It was true that he had been aware of ol' Jack getting back to his roots, of those tactics which were fast, brutal and effective. Between the two of them, Jack could have been considered the more dangerous as he had lost what scruples he had to kicking the absolute crap out of other people. The old soldier might not kill them, but he would maim them beyond belief, whereas Reaper was tactical, almost surgical in his choices when it came to kill. He was using microcosms from decisions to spin his spiderweb.

And he was already gathering information. Jack not blowing out frosted breath? Information. The fact that he could and would hit harder? Information. Right now, he was information gathering, learning what he could of Jack's new form so that he could tactically maneuver his way around it.

After all, he had a perch of his own where he could duck and dodge those kicking cloven feet, slapping them hard enough so they passed by him. Certainly, smoke rose from some of his motions as his concentration was focused on the battle, so holding himself together was a touch of an after thought. He had been doing it long enough that it was practically a normal occurrance.

"And yet... spit-shine and polish was what brought you down to your knees. Maybe you should have been better at it," he remarked with a deep growling laugh. "Come now, swinging from the trees like a monkey. Is that the best you can do, Jack-be-nimble?"