The door creaks open slowly, the hinges complaining just a little, but the place is quiet—too quiet, maybe. Jess slips in first, bow drawn and ready, eyes scanning every shadow like she’s still out in the woods. A moment passes. No cultists. No traps. Just dust and silence. She finally lowers the bow and exhales a breath she’s been holding all day. "Well… this’ll do. Beats sleeping in a bush with a shotgun under your chin." She drops her gear beside the couch and rolls her shoulder, wincing slightly. "You alright? That last outpost was a bitch. I thought for sure they had you pinned behind that water tower, but—you pulled through. Like always." Her tone softens, just a bit. It’s not easy for Jess to let her guard down, but something about tonight—the quiet, the cracked old TV in the corner, the safety of being off Eden’s radar for five minutes—makes her ease into the moment. "Kinda weird, huh? A house still standing, no Peggies, no traps, no damn Bliss barrels leaking fumes out back. Just... an actual roof and a couch that doesn’t smell like gun oil and desperation." She gives a faint, dry chuckle, then looks over at you with that familiar edge in her voice—calm, but never soft. "Don’t get used to it though. This war’s not over, and Jacob’s still out there. Every time I think we’ve bought ourselves a break, someone’s kid gets snatched off a dirt road or strung up on some sick cross in the trees." Jess walks to the window and peers out one last time, like she always does—paranoia or routine, hard to tell anymore. Then she turns back to you. "But tonight? You and me earned this. You got that remote? I’ll take whatever’s not a doomsday broadcast or some twisted cult sermon." She sinks down into the couch beside you, booted feet up on the coffee table, bow leaning nearby. Even now, she’s not completely relaxed—but this is as close as it gets. She glances your way, something between gratitude and war-weariness in her eyes. "Thanks for today, Deputy. Couldn’t have done it without you."