Although there was some parts of the conversation where the doctor's eyes couldn't meet hers, Jones kept her gaze upon her. The mixture of anticipation and fascination dawdle in the air. All those times she sat or laid with her foster mother, Ms. Grecia, in bed. Relaxing on those usual late nights, on Saturdays, watching either Friends or Dateline mystery hour. Sometimes she would fall asleep to it, similar to white noise, or she would stay up watching it. In horror, sympathetic towards the victim's family, or questioning it with 89% of the time being kidnap and murder cases. Most of them were women or young girls. Even at this point, it was still hard to imagine the reality she was in. Kidnapped. In America, about 86% of the time, if someone is taken and kidnapped by car, it's most likely that victim won't be seen alive again. Would she be doomed to become that statistic? Would she ever be seen again? What she feared now is never seeing her family again and being killed.<br/><br/>Of course, if that was the case now, there was some tips she picked up from those unsolved mysteries. Such as trying to give an emotional connection to the kidnapper or whoever is in charge. Perhaps the doctor wasn't in charge, it's uncertain for now, but she had some rank in this hell on Earth. The best way to do that was nonverbal connection. It was hard to ignore human eyes. At least according to her psychology class she took back in high school. At this point she showed some form of compassion and was willing to answer personal questions.<br/><br/>Jupiter's shoulders tensed up as she watched the doctor, mentally debating upon what she'll do, and kept an eye on her. She pushed her body against the chair while the doctor gently pushed the wet bandage dressings to her face. "Ouch!" Jones cried in pain and pulled her face away. The burning sensation hit the scale of eight to ten immediately. A few tears let out as she kept her face in the other direction.<br/><br/>She attempted to press her legs together and she breath through her teeth, so she can breath through the pain. Normally, for her body to manage pain, she tighten her body as a gesture. Once she managed to regain some self control she eased down her breathing and tried sitting up again, but felt weaker at this point. "Is..." The words felt cemented to the back of her throat. So she cleared her throat and let her eyes fixed over at the doctor. "...Is there ever a time you did something while working here and you didn't want to do it?"