There's a slow, unremarkable arch of one of Jack's brows in Chase's direction, utterly unimpressed. He's not going to hit him. He might like to, but what's the point in hitting something that isn't going to really be hurt? He understands Chase's twisted kind of thrill for it better than he should. It wasn't that long ago he was screaming at Bucky, getting thrown across the harsh ice in the Ajna base camp, and feeling bones crack under a metal hand, just because he wanted the feeling.

But this isn't then and Jack isn't feeding another addiction when he has his own to tend to well enough. Instead, he reaches the hand forward, and pinches Chase's nose between two knuckles, wiggling his head by his nose. Hurrhurr.

"They're so cute when they're fucked up."