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Luke gets up early, because he's responsible and because he actually cares about his business. Jessica, of course, treats her business like a hobby and hasn't had regular business hours since…
Okay, she's never had regular business hours.
She's a little bit sore and battered from her extracurriculars with Luke the night before - they didn't exactly get much in the way of repairs done to the bar. She makes her way up and out, pulling on one of Luke's t-shirts on, the length of it reaching almost to her knees as she makes her way to his fridge, only to see Sharon lying there sleeping on the couch. She lights a Camel and nudges the spy with her bare foot, her dark hair tousled and a bit wild. "Hey, Sharon. You want anything to eat? If so…would you mind cookin' it?"
And Sharon is still somewhere on Vietnam time mentally, beat the shit out of physically, and off for a few recovery days if nothing else. Not to mention her bosses *probably* don't know where she's staying right now even if they wanted to bother her. Probably. So, while Luke gets up and out, she remains passed out on the couch. She didn't really bother to get re-dressed, so she's in nothing but that sports bra, rib wrappings, and the little briefs she likes to wear as panties when she's not working. THey're way more comfortable than the lace things most women wear. She had been sleeping fairly deeply, but the moment she's touch, Sharon snaps to with the paranoia of someone who is used to sleeping somewhere people are planning on killing her. She jerks up, but realizes where she is within the split of a heartbeat and still just how much her ribs hurt. She gives a low curse, blinking drowsily at Jessica, "…huh?" Her mind is still catching up to her body.
Jessica Jones drags on her cigarette, "I know, right? Weird waking up in somebody else's apartment. I'd freak out, too, if I wasn't…y'know, kinda fuckin' used to it at this point. Luke's off doing some fucking carpentry or something," she says.
She sits on the arm of the sofa, perching a bit above the other woman, "You need any aspirin or anything? We thought about waking you when we came upstairs, but you were out cold and it seemed like ya needed the sleep," she says. She's added a little whiskey to her coffee, closing her eyes as she takes a sip and lets it hit, "God damn, I hate sunlight."
"…ennh… probably. I can find it. And yeah, dunno… I slept a few hours on the plane." Sharon admits, still in that fuzzy, post-sleep state of her mind realizing she's somewhere safe, so no longer forcing her to wake up and make decisions. Jet lag and broken ribs are miserable, so she's just taking it slow for the few moments of this morning. She turns a glaring sort of wince across her shoulder towards the window, "…Luke doesn't have blinds? We need to get that boy some blinds…" Sharon mutters, like the two of them have already moved in. Or are going to be here fairly often, at least. "…coffee first… you got any of that left for me?"
Jessica Jones pushes up, padding barefoot across the floor and grabbing the pot, "Yup, still got a bit left. Hair of the dog or no?" she says, pouring a cup and bringing over the bottle of Jack in case Sharon wants to add any to her breakfast.
"I've never been on a plane. Never really left New York, actually. Just didn't really see the need," she says. "What's out there that they don't have here?"
"Yes. Please. Then…maybe I can cook us real food. But… this first." Sharon huskily mutters, letting Jessica pour her both coffee and Jack before she takes the black and booze drenched mug, knocking back a good sip of it and only slightly wincing against the taste. Whether she heard Jessica's first question or is just offering about the food, it's not clear, but it seems food is actually on the table.
The question of what is out there makes Sharon half smirk, turning her eyes towards the window beyond, which just brings that morning light wince back, "…lots of dangerous people, if you ask my bosses. But… sometimes it's nice. The jungle can be real pretty when you're alone. And… shit, nothing but miles of snow and mountains? I…I've seen some nice stuff out there."
Jessica Jones slips onto the couch proper, kicking up her bare feet on the table and shrugging, "Plenty of dangerous people here. Nice stuff? I dunno. I don't really do nice. It's against my religion," she says, sipping on her boozy coffee.
"I dunno what he keeps in the pantry. I admit, I don't tend to, uh, eat much here. Or linger around a lot. It's mostly just sleepin' and…not sleepin'."
A slight arch of Sharon's brow at that, and the lanky blonde shifts her body on the couch just enough to curl her legs up. She watches Jessica another few heartbeats.
"Look, I'm pretty fucked in the head, but even I acknowledge that nice has to happen sometimes. If it doesn't…it ain't worth living any more at all. Seriously. THat's the time I want the bullet to finally hit. Right through the head. Gotta have something other than booze to make life worth living."
Jessica Jones might normally shrink away from that kind of closeness - she isn't much for gentle, is Jessica, she doesn't trust it. A certain someone used to be very gentle with her often but it was always a lie, the gentle slither of a snake on her skin that, when she thinks about it, makes that skin want to crawl. But she doesn't think about it, not now, Sharon's not him and not like him.
