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It's early in the morning, and Jessica skulks towards Alias Investigations, aka her apartment, down the hall. She wreaks of booze, is dressed in yesterday's clothes, and has very tousled looking hair. She glances down at the floor as she passes her door guardian, and shakes her head with as much attitude as she can manage.
Her teeth toy at her bottom lip as she looks down at Trish. She emits a soft whistle and then frowns. "Come the fuck in," the door is broken as she pushes it open without turning the doorknob. "I'll make you coffee." She points a finger at Trish, "But this doesn't mean we're talking. Just coffee. And… chips. I have potato chips."
*
Snorting awake, in a rather unattractive fashion, as her ears pick up the sound of footsteps, Trish's grasp tightens on the baseball bat before she even opens her eyes. Only once they're open does she let out a low sigh and rolls her eyes. "And a jolly good morning to you too, Princess Whiskey of Scotchton." She murmurs as she pushes herself up with the help of the baseball bat.
She shuffles in, her heels barely lifting off the floor. "You should get the door fixed." She mutters, making an attempt to close it behind her. "I can pay for it to be fixed." It's all about protecting Jessica, after all! "Coffee's good. Just…just coffee." Although her grumbling stomach might suggest she'd eat the chips if they were put out.
*
"It's fine the way it is," Jessica answers flatly as she ticks her head towards the kitchen table. "The label on the door works. And so does the sign." She pads towards the kitchen and sets about making coffee. Seconds later, she returns with the bag of stale chips that she sets out on the kitchen table for the pair to.. consume. Enjoy might be a stretch.
"Eat," she declares and lifts her eyebrows before sitting in one of the two chairs at the table. "Why you stalking me?"
*
"It doesn't lock or properly latch. I'd say it has room for improvement." Comes Trish's quick response. "Anybody could walk in without your permission!" She sits down at the table and leans the baseball bat against it gently. She eyes the chips placed on the table and slowly reaches her hand in, bringing one chip out to eat. It's not great, but it will do.
"I'm not stalking you." She replies, looking at the table top instead of at Jessica. "I'm…I…" She chews on her lower lip, trying to get the words right. She knows that whatever she says, Jessica's probably not going to be happy with it. "I'm just making sure you're safe."
*
"Stalker," Jessica states bluntly in return. "You know it too." The part about anybody getting in has Jessica rolling her eyes emphatically. "Oh for fuck's sake. You know that I could pulverize anyone that would be in here. And if I couldn't, a door wouldn't stop them anyways." Her eyebrows lift expectantly. "You can't keep me safe. Not anymore than I can."
*
"I'm not a…!" Trish sighs and grabs another chip, chewing on it while she thinks of how to respond. "Look, I am forever grateful for how you've looked out for me over the years." She starts off quietly at first. "You're the only one who really knows how crappy my home life was. And you help get me out of that." Finally looking Jessica in the eyes, she continues. "You've spent years protecting me, it's the least I can do to try to keep you out of harm's way. If I can keep you from needing to 'pulverize' someone, my job here has succeeded."
*
"I look forward to pulverizing people," Jessica replies flatly. "It's one of the few true joys left in my life." Yeah, she's joyful about it, can't you tell. With a stitch of a smirk, her head shakes, "Anyone would've done the same for you. With that woman in your life — " she shrugs and then walks over to the coffee to pour two cups. One is set promptly in front of Trish. "It's fine. The door is fine. My apartment is fine. All fine."
*
"It's going to take more than your…emphatic exclamation of enjoyment to convince me to stop keeping watch outside your door, Jess." Trish tells her sisters point blank, raising an eyebrow. "And besides, it wasn't anyone who looked out for me. It was you." She takes a deep breath in. "You kept her away. I owe you for that." She takes the coffee cup in both hands and lifts it, taking a sip. "I…I just want to help, Jess. Honestly. That's all."
*
"You owe me nothing. I did that because I wanted to," Jessica states in return. "I'm not a saint. I'm not a hero. I'm not even all that strong in a world full of super powered people. Besides. You ought to be inside. There's literal hell in the Kitchen these days…"
*
"I owe you so much more than nothing." Trish sips on the coffee again and sighs. "You're the closest thing to a saint this building has, that's for sure." She glances around. She doesn't say it, but she definitely doesn't approve of the building…or the area. "How am I supposed to keep things out if I'm stuck behind the door, hmm?"
