[Muscle memory, it's all muscle memory, just like the tap-tap-tap of Jack's fingers against the counter occasionally when he remembers some snatch of melody; sometimes he hums them, sometimes he just plays them out silently and without any particular fanfare, but there's always at least a little noise coming from him when he's up here, usually.

For what a week's worth of bar-diving has established, anyway -- tonight he's remarkably quiet otherwise even if he's still engaging in conversation.

His smile tilts a little more as Marcus finishes off his drink, all spontaneous.]

More than five... less than fifteen? I was counting, but... [maybe at some point he lost track, somewhere between being maudlin and people appearing at the bar] Can start from zero. I won't tell.