“Still counting?”
“Trying to.” He shrugs. “Losing track already.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That happens.”
There’s a brief pause.
Then Jack tilts his head slightly. “You from Australia?”
“Yeah. Well, I moved there as a kid from the UK.”
“Where?”
“Melbourne,” I say. “I spent a lot of time out west too. Mines.”
His expression shifts—recognition, understanding.
“Western Australia?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus,” he says. “That explains a lot.”
“Explains what, exactly?”
“You’ve got that ‘I’ve worked forty-degree days and lived to complain about it’ look.”
“Accurate.” I hesitate for half a second, then ask, “What’s it like now?”
Jack frowns slightly. “What?”
“Earth,” I say. “Australia. What’s it like these days?”
Because ten years is a long time. Long enough that everything I remember is probably out of date. The world I left behind isn’t the one he walked out of.
Jack’s expression shifts, becomes something softer. More thoughtful. “Hot,” he says first, like that’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah, that tracks.”
“Hotter, maybe,” he adds. “Or maybe I just notice it more. Been back out west last few years.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Queensland,” he says. “Outback. Small cattle station.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah?”
“Grew up out there,” he continues. “Left for a bit. Firefighting in Brisbane. Then went back when my old man got sick.”
Emotion catches in his voice.
“Stayed after he passed,” he adds, more casually than the words deserve. “Didn’t see much point leaving again.”
I nod once. Offering no bullshit sympathy. Just… understanding. “Fair.”
Sonny glances between us, then leans forward like he’s about to interrupt.
I beat him to it. “What about everything else?” I ask Jack. “Cities still a mess?”
