Jack stretches and leans back in his chair exaggeratedly. "Vacation. The permanent kind. British Government decided my division wasn't worth the trouble any more. Wish I could see the looks on everybody's faces when they find out that I just casually closed up that rift for them on my way out the door. You're welcome, and fuck you very much," Jack finishes up that sentence with a rude gesture.

Hunh. Looks like Jack needs another drink, too. "North sea coast, it's all cliffs and cold, fun times, but not exactly speedo weather."

"There's this place out west, haven't been yet, but airships go there all the time, Transo Gol-sau-cia?" He has to take a second to pronounce it out. "Locals make it out like the equivalent of Vegas. Which, after that crap," Jack points at Johnny, "sounds like you need."