A tiny, minute crease on his brow at the remark as Jack parsed what it referenced, then it smoothed out again when he understood what Damian was saying.

"That makes sense," he answered with a shrug, neither taking it as a joke nor a rebuke (which was good) and dipped the rag into the oil again. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows to try and keep the worst of the oil from soaking them. Oddly enough the oil was also soaking into the spirit's hands and having a similar effect to that of the shell, as Jack's skin was often on the drier side himself because of how cool his temperature was.

Feels good! Taraja sent, sensing the likeness. Good for everybody!

I'm glad, the winter teen responded warmly, affection laced in the thought before glancing over at Damian again.

"Maybe you could suggest this to the others," Jack offered. The information might be better received by the other turtle caretakers from one of that group (of which Jack wasn't, despite his helping) and... well, maybe he thought Damian could use a little positive feedback for sharing.