<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/0euJdLC.jpg)</div><hr/><strong>Name:</strong>Jessica Jones<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Jessica's apartment / Alias Investigations' office, 485 W 46th Street<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Black tank top, dark skinny jeans, flat heel black boots<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Misty Knight, Open<strong>Mentioned:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Warning:</strong>N/A<br/><hr/><br/>Cocking her head to the side, Jess gave Misty her best<em>are you serious right now?</em>look when questioned about her alcohol stash. Reaching down for her special drawer again, she started pulling more bottles out, planting them on top of the desk one by one until there were five of them lined up like little soldiers. Wonderful throat-burning, short term amnesia-inducing soldiers. "And that's just my too-lazy-to-get-up drawer. Don't insult me."<br/><br/>“Luke is a good man, not to get all in your business or anything, but I know you two will work it out.”<br/><br/>"She said while getting all up in my business..." Jessica mumbled to herself while rolling her eyes for good measure. The whole point of the getting hammered thing was precisely<em>not</em>to think about feelings and past fuck ups, but Misty was trying really hard to murder her buzz. Of course, Jess knew that her overly optimistic friend only had her best interest at heart, so she couldn't get mad at her. What she could do, however, was drink more to compensate, so she got started on that right away. "Great pep talk, thanks."<em>Empty mug, refill, repeat.</em><br/><br/>The tidbit about Misty wanting to get an upgrade for her arm came as a bit of a surprise. For whatever reason, she'd assumed that it would be difficult to replace, but then again she was admittedly not an expert on bionic arms. Anyways, the thing was already pretty damn badass, so she wasn't sure how it would be upgraded even more, but it sounded good to her. She'd just have to remember not to challenge Misty to any arm wrestling competitions.<br/><br/>For a moment, Jess naively believed that she might have dodged the whole mess with the drug runners, only to have her hopes of a quiet evening at home crushed when Misty jumped back into the topic.<br/><br/>"Does this mean you want in Jones?”<br/><br/>"Uhh...no," Jessica answered despondently, knowing full well that she was as good as check-mated already.<br/><br/>“Well….how bout it, you can’t honestly want to spend the rest of the night in that chair.”<br/><br/>"The fuck I can't! And don't talk shit about my chair. It's a fine chair." She made a halfhearted attempt to stand her ground, but she recognized the tone in Misty's voice and the look on her face. Her only choices were to agree, or to have Misty hammer her for an hour about how they should do the right thing and all of that idealistic crap until she ended up caving anyways. They'd already gone through that song and dance plenty of times in the past. "...Fuck my life," Jess grumbled, pushing herself up to her feet and retrieving her jacket from the couch. Then she found a couple of brown paper bags that had been tossed haphazardly, offering one to her friend and wrapping one of the bottles of Jack in the other.<em>For the road.</em><br/><br/>"What kind of name is MS13 anyways? Sounds like some kind of British spy agency or something. Whatever, let's go fuck their shit up. After you," she said, gesturing towards the door.