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"Really, Barry, depending on how you look at it… you're really just beating yourself up." The voice is sing-song, jovial, and rather optimistic. It's a rarity these days amongst the people in the greater New York area. Especially when one considers the owner of that voice is the known Menace of Manhattan, none other than Spider-Man.
Those few words are delivered upside down and from the dangling perch of a webline as the young vigilante talks to a man who is hanging from a street-lamp on a dimly lit side street just off of Hell's Kitchen. The one is in a red and blue suit that looks like it'd belong to somebody who does performance dance art. The other, however, is a big burly looking man whose face is red from hanging upside down as well, but it's clear his posture isn't his own decision considering all the webbing that's binding him in place. His outlook, however, seems fairly alright though considering.
"I know, I know Spidey. But I ain't good at nothin' else, my da was a third story man, my grand-da back over in the ole country. S'only thing my family knows ta do, ya know."
"I'd sorta argue that you aren't that good at it, Barry. I mean this is what… third time in as many months? And what's up with that?"
"Oh my uncle Phil, he's a good lawyer."
"See, there. That's an in. Maybe you can help him with his court reporting or something?"
"Nah. He's sorta the black sheep of the family."
To which if it could be seen, Spider-Man's eyes sorta just roll behind the eyelets of that mask.
*
The conversation is overheard by an investigator not far away. And there is oh-so-much to investigate lately. Like why Jessica had been denied a marriage license. Where the heck Remy disappeared to. And, not the least of which, included a random hit on her apartment.
The latter she blamed on Matt Murdock. Why would anyone care about Jessica Jones?
Her lips turn up at the edges in a grim smirk as she jumps down from the fire escape in a solid leap — something that definitely should've made her incur some injury. Instead, however, she stands up from her spot and stares at the pair. "Don't think he's into your career advice, Spidey?" she offers coolly. "Nah, he's got his own aspirations, I think. Probably something felony related. If anything, you should get him in touch with Nelson-Murdock. Pretty sure Matt specializes in hopeless cases."
*
"Got a card?" Spider-Man casually twists around on the end of the webline, but then lets go of it to drop to the ground with a thwap, landing in a three point crouch with templed fingers touching the sidewalk before he rises up to his really not that impressive height.
"I mean, Barry probably gets a family discount though."
To which 'Barry' does indeed give a nod that causes him to lightly sway back and forth on the length of that webline. But Spider-Man cocks his head to the side, "Say… you were that potty-mouth gal at that crazy cult thing." He points a finger at her almost accusingly.
*
Jessica rubs her chin. "I'm the potty mouthed gal that's at every shindig," she clucks her tongue and winks while pointing cheesily towards the Spiderman. Her eyes roll following the action. "But yeah, I was at the crazy cult thing. Some weird shit has gone down in this neighbourhood. And it seems to be getting weirder by the minute."
Her head turns towards Barry, "Don't carry Murdock's info around. But Nelson-Murdock is up the block. Just ask them to defend you. Like I said… hopeless cases."
Her attention turns back to Spiderman and she hums, "And what the fuck are you doing in the Kitchen?" or almost in the Kitchen, as the case may be. "Don't you like… patrol Manhattan or something?"
*
"Hey, I don't believe in borders. I am a man of the people. So long as they don't throw things at me. You ever try to get tomatoes out of a suit like this?" Spider-Man casually pinches an inch of the tight-fitting fabric and then lets it go to snap back into place. But then he turns and offers a wave towards Barry, "Cops are on their way, Bare. How you doing? Not feeling dizzy or anything?"
The apprehended cat burglar is able to worm a gloved hand out of the bindings long enough to give Spidey a thumbs which earns him one in return.
But then Spidey turns back towards Jessica. "So are you like officially a part of the cape crowd, or are you just a groupie?" He asks even as he starts walking towards the mouth of the alleyway, once inside planting a hand on the wall and casually crawling up a little bit, not away from her yet though, enough to stay close enough to chat.
