Hello everyone! Welcome back to Little Things! As always, your feedback and reviews are so appreciated and I get so excited about reading each and every one of them. They're such motivators. This is shorter than I wanted it to be, but I'm crushed by finals at the moment, which makes this difficult to do.

What if when he sees me

What if he doesn't like it

What if he runs the other way

And I can't hide from it

What happens then?

If when he knows me

He's only disappointed

What if I give myself away

To only get it given back

I couldn't live with that.

Jenna believed in the value of practice. No data could truly be considered valuable unless it could be replicated. It was for that reason, and no other, that she had let Jacob have his do-over. When that had gone... well... she could either take the finding at face-value or she could attempt to replicate it. As a scientist, the answer was simple. So, she'd let him do it again. Two great results. A promising start. Why not go for three?

It had been a purely academic pursuit. How could she say with any sort of confidence that Jacob Black was a good kisser if she didn't have the results of multiple trials to serve as evidence for her claims? Now, she could say that Jacob Black was a good kisser. Having said as much, she would also murder anyone who tried to replicate her experiment. As for the matter of whether she was a good kisser - well, Jacob had been happy to undergo multiple trials, that had to count for something? To know for certain, she'd have to ask him to share his own findings. Something told her, just a little feeling, that he probably hadn't been keeping as concise a record as she had. Some people just weren't cut out to be scientists. A pity. She would've liked to know - of course, it was only too easy to say that because she knew she never would. If Jacob actually ever attempted to tell her, Jenna was sure she'd shatter her own ear-drums before listening.

He'd spent a few hours in her room, lounging back on her too-small-for-him bed as if he owned it. It had taken a while, but he'd eventually gotten over the matter of the shirt, and while Jenna was curious as to how he'd immediately recognized a t-shirt to belong to Quil, she didn't push the matter for fear of activating his irrational jealousy again. She had to appreciate that he didn't ask the reason behind her behaviour. It was as if Jacob was only too happy to forget the incident entirely.

"I genuinely am sorry for what I said to you earlier," Jenna forced out, her pride itching at having to apologize but her conscience not letting her rest until she'd done so genuinely. "We are friends."

Jacob sat up on her bed, staring at her with a shell-shocked expression on his face. "After all of that - we're just friends?"

She could feel herself blushing at the statement, her hands immediately moving to pull the robe she'd donned tighter shut around herself. "I didn't say-"

"I feel so used," Jacob sighed, flopping back down into his uncomfortably scrunched position on her bed. "So cheap. You make out with me three times and call me your friend!"

"Stop it," Jenna scolded, face flaming, looking around herself for a pillow to hit him with. Of course, he was lying on all of them.

"Friendzoned," he groaned, pressing a hand to his eyes. "How will I ever survive?"

"First of all," Jenna hissed, reaching forwards to try and yank one of her pillows free from out under him, "there's no such thing as a friendzone, so you'll be fine."

She tugged at the pillow diligently, aware of him watching her efforts with an amused glance.

"Need some help from your friend?"

"No, thank you, bestie," Jenna sneered, "I can do it."

Jacob laughed, settling himself back more comfortably and continuing to watch her with soft, unguarded eyes. He looked like a great big stupid moose at rest. She was just considering how she could use his own bulk against him when his hand shot out, lightning-fast, and wrapped around her wrist in a strong, but gentle, hold. His fingers were large enough to completely swallow her wrist, a feat that Jenna didn't see often. She hadn't wrapped her head around the fact that he was so big that he could make her feel small when he used his grip on her wrist to yank her forwards so she tumbled forwards, half sprawled over him.

Jenna barely stifled a shriek, attempting to brace her palms on her bed to push off of him. "What - why would you - what is wrong with you?"

Jacob's arms wound around her, squeezing her till she stopped struggling. He sighed in satisfaction. "This feels so friendly."

"You're being ridiculous," Jenna admonished, terrified that her weight would start suffocating him any minute.

"Friends need hugs!"

"I'm going to crush you!" She protested, wishing she could disappear. Why did she have to be the one who said it? Why couldn't he just operate in the constraints of the very obvious elephant in the room? She was the elephant in the room.

Jacob snorted as if she'd just debuted her stand-up routine. "I know you think you could kick my ass, but let me assure you that is not a possibility."

Jenna could feel the vibrations of his voice through his chest, wanting more than anything to simply relax and enjoy the warmth and firmness of his very bare chest under her cheek. She wished she could attempt to explore - again for academic reasons - the muscles that flexed and relaxed with his movements, that rippled across his chest and abdomen.

"Relax, Jennifer," he insisted, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a move that sent odd tingles through her spine. "I promise you, you're not going to crush me."

