❛ Yeah, I realize that, ❜ he more or less echoes after her, pursing his lips.
Thinking back on it, maybe it was kind of dumb to give her a hard time about phone calls, but still. As long as he’s involved, he’s going to ask a lot of questions. His daughter’s life is on the line, damn it. He’s entitled to shower her in inquiries whenever he sees something that looks like what may or may not be a red flag. If she isn’t taking this case seriously (not that she isn’t, but – again – just in case), he has to right to know that much.
The blatant disrespect in her tone isn’t the thing that bothers him; it’s how damn CRYPTIC she can be. It drives him up the wall for two reasons: one, sometimes she’s too vague and it’s hard to get details from her regarding the case and two, he legitimately wants to know more about her. Probably on a personal level. Which is definitely a problem because work and personal lives aren’t supposed to clash, but whatever. Maybe he just cares about people a little more than they care about him. Maybe the fact that someone cares is a foreign concept to her. Maybe she’s used to not having to explain herself to anyone.
Maybe he’s just thinking too hard about this and reading too much into it.
❛ — You disappear into the store to buy booze and tell me to ‘wait outside’ after dodging a call? Yeah, I’d say I do deserve an explanation. I mean seriously – shady much? And another thing? It’s a damn liquor store, Jess. Not a mafia hideout or whatever. ❜ Or maybe it is – you can never tell in New York. Point is, she’s keeping him in the dark about things and he doesn’t like it. He just wants that to be known.
❛ Are you afraid to be seen with an ex-con in public or something? ❜
turns out little scotty is looking to get beamed up into some kind of film noir. asking all the right questions, but at all the wrong times. normally, she might be willing to commend his inquisitive behavior. at the present, though, she only views it as a hindrance. an unnecessary inquisition into matters completely unrelated to him, or their investigation into the disappearance of hank pym.
“ jesus christ, scott. “
she calls over her should, placing the glass flask of liquor on the counter. “ i’m the private investigator here, just in case you forgot. “ reassurance by means of petulant rage. the cashier’s eyes shoot from jessica to scott, a minute detail that the former catches & openly abhors. “ goddamn it … “ comes a quiet hiss of self-loathing, fingers plucking two tens from her wallet. “ i don’t give a shit that you’re an ex-con. alright? “ neglecting to take the change, she snatches up the bottle of alcohol & begins replenishing the flask, exiting the establishment. “ do you think i’m proud of having this goddamn crutch? “ she asks, holding up the metal container once she’s emptied the liquor into it. “ do you really think i want you seeing that? “