And Hector has found a comfortable corner of the cabinets, his back to them as he's slid down them to the floor, his legs stretched out front of him, Nutella in hand. That had been amazingly satisfying, punching Jack in the face, even if that fool has a hard head and his knuckles are most certainly letting him know all about it.

Doesn't matter, it was worth it.

"Aye, I suppose that makes us square. For now."

Not that he even bothers to look up at Jack. He's got the Nutella, which means he has won this round. And knows that Jack knows that as well. So he's content to simply sit where he is, taking up as much space on the kitchen floor as the length of his legs will allow.

And when he thinks of it, this is probably the first time he's really come down to the kitchen since he blew up that microwhatsit. Funny, that.