"Hnhm." Jason looks back up at the blue sky, but of course it doesn't tell him much about the nature of the hypothetical barrier. "You look like the sort of person who innately dislikes rules and bounds. Perhaps that would be why you got so many warnings."

Jason's voice is neutral and dispassionate, a colorless sort of voice, accented with the notes of the ex-patriate Briton-- the edges of crisp pronunciation rubbed off by long tumbling about with American English and other tongues, perhaps.

He crosses his forearms on the rail, gazes sidelong at Spike a moment, before returning that gaze out to look over the park.

"The dispenser blood is serving adequately?"