*
"Don't all of the people throw things at you?" Jessica arches an eyebrow and shrugs. "And I would've thought they'd be more solid than tomatoes. The news folks didn't even want my statement about how you'd helped with the nastiness at that warehouse."
Her lips purse lightly as she follows him towards the alley. She rounds the corner and narrows her eyes, "Reformed. If there was a church of the caped crowd, I'd be one of the converts who walked away from their faith." Her nose wrinkles. It's not exactly one of life's big secrets anymore; even the police seem to know, and they're virtually the last to know anything.
"And definitely not a groupie. I just like paying gigs. Private investigator and all. Booze costs money." She shrugs. It's a matter of fact, even if she's been sober for months.
*
"Seriously?" Spidey turns around and presses the tips of his fingers against the wall, somehow supporting his weight on them and the balls of his feet. Those white eyelets narrow slightly as he turns his head to the side to look at her. "You used to do the whole caped crusader thing running around and all?" The eyes widen with a faint whir even as he crawls upwards slightly but still relatively on eye level.
"I've never met someone who used to do…" He waves a hand rather vaguely, "All of /this/ and then went on to lead a…" He sort of looks at Jessica and then clears his throat slightly as he murmurs. "Vaguely respectable life." But then he looks up, "Then again I haven't talked to a lot of hero types really. A bunch of the villains though…" His voice distances a touch, "Hnh, mebbe that says something about me."
*
"I'm not a hero type," Jessica lifts her eyebrows expectantly. "You can take that however you want." She inhales a long breath, "I did the whole masked thing, and it wasn't for me." Whatever that means is left to Spidey's imagination. "There is life outside all that. If you want it," she shrugs. "And, to be honest, people are shit. It's better to be on this side of the shit and expecting nothing more of them than that." Her lips purse lightly and she inhales a long breath as her fingers comb through her hair, "Even those you expect more of turn to shit in the end."
Her eyes narrow slightly as they follow Spiderman upwards. "Why not the heroes? THere's enough of 'em. Seems like everything is a stone's throw from someone dawning a cape. You seem too upbeat to not have a bevy of super-hero friends! All 'aw-geez' guys." She nods at the last as if to affirm her opinion on the matter.
*
"Wow. You're such a negative nancy." Spider-Man rocks on his toes a bit to the side and then pulls down the ladder of the fire escape with a jangling metal rattle, but at least it gives him a place to perch more comfortably, and now he's looking down on her physically if not morally.
His feet dangle off the lowest rung as he watches her, smirking a bit behind the mask, not that it's easy to read such expressions on him. "Oh I've met a few. Here and there. But…" Spidey turns his head to the side as his hands spread helplessly. "Lot of them have kinda different priorities. Or are a lil… 'woo-hoo'." He makes a little swirly motion at the side of his head. "I mean I met the Fantastic Four and they're pretty super keen. But they're like people first, superheroes second. For other people it's not like… so clear. If that makes sense."
But then he leans forward a bit, "And hey. I'm not all goody two-shoes. I listen to the rock music. I'm 'with it'."
*
The notion of being a Nancy earns Spidey a stiffening of the woman's posture. "Jessica," Jones asserts and then frowns. "Jones. Just Jones." Even her first name has far too much baggage to give to anyone for long. "You are most definitely goody two-shoes. A person only needs to spend a few minutes with you and they can tell that you're basically chocolate milk." She shrugs. "Or, at the very most, yoo-hoo. Chocolate pop wasn't meant to be consumed. By anyone."
"And I'm not sure rock music means you're with it." Her eyes roll dramatically. "Keep your sheen, kid. Sometimes it's good the world has that."
*
"Spider," He touches a hand to his chest, "Man. Just Spider-Man, really." She can probably hear the smile in his voice if not see it.
"Hey, Yoo-Hoo(TM) is delicious." The young man says, though he cocks his head to the side. "Though I knew a guy it used to give nose bleeds to. So… hey, mebbe the analogy works." That said he hops up to the bottom cage of the fire escape, just as the police car lights come from out front, most likely there to pick up Barry.
