Not for nothing. [ Irving counters, though more softly. ] Society alone is not what demands of man these sacrifices-- it is for our own sakes, Rackham. Don't you see? God grants within every one us the ability to act with grace, and virtue, w-with... dignity, and purity... strong, moral values. It is not perfection that He asks of us, no, but our devotion, Rackham. Jack. Our commitment to nurturing good and righteous souls.

[ So much for not soapboxing, but... at least it's not the worst he's ever come out with, right? He touches his hand to his heart, eyes shining still with earnesty and zeal, with eagerness to share this part of himself with Jack in a way the other man can understand, although Irving is absolutely too in his cups to see the futility in that notion.

Or, indeed, to consider that anyone might see them like this, the way his hand remains on Jack's wrist, fingers idly tracing the ridges of bone up to his knuckles.

He holds Jack's gaze with his own faintly bleary one, then blinks, lips parting in mild surprise. Not offense, even, just surprise, because he very obviously could not have seen this particular plot twist coming. ]

Wh-- do you mean that? [ He blurts out after a beat, perhaps not intending for flirtatious, himself -- Irving wouldn't know how -- but somehow still clumsily circling the mark. ] It won't be... she really doesn't mind?