"I hear ya. No bullets around here, I hope," she says. "We can have nice here, I guess, if it's the right kinda nice," she grins. "And I don't want ya gettin' shot. Seems like you get beat up enough as it is."
Sharon's got the legs of a woman who isn't really trying — not having shaved in months but that means the fine, blonde hair is just a faintly soft down against Jessica's hand, and otherwise she's all wiry muscle and surprising tone. She's a compact little weapon of a body, just with no super powers to save her life when shit really goes down.
"No bullets around here? I suppose that was just damage from the spitoon that we were cleaning up last night." Sharon deadpans, that smile turning back into a smirk as she takes another gulp of her coffee. "…but…nice here… would be good. Something nice to come back to, at least. And it's not always this bad. He was just tougher to handle than I thought he'd be."
"I don't think they got this far. I dunno if they even had guns. I do wish I had been there whenever they messed with him. Not that Luke can't handle himself. But Luke's a good person, prone to have mercy," she says. "I'm not, really."
"…I… am used to following orders. Not sure what I'd do face to face with that but… I suspect I don't have near the patience I once did." She chuckles huskily, "Woe betide to anyone who crosses Luke's avenging women. I would not put much money on their life expectancies."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I would probably take them out back and leave a stain on the wall," she laughs, "I was never good with orders either. I don't like being told what to do. Asked nicely, absolutely, but I don't even let clients boss me around."
"We both should eat." Sharon huskily, lazily explains, but she makes no move to pull away. "…and… should I ask how you ever pay your rent? Or do you get by on sass alone?" Her smirk returns over the top of her coffee cup, but the arch of both her brows and slight concern in her eyes shows it's an honest question.
"I got lucky on my rent, in that I have a landlord for whom I have done a few extra favors and run off protection guys, so she cuts me a bit of slack when I don't have everything it takes month to month. THe electric company isn't so keen on that kind of arrangement, though, so I have a little trouble with the lights now and again. But I like the dark."
A small, still slightly worried sound from Sharon's throat and she gives a little shake of her head. "Ain't my place right now… to ask why you treat yourself like such shit, but… maybe one day. Meanwhile, I guess people that care aboutcha will just do what we can to take care of you. Like make you breakfast." And with that insistance, though the touch on her thigh is quite tempting, Sharon leans over and presses a brief, soft kiss to the corner of Jessica's mouth before she gently moves to take herself off of the couch so she can move for the kitchem.
Jessica Jones smiles at the kiss and sits back on the couch, the open nature of the apartment letting her glimpse the kitchen pretty clearly from her position on the sofa. She takes another sip of her coffee and casually watches Sharon start to cook, "Promise you, I've been treated plenty worse than the way I treat myself," she says. "I like the way I live. It's not for everybody. That's okay," she shrugs. "I've stopped trying to please anybody but me. I can't even do that, most of the time," she says.
Sharon is moving a bit slow, but she's still nice to watch move. All carefully trained, graceful muscles, even just walking is a bit of a prowling dance to her. Especially this tired, letting her body follow it's natural sway. She's a skinny blonde tabby cat who should have been a lioness. She begins to open some cabinets and things in the kitchen, searching for enough stuff to put together some basic eggs. At least Luke has to have that much.
"As long as you like it. I get that happy doesn't always happen. Hell, happy might not even be often. But… content can be a good sometimes and not staring down the barrel of a gun or a bottle constantly… that'd be enough. But then, you don't know me from adam, who am I to say shit…"
Jessica Jones shrugs, "I know you about as well as I know most people. Luke's probably the person I know best and we ain't exactly done a lot of talkin', if you know what I mean," she says. "Seems weird for a private eye, but I guess I'm not that curious. Everybody's got secrets. I'm good at finding them out, but I expect to be paid to do it. The rest of the time, I tend to leave people the fuck alone and ask them to do the same," she says.
"But…I do like you. You don't exactly remind me of me - you're blonde for one and I would look like a fucking leper if I was blonde, with this much pale - but I feel like…you at least get it. You know how the world works."
A pan on the stove and some butter in it, heating up, Sharon pads back towards Jessica's side and leans down just enough to scoop her coffee cup off the table. That leaning motion isn't fun, but she manages it, before looking Jessica up and down for a heartbeat. "…I get that… you're hurt. Deep. Someone fucked you up bad. I… don't think it was work. Something else. You got that scared dog look in your eyes even just touching someone, sometimes, and the only way to turn it off is the booze. But that doesn't even really work any more, does it? So…you keep pulling away because you don't want to be fucked with again but no one can survive alone. Seriously. That… that I get." Sharon breathes out quietly, turning to walk back away so she can crack some eggs. "Every time I wanted to eat my gun it's because I was certain this was it. I was alone. Dead alone. No one else would fucking get it ever… and it wasn't even safe to try and touch someone if I actually meant it because then they are targets. But… I also get that it's no healthy way to live and I MISS touching people but, some days, it'd sure as shit be safer if I ate my gun. So… I don't fucking know. But I get that."
