She holds back on pointing out that they can make ice. Even she can do it, that's how easy it is. His brain must be giddy from their safe arrival. Inside, she kneels on the floor with Rocky, out of Frank's way but within view. There's nothing peculiar he pulls out and no particularly odd spot where he chooses to store something, so Jess gives up on memorizing where things are. When she goes looking for them, they'll be right where she'd first assume.

With the exception of the whiskey bottle. Freezer, freezer, freezer, don't forget, Jones. She decides the rest of her liquor is good where it is, snuggled between her clothes.

While Frank clears the kitchen of their duffels, Jess stands and returns to her drink. Rocky remains seated for a moment, adopting a little of Frank's cautious ease. He gets up and pads over to her seconds before Frank rejoins them, and then Rocky starts to pant eagerly again, his attention torn.

"What about Rocky's couch?" she asks facetiously, setting her glass down. As she passes Frank, she runs her hand across the back of his shoulders. Jess can manage one chair in each hand, grabbing them by lower rails. It's cumbersome and forces her to walk sideways not to knock into anything. She doesn't need any help opening the door but if he gets to it before her, she's not in a position to refuse it without looking even more ridiculous.