The day seemed to happen in flashes: Jess was in a hotel room she'd secured at the Four Seasons. She was downstairs, waiting for the car. She was in the car. Karolina was there. Karolina wasn't there. Greg was there.

…Greg was still there.

Another Roy ne'er do well she'd have to mind. Just add him to the pile.

The call with Logan?

She'd blocked it—only to possibly recover the contents in regression therapy twenty years on.

And then she was forced to listen to Naomi and Kendall because Kendall had hit speaker his phone.

Did he want her to listen?

Did he want Jess to hear him tell Naomi that he loved her?

Did he anticipate Naomi not immediately returning the sentiment, if at all? Jess couldn't tell, but the absence of the equal response made her feel a little good.

Jess heaved a silent, hidden sigh as they entered Rava's palatial abode in the Woolworth Building. Welp, Rava was doing nicely for herself. Jess' stomach turned. Maybe it was where she was, or maybe she was merely hungry?

Jess wondered, offhandedly, when she'd last eaten. Twelve hours ago?

What day was it? What year was it?

Kendall, meanwhile, fed on adrenaline and his own personal, curated, extremely specific spotlight. And Jess performed her duties over the next several hours like some sort of domestic robot, ushering in deliveries, people—whatever it was Kendall had called upon. He was a pretender for the throne in exile for the day, already entertaining courtiers. Was Jess his jester? No, that was Greg. Definitely Greg.

Jess watched silently and felt cringes of electrical currents course through her as he failed to listen to anything Bari Schneider said. She tasted blood as she realized she'd been biting the inside of her lip as she observed his elder millennial shitshow. It was only one o'clock. This would be a long night.

Watching Kendall crash and burn and then burn some more never got less painful. But Jess noticed something striking this time: he didn't seem to notice. Or care.

He didn't care.

The electric cringe was swiftly replaced by a tinge of fear. Jess paused, wondering about the impacts of this. Kendall had always been self-conscious, aware, neurotic.

"We think you're going to win this. We like winners."

"Hell yeah."

But now?

She took a breath, rose from her basecamp, and went into the kitchen. Rava appeared just as Jess had pretended to not search for a water glass.

"How is he?" Rava asked, leaning against the counter by the sink.

"How is—"

"How's he doing?"

"He's…" Jess searched for a diplomatic word. Energized? Invigorated? Frenetic? Chaotic? Insane?

"Yeah…" Rava cut in, nodding her head, resigned, "yeah."

Jess couldn't help but feel that Kendall's ex-wife was commiserating with her.

"Yeah, well," Rava shrugged, "is he-?"

Rava cut herself off. "You know what? I don't want to know."

Jess nodded curtly, clutching her phone in case of any notifications. It seemed to be levitating with them.

"Please—" Rava gestured, "any snacks—drinks—feel free—"

Jess felt like she was the babysitter.

"Oh, no—" she protested.

"-Feel free."

"…Thank you."

Rava just nodded, and then she disappeared upstairs.

Jess kept busy-very busy—keeping track of the emails, the calls, the requests, the solicitations—into that evening. She'd anticipated every meeting, visitor, and delivery, knowing exactly who was coming and who was scheduled. Jess took a moment to marvel in her own planning prowess. In spite of Kendall's chaotic energy, Jess ran a tight ship. And she took a private moment to be proud. Things were going well—as well as could be expected.

But sometime that evening, Naomi Pierce waltzed in with dinner from One White Street. Not on any calendar. No calls, no scheduled plan. Jess had had no warning. And that's really when Jess started to lose track of time.

Of course: Naomi came at the exact time Lisa Arthur and her crew were settling in. Jess laughed to herself for a second as she corralled everyone to their appropriate places, knowing Rava and Naomi were greeting each other for the first time. Jess was glad she wasn't there to make it some weird thrupple.

She couldn't tell if it was 10 pm or 2 am when Greg had opened up the bottle of wine. Maybe it was seven. But Jess, who had sneaked off to take a cat nap in what could only be described as a "third living room," was jolted awake by Rava's shouts. But she knew to hold back, listening all the while, again grateful she wasn't there in the middle of things. Something had happened—with wine?

Sometime later, or maybe a few minutes or a few hours later, Jess found herself seeking another glass of water in the kitchen. The cat nap had not really gone beyond dozing and hearing Kendall's voice in her head.

Rava appeared, looking tired. Done.

"They didn't even drink it," she gestured to the opened bottle on the island.

Jess was silent.

"After all of that," Rava shook her head, as if experiencing Kendall's shenanigans for the first time, "they didn't drink it."

Rava shook her head again, and, with both hands against the sink, lowered her head for a moment. Jess watched as she took a breath—and held it—before exhaling. Rava then went to the cabinet behind her and retrieved a glass.

"You want some?" she asked, offhandedly, it seemed.