Jessica Jones listens quietly, lighting a fresh cigarette and blowing smoke towards the ceiling before she responds, letting some of the food get cooked before she says anything. "Not that long ago, most anyone talked that straight to me would probably go through the window," she says softly.
"Not wrong. And yeah, I don't wanna talk about it. Nobody would," she says. "I do okay. And I can't eat a gun even, because a gun wouldn't kill me because I'm…not like most people," she admits. "I remember I once tried, with a razor blade, the first week when he left me alone and I…"
"I blunted the razors…"
"Fuck…" Sharon breathes out, stopping looking at the eggs and staring up at Jessica for a few moments over the sizzling of breakfast food and silence of a strangely calm morning otherwise. "…I don't know if I should be relieved you did or jealous you had the courage to try and do what I didn't." The blonde admits, giving the brunette a long look before she gazes back down to the eggs. A single flip, just enough to get the yolk toughened up a bit, and she slides them onto a plate.
Four eggs, all mushed together on a single plate, two pieces of toast. She doesn't bother with fancy place settings or even separate dishes. They can share. She carries the plate over with two forks in her other hand, but she has cooked breakfast for them both. She sets the plate on the table next to where Jessica's feet were. "And you can send me through the window if you need. I've been through worse."
Jessica Jones sits up a bit as the food is presented and then leans over and gives a kiss of her own, this on Sharon's cheek. She smells of the lingering hints of shampoo, having grabbed a shower upon awakening. Luke kept shampoo mostly for visitors, since he didn't have much call for it.
"Nah. I like ya here. No need for the window treatment," she says. "And I did it when I was still…trapped. When I thought it was the only way out," she says. "I'm glad it didn't work, although it took me a long time to be glad. But that's because it took me a long time to find another way," she shrugs.
"Another way? You gonna tell me about it, or let me guess and figure out a name to add to my list sometime down the line?" Sharon asks softly, her voice a bit more gentle for that kiss, and she turns her head to place one in turn to Jessica's temple before she sinks back down into the couch with only the faintest of whimpers. Broken ribs were the worst. But, other than that tiny moment of complaint, Sharon settles comfortably near her and plops an over medium egg on a slice of toast with her fingers. So much for forks. she doesn't eat yet, though. She's still watching Jessica out of the side of her eye
Jessica Jones eats on the food for a moment, before she tries to find the words to explain. "There was a guy. I know, isn't there always? But this guy, he could…make you do things. Anything. Whatever he wanted. Just because you were around him. It was his power," she says. She didn't talk about this, ever, with anybody, but here she was.
"And he…kept me. Because I was different, because I was strong and because I could hurt people and because he…wanted me," she says. "Anyway, I couldn't break free. Until I could. I don't know, still, how I was finally able to do it. Maybe I built up a tolerance. Maybe he slipped. I don't know. But I got loose and I ran and I hid and I…made this life," she says.
She leans back into the couch and curls up against Sharon, trying to be careful of the ribs. "I killed him. But he's still…in my head, y'know?"
Toast is forgot. Eggs are forgot. Before Sharon even takes a bite, she just sets the food down and listens to Jessica, her eyes never straying from the pale brunette as she speaks. The moment Jess shifts closer and dares to curl up against her, Sharon's moving her arm to wrap one around Jessica's shoulders. She pulls her close, closer to upper chest and shoulder than ribs, but close. She says nothing for several long heartbeats, just turning her head to press lips into Jess' hair. Not a kiss. Just close mouth, cheek, the faint breath of her nose. Just presence. Protection.
"…yeah. Anything like that…it gets in your head for a long time. Maybe… ever. I get that. I do…Even if I don't… I haven't ever had shit like that. I won't say I have. But… I get the shit being stuck in your head." SHe whispers into dark hair.
Jessica Jones nods, "So I drink. And I kick the shit out of people. And I work the only job I can do and still take the days I need to sit int he fucking dark sometimes," she says with a slight shrug. "Even when it's shitty, it's better than when I was with him," she says.
"And this is a hell of a lot better," she grins.
"…I'll take better. And hell, maybe next year will be better yet. It's worth carrying on. Just…keeping breathing. Even if you need to sit in the fucking dark sometimes." The tone of Sharon's voice says she understands that too. She has her days like it and a job that doesn't question, even if she's far better at following orders.