"So you're never tempted to just throw the old cape and cowl on, rush around like a freako with the wind in your hair just for old time's sake?" He offers a hand to her, symbolically offering for her to come with him as he starts to stroll up the steps. "I usually swing by across the city to the Bronx this time of night, then catch the sunrise near the zoo."
He hops up a few steps then holds a hand up, "But hey, if you're too serious and cool to do that I understand."
*
"Spiderman, then." There's a pause. "Admittedly, I think you'd strike more fear in people than the name Batman. I mean, honestly. Arachnaphobia is very well known. Fear of bats? I don't even know what the fuck that is." Jessica's teeth toy at her bottom lip and she treads after him and accepts the hand.
"I'm serious, but I don't think I've ever been cool," she offers in response. "But sure. I can watch the sunrise near the zoo." A glance is cast over her shoulder, "Not like anything is waiting for me at home."
*
"Wow, you just… man." He helps her up and to his credit he's not as weak and noodly as his skinniness might imply, since when his arm tenses he lifts her up pretty darn easily. But then they're climbing up the steps fairly quickly, him taking them two at a time. "I would call you moody but you have like… just one it seems."
But then at the top of the fire escape, just on the lip of the roof he hops up and then turns to look at her. "Waitasec…" Again there's that curious tilt as he looks at her, "Jessica Jones?" He leans forwards a bit as he takes a closer look at her, cocks an eyebrow… yeah she's about the right age, and yeah the features are about right. "Did you have like… some kind of accident or something?"
*
The help has Jess's eyes narrowing slightly, particularly as she wasn't expecting that. "I have more than one mood," she asserts. "Just… no reason to leave this one right now." She swallows hard and shoves her hands into her pockets. The head tilt in her direction has her eyebrows lifting again, this time with a hint of sardonic amusement. "Oh come on, yeah. Jessica Jones. Private Detective," but then the mention of the accident causes that initial prickliness to dissipate some.
"Didn't everyone in a cape?" she asks with a smirk. There's little question she has a sense of humour; she just mostly keeps it to herself. "But yeah. Car accident. In high school."
*
"Oh man!" The Spider-Man reels a bit from the edge of that roof even as a bit of laughter slips from him. He shakes his head as he walks across the gravelly surface, laving small foot steps in his wake while he moves away. He looks back to her and points, as if about to say something, but then he just shakes his head again and repeats, "Oh man!"
The laughter slips from him easily and it's clear that he's the sort of person that is just… sort of genuine. Like do people like him really exist in the real world? It's gotta be an act. But still, crazily enough, he's sincere as he tells her, "Haha, jeez. Ok, if we still are hanging out when we're both eighty remind me to tell you. Ok?"
*
Peter has partially disconnected.
*
Spider-Man's reaction prompts Jessica's eyes to narrow into slits. Her lips turn into a grim kind of smile, but there's something in the hero's gait and demeanour that eases it some. And then as an aside, she explains, "I was in a coma for a stretch." She adds, "The rest of my family wasn't so lucky." She shrugs. Jessica's emotional armour remains intact.
"You'd better hope you're not still wearing that at eighty," she mutters as she walks to the edge of the building and then sits down. There's no fear as she approaches the building's edge. "But sure. I'll try to remember to remind you," her eyes actually roll at that. "Thanks for your help by the way. With that building. And the cult-weirdness."
*
"Oh man, sorry. I didn't mean it like…" Once again, foot straight into his mouth. "I mean…" He can't say what he meant, can he? Oh hey, I remember you from school! Nope, that's not going to work. "I'm sorry you had that accident. I must've… read about it. And your name stuck. Alliteration. And all." Ok it's weak, but he's grasping at straws.
But then he clears his throat with a hand in front of the spot on his mask where the mouth would be. "So did you do the whole…" He points, "Rooftop thing?" As he says that he casually plants a foot and then somehow /leaps/ across the whole way to the other building. Spider-powers are nice. He lands, still close enough for her to hear him as he replies. "And hey, that cult thing was… it was certainly weird. I thought it was just like an LDS party or something."
