Jessica Jones put down the milk carton, which had a smudge of her dark lipstick on it.
She casually wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a gesture of uninhibited roughness.
The lingering effects of the hangover were still present.
But the haziness in her sharp eyes was slowly fading.
It was replaced by scrutiny and wariness.
William felt a little unnerved by her gaze, but he maintained his 'harmless' professional smile.
Inside, however, his heart was pounding: "Oh, Ms. Jones, please just give me a straight answer. My poor heart can't take all this scanning."
Finally, Jessica spoke, her voice hoarse, with the fatigue of a hangover, and a hint of something barely perceptible... perfunctoriness?
"I happened to be drinking nearby."
She was concise.
William's eyebrow twitched slightly, and alarm bells went off in his mind.
"Nearby?"
The neighborhood where his dilapidated apartment building was located, aside from Uncle Rajesh's corner grocery store that also sold cheap liquor, and a small, unsanitary, mixed-crowd bar a few blocks away, could hardly be considered a "drinking paradise."
A place where a tough character like Jessica Jones would "happen" to pass by and get drunk was probably not a legitimate bar.
"I drank a bit too much."
Jessica added, her gaze drifting for a moment, as if she didn't want to recall the details of last night, or didn't want him to know the details.
"And then?"
William asked cautiously, like he was unwrapping a package that might explode.
Jessica rubbed her Sun, as if the action could help her clear her muddled thoughts. "
Then, I remembered you seemed to live nearby."
William's smile almost slipped.
"Remembered me?"
"Live nearby?"
The barrage of complaints in his mind instantly flooded his thoughts:
"Big sister!"
"How many times have we even met?"
"At most, only two formal interactions!"
"Is your memory comparable to military-grade GPS?"
"Even that drunk, you could accurately locate my little rundown shack in this forgotten corner?"
"'Seemed'?"
"Your 'seemed' is a bit too precise, isn't it?"
"Is my address some popular check-in spot in the drunkard community?"
"Jessica Jones recommends, temporary shelter for drunkards, five-star rating?"
"And how did you 'remember'?"
"Did your brain randomly play your contact list when you were drinking, and my name just happened to be tagged with 'dumb and rich (not really), address: XXX, suitable for faking an accident after getting drunk'?"
He forcefully suppressed the urge to twitch his mouth, trying to maintain the professionalism (and survival instinct) expected of a qualified insurance salesperson.
Jessica seemed not to notice the turmoil within him, or if she did, she didn't care.
She continued in a tone that implied, "It's that simple, don't ask too many questions": "So, I just came over to stay for a night."
"'Just came over'?" William repeated the phrase in his mind, feeling his worldview had been shaken by a tiny bit.
"You call your state last night 'just came over'?"
"That was performance art, the Earth Mother's passionate call, the perfect embodiment of gravitational acceleration!"
"I almost thought you were going to carve 'I was here' on my door and then ascend to heaven on the spot!"
"And 'stay'?"
"Was that 'staying'?"
"That was 'strategic occupation'!"
"My poor door endured weight and pressure it shouldn't have at its age last night."
"I seriously suspect it was considering early retirement and going to Florida to Sunbathe when it saw the Sun this morning."
William took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the torrent of complaints in his mind.
He knew that arguing about the definition of "just came over" with a woman who was still hungover and possessed the ability to demolish things with her bare hands was definitely not a wise move.
He forced out an understanding expression: "So that's it. Ms. Jones, you really... think highly of my humble abode."
He paused, then tentatively asked, "So, last night... were you working on a case nearby? Did you run into any trouble?"
This was what he truly wanted to know.
A private investigator like Jessica Jones wouldn't get drunk to the point of being a mess for no reason.
Her appearance at his doorstep was inherently unusual.
If he could glean some information, he might discover new "business opportunities."
After all, the more trouble there was, the greater the need for insurance.
Jessica glanced at him, her eyes carrying a hint of "is it any of your business?" but she still vaguely responded: "Hmm, a little trouble, already resolved."
"Good that it's resolved, good that it's resolved."
William nodded repeatedly, wisely not pressing further.
He could tell that Jessica didn't want to talk much about last night.
Moreover, from her tired but uninjured appearance, the so-called "little trouble" was most likely "resolved" by her through physical means.
Jessica finished her last bite of toast, pushed the plate forward, signaling the end of her late breakfast.
