Hearing a gruff voice respond from just around a corner, Jack leaned his head around to see a huge man hefting an impossibly large piece of equipment. The telltale scent of grease-cutting fluid and fresh, clean oil filled the air, and the amount of grunge on the man's hands said even more to the hardworking Newfie! A fellow working man! One not afraid to get his hands dirty! His grin became all the larger as he allowed the rest of his short form around the bend to stare up at the mountain of flesh before him.

"Well, der yar at!" he chirped happily as if the miner was a long lost friend, "An' look at ya, just! Big as a barn an' tough as nails to boot, I can tell, so I can. A working' cove if ever I seen one!"

The large container of molasses was laid to rest upon a nearby workbench as Jack continued to chatter. Jack look his eyes off of the man to look about at the various parts, bits, and pieces that almost all sorely neglected; their grime contrasted against the bright polish of newly cleaned metal that was hefted upon his shoulders. "Laird d'thumpin' Jaysus, all mops an' brooms in here! M'father'd have a right day with whatever come-day, go-day left dis place in a state!" Automatically his one hand reached out to grab an adjustable wrench that had been left in poor condition, nearly half rusted. The other hand snatched at the rag that had just been discarded and started to rub at it as he muttered to himself. "Damn, dis ting's not half shit-picky! Der's less rust in Pass Island, I'm sure..." 

Looking back up to big man and unaware he hadn't given him the least bit of a chance to reply to single thing said, Jack hammered onwards in genial companionship. "I'd be glad ta give ya a hand, me old trout, if yar wantin' it. Mind you, work like dis must be powerfully thirty a ting, an' if yar of a mind then when we're done we can talks a bit of getting sached, if ya follows? Looking to brew some screech, or at least some poteen, got the lassy but not an old slut kettle or piss pot for a still an' hoping' to find someone of a like mind? Glad to help one way or t'other, but if yar known' any who's partial to a crawl an' has got no place to crawl to, well... I'd be a man much in yar pocket!"

Jack paused long enough in his friendly rambling to take a closer look at the giant's face. "Ya feelin' alright there? Ya look like a hen's arsehole in a nor'west wind." He'd hate to think that the man he already thought of as a friendly and likable soul had taken ill already, but he was well aware not everyone had come out of the deep sleep as well as he had!