*
Jessica takes a long languid drink of her coffee. "The Kitchen is where I belong. I started a business even. And people have paid me." Mostly in booze, but then that's what the sign on the door suggests paying in. "And you have your own apartment. Go stay inside that place…"
*
"My apartment will always be there." Trish says quietly. "But you…I need to make sure that you'll always been here as well." She stares at her coffee silently for a moment. "It may be dangerous here, but I can't stomach the thought of something happening to you again. I care about you too much. I just…I…my money, my fame, I'd give it all up just to know that you'd always be safe."
*
"There, but empty. Safe but empty. You could be there. You could be safe." Jessica's eyebrows lift. "I'm fine. I literally went to Hell and came back." Her hand lifts innocently, "I had a madman inside my head for months. I am fine." Clearly. She cranes her neck. "I think I have some whiskey. Want to make your coffee Irish?"
*
"I can either be safe but worry about you, or in trouble's way, but be assured you're safe." Trish tells Jessica. "I'd rather know you're safe. It's the easiest choice I've ever made." She tells Jessica in a matter of fact tone. "What do you mean you've been to…" She narrows her eyes. "You know what? I probably don't want to know. Regardless, you're stuck with me." She rolls her eyes. "No thanks, I'm not feeling very Irish today."
*
Jessica shifts from her seat and steps lightly to the cabinet and finds a mostly-empty bottle of whiskey that she brings back to the table. The fluid is added to her cup of joe and she takes a long breath before bringing the cup to her lips. There may be evidence she's an alcoholic. "You should go find work or something. Obviously that fucking agent of yours isn't getting you enough work if you can just sit outside a shitty apartment all day and night."
*
Watching Jessica carefully, Trish is silent for the time being, just sipping on her own coffee and munching on the occasional stale chip. She lets out a little snort. "Maybe I told my agent to hold off on the scripts for a while. Can't work all the time while I'm looking out for you, can I?" She bats her eyelashes and smiles sweetly.
*
"You need a job. Or a hobby. That doesn't involve me," Jessica deadpans towards Trish with a distinct roll of her eyes. "You know that right? You can't just — sit here and guard my door forever." Her lips curve downwards. "I have people or whatever. I don't need you scaring my clients away. A gal has to pay for booze."
*
"I'm still getting royalties from It's Patsy. And that's in addition to the money I've made from the movies I've been in so far." Trish states flatly. "I have plenty of hobbies. I do charity work. Plus, I'm somewhat of a socialite. I can't tell you how boring it is to make polite conversation with uppity rich people." She rolls her eyes in annoyance at the thought. "I can't guard your door forever, but I can do it for a long time! And if it's money for booze you're worried about…" She puts down her cup of coffee and digs through a pocket in her dress, because she's fashionably practical like that, and pulls out her wallet. Counting the money, she pulls out a few bills and throws them on the table. "There's fifty bucks. That'll buy you booze for a while." She shoves her wallet back in her pocket and picks up her coffee, taking another sip.
*
The money on the table is met with a wry arch of Jessica's eyebrows. "I can get my own fucking booze. I have clients. People are coming and hiring me to do weird shit to watch the weird shit and find WEIRD shit. Just. Ugh. This isn't about your money or your career. I'm fine. Fine. You know that right? I'm fine. I'm going to be fine. I am fine. I just need to keep pickling my brain."
*
"And now you can get more 'fucking booze'. Fifty dollars worth of it." Trish sips her coffee and shrugs. "I'm sure you're great at this new job of yours, Jess. I'm just here to help. Consider me your security guard or something. I don't know. Just don't push me away!"
*
"Go home and we'll make a dinner date," Jessica answers in turn. "I won't eat anything," her eyes roll, "but I'll show up." And drink. That much is certain. She issues Trish a one shouldered shrug. She won't be the kindest sister, but she also won't push Trish away either.
Regardless, it's a start.