[He's stopped. All right. Beckett can breathe again - a little, if only with the knowledge that he's gotten through to some degree and that Rhys sees his point, sees the hope in it. Not that Beckett is good with hope. But survival, yes.

He snarls at Jack's babbling, flashing fangs almost on instinct.] For God's sake shut up. I know you're jealous of what I have with Angel but this is embarrassing. [He says it without thinking. Isn't she his childe in all but the blood? So there.]

Rhys, breathe. This will pass. It's always passed.