She turned to him, tucking her hair behind her ear and debating on what to say. Just how much to say, what with all the things that rolled around in her mind when she thought about him. "It's my job to notice things. Or, it was." Moving to stand, she picked up her plate and went to go set it in the kitchen. She was trying to take better care of cleaning up after herself, of leaving less for him to have to deal with in terms of Hurricane Jessica.

Standing there in the kitchen, plate in the sink, she stared down at it and thought about him. About what he'd lost. What he had. What she felt... "And maybe I give a shit about how you feel," she said quietly, though she knew he'd hear it.