[ The only indication that Jason isn't as okay with Vaas invading his space is the way his lip curls slightly as he moves closer. He still smells like Rook, like the jungle and Jason's eyes still flash with that intensity. There's a little voice inside of his head that tells him to stab Vaas in the throat, dig in the blade until the blood runs warm over his skin. Then he'd know he was dead, no question. That voice sounds like Citra, like Grant, like everyone he's ever known and like no one at all. It's the jungle. It's California. It's everything and nothing. His fingers twitch like he might do something, but in the end he remains deathly still.

He glares at Vaas when he finally steps back enough. He wants to rip out Vaas' jugular with his teeth. But, he doesn't. Of course he doesn't. Because he isn't a psychotic fucking hot mess. ]

You know what's frustrating? [ Jason throws his arms out wide then brings them back in to gesture at Vaas. ] You, dude. Fuckin'—oh my God.

[ Jason runs his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up wildly all over the place. He begins to pace a little, not unlike a caged tiger about to strike. ]

You expect me to believe that you knew that night and that's why you– [ he uses air quotes, ] "let me go?" [ He points to his own temple but looks at Vaas. ] You're insane!

[ He steps back up to Vaas, leaning down enough so they're eye to eye and snarls in a low tone; ] I'll take myself down if I can take you with me, Vaas.