"Um—" Jess' reflex was to look back at Kendall, to wonder if she should. "No—"

Rava waited.

"Um—well—" Jess relented, "maybe just—"

"Yeah—I had a feeling."

It was three am or maybe it was eleven when Jess got a call from the doorman, with whom she'd made very good friends. She was fairly certain she'd be invited to Christmas that year at his family home in Bay Ridge. Sal, the doorman, mentioned a large item in the lobby, accompanied by two bemused attendants, for one Kendall Roy.

"Item?" Jess asked, uncertain. Though, at this point, nothing would surprise her.

"Yeah—um—from Stewy—Hos-—"

"Hosseini. Yeah—OK, I'll give him a call."

Jess hung up with Sal and scrolled through the contacts.

"Hey—what did you send Kendall?" She asked.

"Oh heyyyy, Jess. Hey," Stewy purred at her on the other end of the line, "you sure you don't want to come work for me?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Ok, but just for the record, Jess, my feelings are hurt."

"What is your delivery? The doorman—"

"It's—well, you'll see. Have them send it up."

He hung up the phone without letting her respond. She called Sal back down at the front desk and gave him the go ahead.

Jess had always lamented never having actually used her Classics degree during the course of her tenure at Waystar. But now, on this night, she knew exactly what she was looking at in the small hallway that led from the elevator to Rava's front door.

And then she wondered: was Stewy inside the Trojan Horse? Had he been planning this all along? Jess approached the thing, daring to reach out, to knock at it.

It sounded hollow.

Unless he was a wizard—and honestly, sometimes he seemed to be—Stewy would not be able to fit inside of it.

Perhaps it was merely a joke devoid of all meaning and symbolism. Haha.

More moving. Constant moving. Some hiding. Some lurking. Some fun things like planting bait on the second dining table for Shiv.

But now, it was more exhaustion. Jess couldn't remember how long she'd been up—she estimated it was over 24 hours now. Her body had started to shake. She felt hungover—and then remembered she had been out drinking with Kerry just the night before. When had she eaten? Rava had conveniently left some crackers and cheese out.

And the wine. Rava had refilled Jess' glass when she'd gotten the text from Roman. An unexpected bond, it seemed.

The refuge the elevator provided throughout the evening was a welcome respite. The quiet hum, the encased, womb-like feeling. Still, her name in Kendall's voice echoed in her head—and didn't stop.

The doors opened and Roman Roy stood before her.

"Well, well, well. His familiar comes to retrieve me," he commented glibly, swaying a little on his heel. "You seem to physically be in one piece. Is he behaving? I know how tough it is, being a first-time mom."

"Hi, Roman."

He cocked his head, "well, good evening, Ms. Jordan. May I proceed to the funhouse?"

Jess bit her lip from saying you must be this tall to ride. "He's been in meetings—"

Roman narrowed his eyes for a moment.

"—I'll have to check."

"Yeah, you go check, Sisyphus. And I'll wait here—being unsuspecting and totally trusting of all this."

Jess raised an eyebrow at him, unamused, but Roman just shrugged in response.

He wasn't wrong. He very rarely was.

Jess had been corralling Lisa Arthur and her associates in the third living room while Kendall sparred with his siblings, now that she'd retrieved Connor as well. And Jess knew her place: to lurk in the shadows and attend to Kendall's whims. To read his thoughts. Which were getting increasingly erratic.

To be Kendall's page, his cup bearer. His food taster. His room clearer. His call fielder.

Or something.

Jess bid Lisa Arthur and her associates a final good night. It was comforting to know Kendall had retained her—she could provide some much-needed stability. Perhaps it was the time to be hopeful? Excited, even? Jess allowed herself a little moment.

"I need him in my office tomorrow at 8 am."

Jess nodded. "Yep. Got it. I'll talk to him."

Maybe Arthur's firm was hiring?

Another call from Sal. His tone grew steadily higher, Jess noticed, as the night grew on.

"This time it's…doughnuts…?"

"…Doughnuts….?"

"I—"

"Yeah, I'll be right down."

And yes, there were doughnuts. Jess' phone buzzed. A text from Kerry:

"Enjoy. LR said something about possibly lacing them with laxatives, but I did not opt for that when I ordered. Hope you're hanging in there, friend."

And back upstairs she went. Shiv and Roman had absconded to the balconies (of which there were…three?!) while Connor and Kendall remained inside.

It would be, at the 24-hour mark, that Kendall would have usually checked in with Jess. Some sort of variation on "you good?" but this time, there was nothing. Jess watched him from across the room as she'd retrieved the unneeded but obligatory napkins and snack plates and laid them next to the unopened box.

He seemed far away. Or maybe she was.

Jess thought of the Trojan Horse in the hallway, violating fire codes. She thought of the doughnuts she'd devour later when everyone else was gone.

