“If ye didn’t care about anyone or anything, ye wouldn’t be doin’ this.” Theresa gestured around her as she took in the small office. It was similar to the one’s in X-Factor’s building, and with a lot of the same noir aesthetics. She sighed. This woman was probably more stubborn than her, and that was saying much. “This playin’ detective gig isn’t for money. It’s just a charade and a wall to keep up your tough girl persona. Ye can do real good with your abilities, Ms. Jones.”
“ you’re wrong. “
deadpan expression, words dry & rough as nails. tattered blinds &
scattered, emptied bottles of liquor give away just about anything
a person needs to know about jessica jones. it also reveals how
unexpected this sudden visit was – not even a moment
allowed for her to clean up after a late night binge.
faded floorboards noisily creak beneath the heavy footfalls of a
strikingly petite woman. dictating herself with such contrasting
heft like that tends to catch people off guard, but not this one.
“ you don’t know me. even if you think you do. “
shoulders are hiked up in hostility. full lips are pressed into a neutral
line. unimpressed & predictably stubborn, she unabashedly shoots
down any ideas before they’re even presented. “ i’ve been good at
this for as long as i can remember. so i do what’s familiar & what
makes me a living. even if it’s taking pictures of some
douchebag boning a hooker & paying her in singles. “