*
Spider-Man's jump to the next building is met with a roll of Jessica's eyes. "Geez, Arachnid, you'd think you were just trying to goad me on or something." Her head turns and she glances between the buildings. When she's moderately convinced no one is watching, she kicks off from the room — no jumping necessary — finding a bit of flight and momentum before landing on the roof next to Peter.
"Sure. I did the whole rooftop thing." She shrugs. "Not all it's cracked up to be. Believe me. No hero." Her cheeks puff out with a long-emitted breath. "Gave it up in September or so. Not going back."
*
"September, that's not long ago." Spider-Man lifts his gaze as she flies and chuffs a bit with annoyance. "Oh you can fly, see that stuff is cheating." He jabs a thumb into his chest and opines as if it were a point of honor, "Us street level heroes have to just make do. Tsk." Sure it's a bit judgey, but then again she might be getting a handle on his sense of humour enough to realize he's rarely serious.
With that declaration, however, he turns and starts to run across the rooftop, leaping off the edge of it and letting himself fall, only to arrest that plummet with a crack-/thwip/ of a webline firing and letting him swing across the way. Should she accompany him close enough to hear, he'll comment. "So how'd you give all this stuff up?"
A moment passes, then he rethinks that question since that's another possible foot in mouth situation. "I mean, if it's okay to ask. Don't have to tell me."
*
The mention of September not being long ago almost stings, even if it can't be seen outside the vaguest change in Jessica's expression. She rubs her chin as she watches him cross the building. "I'm no hero," she replies as if that should explain everything. "I just proved it to myself and everyone else later than expected."
She sucks on the inside of her cheek and once more kicks off the side of the building to fly to the next. Things aren't remotely resolved for Jess, and the guilt wears on her more than she'd care to admit. "I think I make more of a difference as me then I ever did as… well, her. Not that I did nothing. Just now I get to be me. All the time. And sometimes I even get paid for it. The whole warehouse thing stopped a drug trade. Honestly. Big deals sometimes."
*
"I can kind of see where you're coming from," Spider-Man keeps a low trajectory since it's clear from her body language she's wanting to keep a bit of a low profile. But then again this last leg across the city doesn't take a huge amount of time. Especially when one travels at such a pace as the two of them. It's in between a twisting turning floating moment in the air where he is able to say to her, "Like… see. I sometimes think, one sec."
/THWIP!/
He continues through the swing, dropping off it at the last moment to slide down the side of an angled skyscraper's window, one hand guiding him as he turns his hips at an angle, then leaping off the end of it. He whirls around a flag pole, drops off into another leap and then eventually lands upon the top edge of a billboard, holding there for a moment as he turns his head to the side as if 'listening' to the city.
But then when she catches up to him he murmurs. "Is this the best way to spend my time if I want to do good?"
Perched there with his knees bent and his elbows resting upon them, he looks like a red and blue gargoyle overlooking its domain. "Like if I took off the tights and say worked in a lab or something. Maybe I'd invent something… you know?"
A small shrug, "I actually did sort of quit there for a time. Some bad stuff went down and I felt pretty… terrible. So I gave it all up." He looks back at her sidelong, "But then I realized when I saw things in front of me, like that I could do something about… I couldn't really stop myself. So now." He waves a hand and the smile is heard in his voice, "This is my typical night out."
*
It doesn't take Jessica long to catch up. She continues in her flight and lands on the edge of the billboard, looking down. Her black leather jacket and black pants aren't exactly inconspicuous, but then no one is looking for anyone up along the skyline this time of the day.
"It wasn't like that when I — " Jessica's eyes clamp shut and she pinches the bridge of her nose. "Look. I did what had to be done. I'm no hero," the palm of her hand presses against her forehead. "It was bad, and I couldn't… " she shakes her head. "It's a moot point. I fixed it." Her lips twist to the side. "Took up the pI gig shortly after. I'm good at finding people. Always have been." She shrugs at that. "So my typical night out involves staking out cheating wives and taking salacious photos. It pays the bills. Sometimes."