There had been one moment, upon cat nap number two in living room number three, when she'd heard Kendall yell "teat" over and over. Things were starting to fall apart. It was time to get going again.

The next task, Jess assessed, was to grab Kendall for a moment to prep him for the next day, to encourage sleep? Eat, maybe? Spoon feed him? She couldn't even keep track of herself. She noticed the Roy siblings filing out, not peacefully, and saw it as her window. Navigating Kendall's free moments was like threading a needle or transporting uranium.

Roman slipped by her and did not make eye contact, no quips, no smirks. Jess waited—attentive as ever, about to speak—and Kendall exploded.

The visceral reaction she'd felt jarred her; a weird, unrelenting energy coursed through her body, making her vibrate. Making her feel warm. Making her feel out of control. She turned and left him.

On crackers and wine—some strange liturgical combination of sustenance—Jess swooned as she found refuge in the laundry room. She felt ill, but maybe it was the stress. The lack of sleep. The lack of meals. The lack of appreciation. The lack of acknowledgement—for being a human.

Jess silently gripped the rim of the dryer. It hummed away, droning, vibrating against her palms, giving her some grounding. She didn't know how long she stood there. Hours, maybe. Perhaps she could grab a doughnut and finish the glass of wine she'd left in the kitchen.

"Hey."

Jess whirled around, reflexively responding to the sound of his voice, ready to go. She faced him, in the eye.

"Hey," she replied, softly, almost inaudibly.

Kendall was silent. The words didn't come.

"So I—" he tried, but then stopped, shaking with worry about whether she was preparing to leave him. Forever.

Jess waited, not allowing her face to give him anything.

"It's been a long day—" he tried again.

She was silent, holding his gaze, not letting him look away.

"So I—" he began again, trembling.

Jess inhaled and waited.

"Is this—" Kendall pivoted suddenly when the words didn't manifest. They just weren't there.

Jess' eyes widened.

"I can do this, right-?" Kendall stepped forward a little.

She moved her head in such a way that it was impossible for him to know whether she nodded or was merely clearing her throat. Jess paused, finding that she took enjoyment from watching him squirm, especially after the 27 hours she'd just had.

"I think so," she said in a low voice, "otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Kendall's face relaxed, and his eyes brightened for a moment.

"So, you have the prep session with Lisa tomorrow at 8 am," Jess had finally relayed the message she'd been meaning to give.

"Uh-huh. Yeah," he responded, staring at her.

"There's a car waiting downstairs to take you home."

"I think I need a hotel for now," he responded. "Can—"

"Yeah—on it."

"But—I—I need some clothes—um-"

"For tomorrow, yes. Sure. I can do that."

Kendall nodded. "Great. Let's get the fuck out of here."

He disappeared from the doorway, and Jess took a moment before emerging from the laundry room. She came into the living room and found the doughnuts, along with the box, smashed across the coffee table. Jess flew into action, cleaning the mess up quickly. As she carried the destroyed box to dispose of it, she paused as the realization bombarded her:

Kendall had destroyed these. But when? When she was zoning out in front of the dryer? He'd had a tantrum that she hadn't even heard? Or did she do such a good job of ignoring it that she…didn't remember…

She hovered the box over the garbage, looking at the doughnuts. Suddenly, she scooped up one mass of chocolate glazed chaos and shoved it into her mouth. She breathed out a small sigh as she chewed. Fucking delicious.

Kendall came down the stairs with his suit jacket and stopped on the last two steps as he watched Jess sucking the glaze and crumbs off her thumb; her eyes were closed briefly.

He knew it wasn't meant for him to see-it was a private moment. Anyone else would've realized that she hadn't eaten all day, that it would've been a reminder of her hard work, her dedication to him, and of how much she'd sacrificed. But he found himself frozen on that last step, his breathing shallow, staring.

Jess turned and jumped, startled that Kendall had been there—the whole time? For the entire doughnut show? The doughnuts he'd just pounded to a crumbled mess? The doughnuts that she shoved into her mouth anyway?

"Uh—the—" he stepped down and crossed toward the front hall, clearing his throat, "the horse—"

"Yeah, someone is picking it up tomorrow," Jess wiped her hands together quickly, and darted to her computer at the table, throwing things into her bag, "it just—Rava knows it has to stay there for now."

"OK," Kendall waited by the door, surveying the horse.

"And I've hired a cleaning service to come in tomorrow, so—"

"Yeah, good."

They slipped out the door and went into the elevator. Kendall waited for Jess to press the button to go down and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she lifted the strap of her bag over her head and onto her shoulder.

"Could you send me the documents for tomorrow? I need to review them. And all the—"

"Yep, I'll send you the teats I have."

"What?"

Jess broke her eyes away from her phone screen, angelically confused: "Um—the deets? Details?"

"Oh—right. Right."

He wondered what would happen if she ever left him.

And the thought was terrifying.