Jennifer is watching Erin have a mental break down, and it is honestly starting to scare her. If she were a meaner, more apathetic person, she would probably have just sat back and enjoyed it, but instead she sat on the edge of her seat, watching the trainwreck with increasing concern.
This was out of character for Erin, so incredibly out of character, and her mind was racing trying to reconcile the changes. “Thank you,” she manages as the other woman compliments her shoes, only to seconds later be pelted with sloppy pickles. She sighs and wipes the pickles off, trying hard not to let this get to her. It’s like watching a child have a melt down, if you sink to their level it’ll only get worse.
She crosses to the sink in their kitchen and cleans off her blouse, letting out a huff of frustration at the sight of the wet spot before crossing her arms and returning to stand beside Erin, starting to wonder if she’ll eventually just pass out. Not that would be much better since then she’ll have to make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.
If only the Ghostbusters weren’t all out on a call, then she could go home, take her shoes off, take a bath and have a glass of wine. But they were, so she couldn’t. It takes her a moment to register what she must be talking about and sighs. “It’s not a problem, Erin.”
She realizes seconds later that she’s crying and reaches for a stool, pulling it up beside her and neatly interlocking her fingers on the table. “May I ask what brought all this on?” she sighs and straightens her spine as if to relieve pressure in it before leaning down to make eye contact with her. “I, myself, have gone on many a drinking binge that has ended something like this, so believe me there is no judgement happening here.”
She tucks her hands under her chin and leans over completely. “You can talk to me. I probably have the least emotional investment in you of anybody you know, so I can be as objective as you need me to be. And I’m a good listener. It’s practically what I do for a living.”