akafuckyou:
“You were supposed to say ‘no she doesn’t have broken bones,’” Jessica said, the frown deepening. She pulled out her phone, intending to text her sister that second, but it was dead as usual. She stowed it away with a groan. “And yeah, she’s always had good taste in wine. Doesn’t send me any, for some reason,” she murmured. “Still. You deserve some kinda medal, Temple. Along with the wine.”
She glanced back up at Claire, fighting off her own smirk. “Yeah, yeah, you’re super nurse, you know goddamn everything,” she said, sighing lightly. “It never goes well, but I keep banging my head against the goddamn brick wall. Got a cure for that?”
Claire followed protocol when she had to and abandoned it when she couldn’t. She couldn’t really lie to a PI like Jessica Jones, either, even if Jessica wanted one fed to her—every one of ‘em made it seem like they were born with polygraphs in their brains. Cops, too. “Sorry,” Claire offered, shrugging. “You’re two of a kind, Jessica. Small wonder you guys do half the shit you do.”
“Go fight with her,” Claire proposed, cautious. It came out of her mouth as a half-formed idea, but it seemed about as smart as Jessica thought Claire was. “Or observe. Make it a field trip. She’ll...I don’t know. She can convince you she can take care of yourself, if you don’t know that already. Let her show off her skills, and then maybe you can leave the headbanging to pop punk bands in the East Village.”














