™ - for my muse to become jealous of the attention your muse is giving someone else
™ - for jessica to become jealous of the attention danny is giving someone(s) else:
Jessica Jones does not get jealous.
She does get petty, though.
She has no right to be, she knows that much. Christ, she’s met the guy one time. Hasn’t known him long enough to warrant feelings like this -- and definitely not long enough to warrant following him around. But some habits stick to her, like shit on a shoe.
So she watches Danny, as he chats with a bombshell redhead, who she vaguely recognizes but can’t place. Has a conversation with goddamn Elektra, who’s always had men wrapped around her finger without even trying. And buys a goddamn piano for pretty, blonde Steph.
That one is probably an overreaction. She’s like 21.
But still.
“Goddammit, Jones,” she berates herself, lowering the camera. This is far too much like Luke, how she watched him all those months, sleeping with woman after woman to fill the void she’d caused. At least she hasn’t punched Danny’s wife in the chest, there’s that much. “Get a goddamn grip on your shit,” she mutters, leaning back on the fire escape.
Her eyes follow him as he walks down the street. Carries himself with that liquid grace, like he expects the world to meld around him. He’s confident and charming enough that it probably will.
She tries to hate that about him. Tries so hard not to care, as she flips through the pictures on the camera. The redhead, Elektra, Steph. The knots in her stomach tighten with each passing face.
That’s always been her greatest weakness.
Occasionally, she gives a damn.