Part of her wished she could completely release her weight off of her forearms and let him have it, it would be no less than what he deserved, but Jenna didn't want to be right. Not about this. She'd rather swallow a hot poker than be right about this. She knew better than to argue with him about it though. It never did anything to argue with people about it. They would always insist that it wasn't that bad, that she wasn't ... and they'd trail off. They'd never finish the sentence. Fat. It was what it was. After years of dieting, calorie counting, starving, and exercise regimes - Jenna had accepted the fact that this was what her body wanted to look like. This was how her body operated. Most of the time, she was okay with it. But then there would be instances like these, and she'd be reminded that she had a long way to go before she would be completely okay with it. She didn't want to see the discomfort when he realized that she had, in fact, been right.

"You're not going to stop overthinking it, are you?" Jacob sighed, and Jenna forced her eyes back to him, wishing she could rewind this entire interaction and spare herself this.

He didn't give her the chance to even begin to think of a response. Faster than she could wrap her head around, Jacob knocked her arms out from under her, causing her to collapse on him wholly. Before she could begin to panic, his arms had cinched back around her, holding her firmly in place. Jenna gasped, almost expecting to hear sinister cracking noises. Instead, he remained silent, fingers toying with her hair as he continued to breathe at a regular, measured pace and not like someone who had just had the proverbial elephant in the verb dropped on them.

"Why would you do that?" Jenna whispered, feeling more vulnerable than she could remember in a long time. She couldn't have felt more exposed if she'd been standing there naked.

"You're a scientist," Jacob mused, tugging on the strands of her hair that he'd wrapped around his fingers. "I gave you evidence."

Her heart clenched in her chest. She licked her lips, preparing herself to speak.

"Don't even bother asking me if you're too heavy," he interrupted, the amusement fading from his voice rapidly. "You're not. I expect you to believe me when I tell you that."

Jenna frowned. "How am I supposed to just believe you?"

"Oh yes," Jacob drawled, shifting so he could glare down at her. "It's not as if I gave you evidence."

Jenna gaped at him, bracing her hands on his chest to push herself up and glare back. "It's a single trial! That's not significant evidence."

Jacob raised an eyebrow at her before sighing and nodding. "Alright, then, get up, let's do it again."

Jenna yelped, wrapping her own arms around him so he couldn't push her up to try again. "No! That's not - it isn't necessary."

"That's what I thought," he muttered, settling himself down again. "Bet my evidence is looking real significant now."

She refused to dignify that with an answer, mumbling curses under her breath.

"Sorry, what's that?" He sounded disgustingly cheerful.

"I said," Jenna muttered, "that this is why we're just friends."

"Ouch," Jacob sighed. "Friendzoned again."

"The friendzone isn't real," Jenna reminded him, "but if it were, you would know it well."

He laughed, the sound reverberating through his chest. Jenna was struck again by the difference between them. He was all muscle and firmness where she was all squishiness.

"I'm serious," she insisted, "people can't be friendzoned. They just feel such entitlement to someone else that they girlfriend-zone them."

Jacob grinned at her impassioned speech, tugging on her hair lightly to angle her head back so she could look at him.

"I'm girlfriend-zoning you," he announced, looking like he'd just solved all his problems.

"That's not how it works!" Jenna protested, feeling the colour bloom in her cheeks again as a surge of something sweet and airy floated through her at his words.

"It does," Jacob assured her, pulling her head towards him until she was only a hair's breadth away, "and it works that way because I said so."

"Very convincing." Jenna whispered, trying to move her eyes away from his lips.

"I did think so, yes."

She would let him have this one.

Jenna awoke the next morning feeling like she'd slept better than she had in years. Despite being awake until well past midnight, she'd woken bright and early with the energy of an entirely different person. God knew she wasn't usually a morning person. Jacob had made her follow him to the window and latch it behind him as he ducked out, maneuvering his way down with an ease that shocked her. It was also highly suspicious. Jenna hadn't wanted to ponder on it the night before, she'd been too busy with her own feelings of fuzziness, delight, and overall enjoyment. Now, however, it was a completely different day. Back to the business of scientific inquiry. Up until this point, she'd maintained that whatever it was that was going on with Jacob and company was none of her business. Now that Jacob had...girlfriend-zoned her - the reminder was enough to send another illogical thrill through her - it had kind of become her business. At least that's what she was choosing to tell herself.

She needed a research team in order to be able to come to a concise solution, that much was evident - but, Jenna wasn't convinced that what had become her business was anyone else's. To that end, she still wasn't entirely sure it was her business, to begin with. Unbidden, the memory of Jacob slamming his hand down onto the covered car in his garage flashed through her mind. The sound of the metal denting, curling in around itself, echoed in her ears. People shouldn't be able to dent cars that easily. She didn't think they should be, at the very least.

Jenna walked over to her window, peering down at her mother's beat up car sitting in the driveway. She had a car. She also had a hand. It could be tested. Not beyond the realm of possibility. First, she needed a notebook. Grabbing a pen, she began to make as many notes as she could about her surroundings when Jacob had hit the car. There were threats to the validity of her experiment to be sure. For one, she didn't have any sort of emotional stimulus to facilitate an adrenaline response - something that could have contributed to Jacob's presumed denting of the metal on his car. Secondly, she did not have the body that Jacob did. Not by a long shot. It could be argued, however, that Jacob's physique was part of the experimental condition. Jenna paused for a long moment, mulling the thought over. It would have to be set aside for further analysis.

