The claws draw a raw noise out of him over the tearing of flesh and fabric. Siffleur cuts his throat, just misses anything that'd end it quick, which means Jack feels his ribs cracking under the rack swung with Siffleur's might. The rack doesn't come out unscathed either, since it's built to hold clothes rather than serve as a weapon, but hey, Jack's not in a position to use it again, so that's fine.

Fire runs the risk of igniting something, which runs the risk of summoning Friday, and he wouldn't want her to see this. He's done electricity already, and he's not in a mind or an angle to make use of telekinesis, and bees - they're off the table for this kind of thing. There's only so much he'd want to subject Siffleur to.

Ice should be off-limits too for that reason, for the amount of damage that can cause to flesh, damage which might not heal as easily as cuts or bruises... But he's made it through broken bones before, and he said he wanted Jack to show him everything he has.

Jack's hand makes it to one of Siffleur's forearms, and it's ice cold for a moment. Only a moment, because the air around his hand freezes into a puff of icy mist as he turns Winter Blast directly on Siffleur's arm, a spread of pain that only comes from a freeze so cold that it burns.

His jaw is clenched, but his face is pulled tight into a grin as he watches Siffleur.