"I've told you, there was a mini-me running around. he wasn't evil, but he did need a haircut." he shrugs, as if that fact justifies everything.

Jack comes back to the table and looks at the single Guinness. "I think that's yours." He hands the bottle to Daniel, gives Martouf his whiskey and sits down, staring mournfully at the empty packet of Froot Loops. He's not eaten since he came to the bar, and She knows it.