over the past several months. He knew of most of the natives, able to tell them from the newcomers. Some of them knew him by name. The bartender who brought him his drink even knew his name. With a little sting in the back of his mind, he remembered how he used to talk to Kara at times like these, while she was working at the Winchester. They could bitch about people and life together. Jack really needed more friends. Being in a strange town surrounded by strange people sure made a person feel lonely, even a hermit like Jack.</div></center></div></center>[/dohtml]