hold on, hon (we're gonna bunny hug)

Wincing at the stiffness of her shoulders and the thunder that continued to boom against the inside of her skull, Claire reached over to retrieve the folded paper.

It was a note, she realized upon closer inspection, a note scribbled in very familiar cursive. Its message was concise: "You'll need these."

Right.

Jack.

(Or: Claire wakes up after a wild night out. Jack is there, too. Part three of "and all that jazz.")