Jack watches through the fingers of his outstretched hand, held steady in the direction the puck vanished in, nowhere near fast enough to snag it. There was less than a second, maybe, where his mind brushed the shape of it, but not enough to grab it, let alone hold it in place.

Jack flexes his hand, and then lowers his arm and turns to Erin.

"Alright, so... Maybe we should dial back from that one." Jack says, although he really sort of does want another stab at that, just to see if he has better luck if he knows what's coming, just to see if he can. Focus, focus.