Jack stopped dead and raised an eyebrow, wondering how he knew. "It's a harpoon wound. That means there's a hole in my shoulder." Sam. It could only have been Sam. "How do you think it is?"

And that got both eyebrows in on the action. "I'm touched by your concern, Kawalsky," he said, feigning surprise. "I had no idea how much you cared for my well-being." Jack tilted his head and smiled slyly. "It's almost sweet."

Jack's smile dropped away and he studied Kawalsky intently, weighing up what he'd said. "Does that mean, seeing as I'm not dead and Sam was upset, that you're intending to kick my ass now?" he asked casually.

Jack hadn't been awake very long, and he hadn't had coffee, and his brain just couldn't follow the conversational switch fast enough. "Stay away from Alanna?"

Most of that was just so much noise to Jack, but at the mention of Aly, he smiled. "She's a total sweetheart," he said, remembering her bargaining for how big was big enough.

"Someone like me?" he asked, lightly. "Care to explain that one?"

Oh, so many responses to that. So of course Jack picked the worse possible one. "I don't know, Kawalsky. Aly seemed pretty fond of me. She called me daddy and everything, wants me to teach her stuff." That sly smile was back. "I can never say no to an adorable blonde."

Which he'd half been expecting, seeing as he'd been deliberately pushing Kawalsky. But half-expecting wasn't enough time for him to do more than twist sideways, and deflect it enough to keep his jaw in one piece.

It hurt, and it pissed him off, and forgetting little things like having a hole in his shoulder and everything Sam had ever tried to teach him, he swung back, aiming for Kawalsky's gut.

In an ideal world, Jack would have neatly sidestepped the charge, and added insult to injury by kicking him as he went past.

This, however, was not an ideal world.

Jack went down, hard, and took most of his weight on his left shoulder. The one with the hole in it. "Frak," he hissed, going pale, but rallied, trying to strike up at Kawalsky's chin with his right hand.

Jack had had just about enough, and he wasn't anywhere near as pissed off as Kawalsky seemed to be. As the punch hit home, narrowly missing his nose as he dragged his head to the side, that was starting to change.

He braced his hand on Kawalsky's shoulder, got his knees up, and heaved, trying to throw Kawalsky away from him.

Breathing hard, aching everywhere, Jack rolled to his feet, watching Kawalsky warily. Gingerly touching his jaw, he winced and pulled his hand away.

"What the fuck is your problem, Kawalsky?" he ground out, doing nothing to close the distance between them, and more than a little to increase it.

"So what it boils down to is my existence offends you?" he asked, incredulous. "I've got Sam, and I don't deserve her? The ways someone like you would?" Yeah, he'd noticed the slip. He clenched his fists, nostrils flaring, truly angry in a way he hadn't been before.

"Suck it the hell up, Kawalsky, and deal. I don't even remember Liz, Sam picked me, and as for the rest--" He snorted and instantly regretted it, pain radiating from jaw to shoulder and back again. "You might not think it's cool, but plenty of people disagree. Go tell them they're wrong and leave me the hell alone."

This time, Jack was expecting it. This time, Jack was angry enough that adrenaline was blocking the pain nicely.

He danced out of the way, stumbling, but staying on his feet, and kept moving, circling away from him. There was no way he was letting Kawalsky get close again. "Will you calm the hell down?"

The longer this went on, the more he hurt, and Jack finally planted his feet, eyes narrowed, arms at his side. "Fine. You're so much better than me? So incredibly morally superior? Then hit me. I won't try and stop you. I'm already injured so it shouldn't be much of a challenge. And then you can feel so damn good about putting me in my place."

Jack watched him for a long time, until he was sure Kawalsky wasn't going to try again. "We done?" he asked flatly.

"Whatever." Jack turned his back on him and started limping back to the dorms, one big ache that centred around his shoulder. Not that he was thinking about that. Or about Kawalsky. Sam was going to kill him.