Jake's never been good with emotions. He supposed it came from multiple factors of his life, stemming from the familial issues he endured as a child. He's never been willing to open up. It was easier to close it off, shove to the back of his brain, and if asked about it make a joke and try to move on.

He had been kind of down lately. In a massive slump with his cases, harboring far too many sleepless nights and coffee filled days. He wasn't sure why, hadn't wanted to put thought into it.

Jake was trying his best to cover it up; half-assed smiles and lame jokes at work. He was sure it wasn't working well, but he kept on with his plan, because that was the Peralta way. Feelings were fickle and icky. He didn't like icky things.

He'd been invited over to your place to work on a case together - he had a vague idea why but had no intention of bringing it up with you (though you'd obviously noticed his little mood this past week).

Jake's sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the couch, his jaw tense as he stared at the case file without actually seeing it. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, he jolted.

"Ah, uh- nothing. What? I'm not thinking about anything," he yelped quickly, hastily fixing an empty grin onto his face.