...which point Ian kindly makes for me after the commercials: he's Jack's emergency contact, and lives ten blocks away. As they stand at the foot of Jack's bed (in which the man himself is dozing), Ian asks what Marin's excuse is for being there. She tells him that she and Jack were at the opera: "That worked out well." Let that be a lesson to you, Marin -- you can tell this story to the next poor chump to illustrate what made you stop going to the opera altogether. She asks if Jack will be okay, and Ian says that he's just sleeping off the medication. They nod at each other, and Marin says that she was worried. I think Ian might be worried that the clasps on Marin's formal coat look so much like razor blades, but what he actually says, pointedly, is that Anchorage is a long way to come for a date. Marin tells him what the rest of Alaska already knows -- that she and Jack aren't dating, but friends -- and Ian smiles that Jack doesn't usually put on tuxedos for his friends. Maybe he should -- it would class up the Chieftain, raise expectations on everyone else there. I for one would like to see Jerome in a white dinner jacket. Marin flirts, "Believe it or not, that's all we are." Cut to Jack, his eyes fluttering open, as Ian clarifies that Marin's arrangement with Jack leaves Ian the option of asking her out. We get Jack's view of the proceedings as Marin warmly and unconvincingly demurs that it would be weird if he did. Jack, in bed, is sort of frowning as Ian presses: "Why?" Marin: "Because you're brothers, and one of you is currently passed out?" "So he can't put up a fight!" whispers Ian, joking but not really because he's kind of That Guy. To end this line of discussion, Jack, his eyes closed again, loudly clears his throat, drawing their attention to him and away from each other. She asks if he's okay. "Hey, bro," smarms That Guy.