[ Jess drifts back towards the kitchen, out of the dining room which is visibly even less used than the barely-touched living room. Neither are lit nor have been since she moved in a month ago. Every doorway but two has the hinges missing, exposing splintered wood, or hanging brokenly by a single screw, and the floors have never seen a broom. Evidently, she doesn't spend much time at home.
She finds a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, grabs the nearest cup and empties the cold contents into the sink. Resting her weight to the countertop, Jess pours herself a drink and places the bottle aside, concentrating on his words. There is nothing in the world she would rather listen to, regardless of the outcome, but this wrung out and wired, it takes all her focus. That's just absorbing, actually processing the information comes after and she's having trouble with it. Despite the mug hovering inches away from her mouth, she hasn't had a sip yet. ]
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She finds a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter, grabs the nearest cup and empties the cold contents into the sink. Resting her weight to the countertop, Jess pours herself a drink and places the bottle aside, concentrating on his words. There is nothing in the world she would rather listen to, regardless of the outcome, but this wrung out and wired, it takes all her focus. That's just absorbing, actually processing the information comes after and she's having trouble with it. Despite the mug hovering inches away from her mouth, she hasn't had a sip yet. ]
You're one hundred percent on this?