Jacob recoils when Flynn sorts through his head, it's too far in his heart and it's too much--

"Get outta there!" It's less of a growl and more of a plea, even though he'd imagined himself saying it as menacingly as possible. He glares daggers at Flynn, he knows it's his own fault for giving him the idea--again--but these are his thoughts and feelings and it was so wrong that someone else was looking at them, picking through them like Stone was a table full of someone else's memories at a Saturday morning yard-sale, in front of someone else's house, finding old picture frames and albums and pouring through them.

"Unlike you two, Jones and I aren't insane!"