The only thing keeping Geordie rooted to the chair was Jilly's hand on his arm. It kept him sitting even as his temper flared and urged him to stand and punch Jack hard enough to knock him to the floor. Whatever Jilly might have thought of the man, he had no right to accuse him of being a pimp. No right. Especially not in front of Jilly.

But it didn't keep him from glaring at Jack. His eyes narrowed and any previously jovial (if not still a little confused) look vanished. Whether or not this was a dream no longer mattered. What mattered was Jilly's dignity. Her emotional well-being.

Gently, he removed Jilly's hand from his arm and placed it on his lap, clasping it tightly in left hand. He wrapped his right arm around her shoulder to pull her into a half-hug against him. It was, maybe, a lame attempt to protect her from words already said, but he tried.

He stayed quiet at Buffy's request, only looking at her briefly when she spoke. Otherwise, his attention remained entirely on Jack.