*
"If you like it, then hey more power to you." Spider-Man maintains that perch, scanning the area casually as his eyelets shift a bit a darker shade. But then he rocks back on his heels and looks askance towards Jessica. "I've just never met someone who left this sort of life. Then again now that I think about it… there has to be more people who have. One way or another."
With that said he rubs at the back of his neck thoughtfully before he tells her, "Wait, you're not a telepath are you? Because that would seriously suck."
*
Jessica turns her head to study Spider-Man a minute. "Well if your secret isn't in the morning papers, you'll know whether I'm friend or foe." Amusement colours her expression. Her arms draw across her body in a small hug and she inhales a long breath. Swallowing hard she notes, "…I'm not a telepath." As if that's somehow strangely important to know.
She chews her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I actually… left all of this because of a telepath." She blinks owlishly as she stares at the horizon. "He's dead now."
Jessicaaaah
She hums. "But I still hear him."
*
For a time he looks at her, saying nothing for once. But then he turns away and answers her quietly with that slightly muffled voice of his, "I've met a few telepaths in the past…" He lets that hang out there for a time, and it might be only at the moment when she might have expected that as being all he'll say about the subject, only for him to add a touch more. "Both of them were… polite. They seemed nice. Decent people as far as I could tell. Not that super judge of character is one of my super powers."
He rubs again at the back of his neck and for once isn't climbing or crawling or moving. As if the topic and her seriousness has served to make him somewhat dour. "But it sort of weirded me out. Like if they decided not to be ethical, what is there you can do? Just sort of made me think it was like somebody smiling while they held a loaded gun. But that isn't like… a fair thing to think about someone. Fear speaking, and all."
*
Consideration of Spider-Man's thoughts has Jessica silence for some moments. Her eyes gaze at the horizon and consider the potential for, and of, a new day. Her lips remain in their even position, a kind of cool moment that grows between them. She inhales a long breath and then looks towards Spider-Man. "When I came out of it, when I'd realized what he'd done to me and made me do… I snapped his neck." It's the third time she's ever spoken it out loud. "So he'd never do it to anyone else."
She swallows hard, and her head turns back out towards the horizon. "Being a stone's thrown from all-encompassing power wears on people. Maybe." She shrugs. "They say talking helps. Which is unfortunate. Two things I hate are talking nd running. Both seem pointless."
*
"Well, if someone is chasing you…" Spider-Man offers the rejoinder with a ghost of a smile that's unseen, but he turns to the side and sort of looks at her.
There are different types of people in the world, countless many. But there's one of them that sort of changes the world view for a person if they just happen to fall into that category. Like for someone like Peter, a tragic nice guy, a decent friend, and to some (perish the thought) a role-model, he sort of lives in a world where people feel he's alright to talk to. He's just a decent fellow and he has that kind of face and manner. So he's used to such things, and because of that he also has experience in realizing when someone… really does want to talk despite mitigating factors.
Sure he's a stranger. Perhaps. And sure they barely know each other, but in some ways that makes it safer doesn't it? The anonymity, the separation of their worlds… it makes him safe in some ways. So he recognizes this, and what is more he recognizes the sincerity and severity of the moment.
One leg rests upon the edge of that billboard, the other is drawn up and he rests his hands upon the knee as he looks towards her. "But what I mean is, they're not pointless. Always. You know? I feel like sometimes you have to give voice to the hard things you've seen or faced, the fears that are there, of what's happened… or what might have happened."
A pause, then he adds quietly. "I'm pretty good at reading people." Sometimes. "And from what I know of you, Ms. Jones… is that if you were moved to that point. Then…" He takes a breath, and all he can remember is that freshman in high school that he knew, that poor kid to have that accident and all the craziness afterwards. And then this.
"Then, I mean. I'm so sorry about what must have happened to drive you to that point. You know?" And if she were one to observe the human condition to such an extent she might observe the subtle micro-gesture, the impulse in his mind to reach out towards her. Oh he doesn't, for there are still things between them. But for a bare instant his brain sends that signal and his hand gently lifts a bit, but then he draws it back as if it were an errant thing.
