( cut for tl;dr nonsense about Jack's reactions to dying. )

[Voice]

Looks like I'm back to the land of the living and I ain't a dragon anymore. How is it that death is the cure for so many afflictions? First order of business - any women out there wanting a roll in the hay? It's been months since I had any. We can make it as romantic as you like, suits me just fine.

Oh. Guess I owe an apology towards certain individuals for any injuries I may have caused during that scuffle. But in my defense? You guys killed me. So don't expect me to feel too guilty about that.

Thirdly... thirdly... I need some cigarettes and a beer. And some painkillers. I also think I've got on hell of a case of phantom limb going here after losing those extra wings... and the tail.

Oh yeah, anyone seen a tiny blue cow running around? I lost track of the thing a few weeks ago.

[Yeah, screw the journal, he's going to the bar to smoke and drink. If he can't have some sex, this will just have to do.]