She surveyed William's rather spartan apartment, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Thanks for the breakfast."
Her tone was still devoid of warmth, but at least it was better than her "keep away" demeanor when she first woke up.
"You're welcome, it's nothing."
William quickly waved his hand, "It's my honor to serve a valued client like Ms. Jones."
He was about to steer the conversation towards "business."
Jessica, however, seemed not to hear his compliment, and stood up directly.
She stretched her stiff neck and shoulders, emitting a few soft clicks of bone friction.
The hangover still left her face a bit pale, but the powerful aura belonging to Jessica Jones was slowly returning.
"I should go."
She said, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
"Oh, okay."
William nodded, thinking, "She's leaving already? No more chatting about life, discussing ideals, and perhaps exploring the feasibility of purchasing a 'Superhero Custom All-Inclusive Insurance'?"
He watched Jessica walk towards the door, her back still carrying a sense of desolation and aloofness.
At the door, Jessica's hand had just touched the doorknob when she suddenly stopped.
She turned around, her sharp eyes locking onto William again.
William's heart skipped a beat: "No way?"
"Did she remember that I might have accidentally taken advantage of her when I 'carried' her last night, and now she's going to settle scores?"
"I swear, my mind was completely focused on my old back and that crumbling door at the time, absolutely no romantic thoughts!"
Jessica stared at him for a few seconds, making William's back start to sweat, before she slowly spoke: "You... picked up my keys yesterday?"
William was startled, then quickly reacted, nodding rapidly: "Ah, yes. I saw them fall next to you, so I picked them up."
He pointed to the old wooden box in front of the sofa that served as a coffee table, "I put them there."
Jessica walked to the wooden box and picked up the set of keys.
The metal tag with "Alias Investigations" on the keychain glinted coldly in the morning light.
She checked them; all the keys were there.
She put the keys into her jacket pocket, then looked at William again, her eyes a bit more complex.
It was no longer just scrutiny and wariness; it seemed to contain a hint of... an indescribable emotion.
"Thanks."
She said it again, this time her tone was slightly more sincere than the earlier "Thanks for the breakfast."
"It's nothing, Ms. Jones, please don't mention it."
William smiled, but muttered to himself: "Just a 'thanks' and that's it?"
"She's a potential big client, after all, shouldn't she show some appreciation?"
"Like, 'Young man, I see you have an extraordinary physique, a once-in-a-million insurance genius. I have a big deal here, would you like to know more?' or something similar?"
Jessica didn't say anything more, just gave him a deep look, then pulled open the door and walked out.
As the door closed with a "bang," William let out a long sigh of relief, feeling his taut nerves finally relax.
He walked to the window, watching Jessica Jones's tall and solitary figure disappear around the street corner.
"Finally, I've seen her off."
He muttered to himself, then looked down at his apartment, which seemed even messier due to Jessica's "visit," and the slightly deformed cushion on the sofa.
"But how did she know I lived here anyway?" William rubbed his chin, the question still bothering him.
He didn't believe a word of Jessica's story about "happening to be drinking nearby and happening to remember me."
A top-tier private investigator, if she lacked even that much counter-surveillance and information security awareness, she would have long since capsized in some gutter.
"Could it be... she's been secretly investigating me?"
The thought sent a shiver down William's spine.
Being targeted by a superhuman of Jessica Jones's caliber was not a good thing.
What was there for her to investigate about him, a plain old insurance salesperson (besides having a system)?
"No, no," he quickly shook his head again, "If she really wanted to investigate me, she wouldn't have gotten drunk and collapsed at my doorstep last night, looking so vulnerable (though no one would dare to harm her)."
He walked to the sofa, looking at the spot where Jessica had just sat, and the half-eaten breakfast she had left on the coffee table.
"Perhaps... she really just drank too much and treated my place as a temporary haven?"
William tried to convince himself with a slightly more reasonable explanation.
"Forget it, why think so much?"
He patted his head, "As long as she doesn't show up at my doorstep in the middle of the night to perform performance art again, I'll be thankful."
He began to clean up, taking the plates and cups to the kitchen sink.
Looking at the half-empty milk carton and the banana, William thought of his bleeding wallet again.
"For potential long-term clients, for future policy performance, for more claim points..."
He started to give himself a pep talk again.