*
Spider-man's thoughts earn a long stare — the kind undecided or perhaps judging something not quite certain or convinced of things both known and unknown. Jessica's figures knit together neatly on her lap ad her eyes scan the world in front of her. There's a weight to her gaze; an odd combination of unsettled and considered.
"And what you know is Little, Spider-man. Also, don't call me Ms. Jones. Just Jones. Or Jess. Anything else seems weirdly formal. And uncalled for." She rubs the back of her neck and stares at the dark overhead.
After a few beats she emits a long breath, the kind that a person doesn't realize their holding until they absolutely need to breathe again. "It was a case. I was tasked to help find someone, not even a PI and the world saw fit for me to find people." She shrugs. "Missing person seemed like a wise thing. But when we found her, she was all wrong and bending to the whim of this purple creep. Like legit purple. Skin, hair, everything." She shrugs. "I got her out of there the only way I knew how. It was only when I let my guard down at home when he found both me and the missing person that things went awry."
Another long breath finally has her gaze tearing away from the sky to Spider-man. "Whatever he said, we did. Without question. We wanted to please him. And believe me, it wasn't just us. It was everyone. Everyone spent energy attempting to do whatever he wanted."
Her chin drops to her chest and she rubs at one of her hands as if trying to scrub off some unseen filth. "And he knew what I could do. Got a taste of it when I was rescuing the missing person," who oddly still doesn't have a name. Likely for good reason. "I very quickly became his personal heavy." She shrugs. "It wasn't until he had me murder her that he lost his hold over me. Clearly it's something I should've been able to do before because I always had that strength somewhere." She swallows hard and looks down towards the ground.
"I need a drink. I'm way too sober for this."%
*
As she speaks, Spider-Man listens. Some people would probably not believe he'd be able to go so long without speaking unless he was asleep and maybe not even then. But he manages, watching her with his head tilted to the side and offering so little feedback what with that mask blocking his features, his eyes, no window to the soul for now. Just her own reflection cast back upon her.
It's only when she winds down with her words that he brings his thoughts back around to responding, to trying to come up with something suitable after hearing something like that. Mirroring her unconsciously, he lifts a bewebbed and gloved hand to rub at the back of his neck and then says quietly, "That sounds… terrifying. Horrible. Something like that would shake anyone."
There's a few moments of silence as nothing's offered between them, then it's broken as Spider-Man adds levelly. "And it'd probably make anyone doubt themselves and what they could have done."
*
Jessica's lips purse and she inhales a long breath. "It's hard to get someone like that out of your head," it's a simple thought that doesn't disagree with any of Spider-Man's thoughts, but doesn't exactly support them either. She finally shrugs. "I left the whole hero gig because it's ever-clearer that I'm not one." She swallows hard and hums quietly to herself.
ANd then, as if to allay any remote feelings of sympathy, she adds, "The grass is greener on the other side. I get to make money instead of rescuing thankless people who hate me," she issues him a rather pointed look as if to suggest he's the one with the tragic life, at the moment, anyways.
*
"You might be right," Spider-Man then quickly adds, "I mean about the grass being greener. Since really, who would really voluntarily subject themselves to this stuff, right?" He rolls to his feet smoothly, but doesn't step away, nor drop off the side of the billboard. Instead he walks a few paces off with his hands resting on his hips. His feet step one foot in front of the other, like a tight rope walker navigating the latest bit of twine separating him from the abyss.
But then he turns around and gestures with one hand in her direction. "You know I started this whole hero thing a few years ago, right?" He crouches again, but this time a bit more distant from her. "When I first started it was kinda… well I was one of the first crazies. I think. Kind of. Or at least it seemed that way to me."
He balances on his two feet on that thin strip of aluminum that delineates the top-most portion of the big image that apparently is advertising some kind of coffee, complete with over-sized cup and stirrer. "At first it was just muggers, and burglars and things. Seemed like for a while. Then I ran into this one guy who was…" His hand comes up as if he were grasping for a word, failing.
