Head tilts, blinks, blinks, blinks, BLINKS. She’s a bit tense, shoulders rolled and coiled and tight tight tight. She flinches as Ripley touches a rag the bleeding cut on her forehead, flinches but doesn’t wince. Just a slight recoil at the sudden movement. Blinks. Presses her face to the pillow. Cheek to the pillow. Whatever.
She feels concussed, maybe. Maybe? Her head hurts – the world keeps swimming as she lays out on the bed. She didn’t mean to get into a bar fight – she didn’t mean to break some guy’s nose because he got a bit too aggressive towards them. ( Does she feel guilty over it? No of course not. She’s more guilty for making Ripley have to drag her home. ) Sure – Ripley absolutely can handle her own but Jessica is more ‘punch first and never ask questions later’ with that kind of stuff.
She certainly didn’t mean to get clocked in the face back. She might be durable but she’s not INVINCIBLE. Sometimes she forgets what she can and can’t take. There’s a cut on her forehead and a bruise forming around it. Nice.
“I dunno which option I’d prefer. Right now.” Slow speaking. She has to concentrate a lot to make it come out easy and at least somewhat able to be heard. “Think – first one. Don’t wanna die. Don’t like the sound of dying.”
“S’rry. Don’t tell Trish ‘bout this.”
( Because Jessica knows she won’t hear the end of it if Ripley tells Trish. )