fear;

[ This isn't exactly the vacation from bullshit Jessica had in mind, but what the hell is she going to do about it? She can hear something, crawling along the walls, and she should be...something. Afraid. She's trying to be cautious, and once she gets inside, she pushes the door closed and stares through the window. She only gets glimpses of whatever it is in the shadows, but it's enough.

And that's when she hears the scream. She's not going back out there. Whoever's stupid enough to be out, that's on them. She's not going. There's another scream. ]

Goddammit.

[ She's going back outside, looking for the idiot out there. ]

sorrow;

[ Her worst possible future is something she's already lived. Kilgrave. Over and over again. For a while, she looks at the image, stares at all the people she's ever given a single shit about lying dead around Kilgrave's feet with Jessica standing at the center. She's never going to let herself forget what happened or what could have happened. Apparently, her worst possible future is never escaping him.

Propping the mirror against the wall where she found it, she watches a minute longer before putting her fist through the glass. She keeps hitting it, over and over again until her hands bleed, and then she simply steps back, jaw clenched as she stares at the broken pieces that only reflect her face now. Movement in her peripheral vision makes her look up, scowling. ]

What?

love;

[ What Jessica loves is booze, so let her tell you about that while she drinks straight from a bottle of bourbon. It's even encased in the classic brown paper bag look. As she takes a sip she looks right at someone, swallowing and then offering the alcohol. ]

You should try it. The cheaper the better.

[ She shrugs. ]

Well, that's wildly untrue. But you do get the same amount of drunk. Bourbon's good for that.