"Well, he was just a real piece of work. Had it out for me. Did a lot of terrible things. Naturally I tried to handle it. Figured I could just… I don't know. Maybe I was still a bit drunk with just… being me."
Spidey again brushes those words aside. "But he really had my number. Found people close to me. Found who I cared for and then proceeded to throw her off of a bridge." He frowns for a moment in reflection, in the way a person does so after they say something that they're not sure if they should have or if they should have phrased it so blithely.
"I was there, right there. I'd done it before, saved someone falling. Even then I'd done it…" He spreads his hands, "I was too far. I had to make this shallow dive late. Couldn't catch up, she'd already reached terminal velocity. I had this brilliant idea to try and catch her with the webbing. I did, but she was going too fast. The snap of the web…"
He shakes his head, pushing his fingers into the lens of his mask, pressing the curve of the eyelets into the flesh between his eyes as he seems suddenly very tired. "She died. And on some level I know I didn't kill her. It was the Goblin's fault. But really I /know/ that. But I also know… I killed her." He spreads his hands helplessly again as he looks back, shaking his head now. "So on some level… I don't care about what people say about me. I don't care what the Bugle publishes. Because on some level I think I think they're right. That I deserve it for what I did. Or failed to do." A breath, a pause, thoughts. "So really. I think I sort of understand what you mean."
*
Pensively Jessica just listens, staring at the spot on the ground as if it's become ever more interesting. Her jaw tightens and she levels her gaze back on Spider-man. There's a few beats where she considers something, allowing the silence to grow between them as she does. Finally, she clears her throat, "Jameson really hates you." There's a pause. "I saved his niece recently — she was in on that nonsense with the whole warehouse cult thing." Her teeth play at her bottom lip and then she smirks, "Think that it burned him up that I gave you any credit."
She inhales another sharp breath. "You couldn't have helped your friend. You tried." There's a pause. "I evidently could've kicked Kilgrave out of my mind. I just needed the strength to do it." There's another pause. "Evidently my will wasn't strong enough. It is now." She pats down her pockets and finds a pack of cigarettes. But she doesn't take one out yet.
Instead she sits there, holding onto the box. After a couple beats, and the realization she's being odd, she offers, "Cigarette?" One is plucked from the box and pursed between her lips before being lit.
*
"I've gone over and over that night and tried on a million different what/ifs," Spider-Man rests his hands on his hips and looks at the toe of his shoe for a moment, then shakes his head, "Tons of things that maybe I could have done maybe. But I think the point I'm trying to make…" She can perhaps hear the ruefulness in his voice that might come along with such a small smile, "Is that we both went back to trying to help people, in maybe different ways. But still. Each time I'm out there… I'm doing it because I know that it's in my power to hopefully save another family from having to come home to a cop on their doorstep…"
But then he rubs both hands along the line of his brow as if a headache were about to settle in. At the offer of a smoke he looks up and seems to ponder if for a moment, but then shakes his head. "Nah. Thanks. Hard to hold a cigarette in place with my mandibles."
*
"I do it for the money," so says the woman who frequently forgets to negotiate the price of her efforts. Jessica takes a long puff on her cigarette. "You do it for the glory," her lips quirk into a very teasing half smirk. "The papers love the Spider-man." Obviously. She rubs the back of her neck again and then returns her cigarette to her pocket.
"I really need a drink," she finally admits. "I'm heading down. Appreciate the chat, and… whatever," because camaraderie isn't something Jessica Jones exercises, "but life calls. Loudly." Her eyebrows lift expectantly. "So. Instead, I will drink. A lot." It's been months, and she can virtually taste the whiskey on her tongue.
*
"Well yeah, of course. And the chicks." But, to be fair, Spider-Man remains there where he is, his gaze distanced indiscernibly as his thoughts remain on the past.
"Sure thing, seeya." Peter crouches there for a time as she makes her floating departure back down to the street level. Taking a risk on her having super hearing, he murmurs quietly to himself, "Take care of yourself, Coma Girl."