She made her way downstairs, pausing in the kitchen to greet her mother. "Morning."

Her mother jolted, blinking owlishly at her. "Jenny - you're up early."

Jenna frowned, narrowing her eyes at her mother across the counter. "I am. Was there a point hidden in there somewhere or are we stating facts?" She glanced down at her mother's clothes. "You are wearing a blue shirt."

Her mother rolled her eyes, pushing away from her perch against the counter to reach for the coffee pot. She refilled her mug, shaking her head at Jenna in reproach.

"I'm just surprised, is all. You're always up late mumbling to yourself like a mad scientist."

"What is madness?" Jenna retorted around a mouthful of the poptart she'd stuffed into her mouth. "It stands to reason that only the mad would know."

Delaney Coleman narrowed her eyes at her daughter, pointing an accusing finger in her direction. "That's a whole lot of words to say 'takes one to know one.'"

Jenna swallowed, fighting a grin. "See? You know me so well."

Delaney laughed, walking over to begin to fiddle with Jenna's hair, trying to bring it into a neat braid behind her. "Of course I do. I carried you around inside me for months. That's how I know that you're up to something now, my mad scientist."

Jenna sighed, enjoying the feeling of her mother's hands in her hair. She'd let her finish and then move on to the experiment. It seemed like her mother was always busy with something and Jenna was always trying to be busy with something else whenever she was free. In the months since her father's death, their interactions had fizzled out, almost as if speaking to each other would be a reminder of what had happened. It seemed so much easier to just keep to themselves. At that moment, however, she couldn't begin to remember why she'd ever stayed away. This was wonderful. This was home.

"I am. I'm testing my hypothesis on the limits of typical human strength."

Her mother made a noise of interest in her throat, combing through Jenna's hair with her fingers. "Sounds like quite the project, how are you attempting that?"

"I'm gonna punch the car." Jenna said simply, taking another large bite of her poptart.

Delaney was silent for a long moment. Her fingers stilled in Jenna's hair as she made a noise of contemplation. "That's… interesting. I wonder - would there be a less painful way of testing that?"

Jenna shook her head immediately, wincing as her mother smacked her shoulder in retaliation for destroying the progress she'd made on a braid. "Afraid not. The contextual background of the hypothesis necessitates the car being an experimental condition."

Her mother muttered something under her breath that Jenna couldn't catch. No matter. All the great scientists had been questioned in their day. Their efforts unappreciated, their legacies trod upon.

"Is this a cry for help, Jennifer?" Delaney finally demanded. "Should I be concerned?"

"The only thing you should be concerned about," Jenna quipped, whirling around to face her mother, appreciating the bounce of her new braid over her shoulder, "is the maintenance of my experimental integrity!"

"When you hurt yourself - which you will," her mother sighed, "I will be waiting right here to take you over to the Health Centre - possibly all the way to Forks. There may be a psych eval involved."

"I appreciate your unwavering support of the progression of scientific prowess," Jenna beamed, pressing a quick kiss to her mother's cheek. "As for the matter of the psychiatric evaluation, I would argue we missed the boat on that one a long time ago."

She flitted out the doors, enjoying the small amount of sunshine that would peek out periodically through the clouds, as though supervising the research she was about to undertake. Surely, this experiment was blessed. It would go wonderfully.

In hindsight, Jenna should have known better. Now that she was sitting in the ED at Forks Hospital cradling her swollen hand, it seemed only too obvious that she'd gravely miscalculated. She didn't need a doctor to tell her she had a metacarpal fracture, that much had become immediately apparent when a white-hot pain had shot through her knuckles, her ring finger curving unnaturally inwards towards her thumb. If she looked at her hand for long enough, she was almost sure she could see the movement of the broken bone.

Jenna had never broken a bone before, so not a complete waste of the day, to be sure. Just not the result she'd anticipated. She would definitely never forget what breaking a bone felt like. She also couldn't deny the morbid medical curiosity that had arisen in her at the sight of the bone clearly broken under her red, swelling skin. She could only hope that she'd be allowed to see the x-rays to see just how severe the break was and whether it had fragmented.

"Did you have to hit it that hard?" Delaney sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"On the bright side," Jenna mumbled, shifting in discomfort, "your car remains virtually unchanged."

"You're going to have to wear a splint for - I don't even know how long, Jennifer!"

"Four to six weeks," Jenna offered. "The average healing time for a metacarpal fracture assuming it hasn't resulted in severe fragmentation that would require surgery."

"You better hope it hasn't," her mother hissed, "or I'll break your other meta-whatever myself."

Jenna blanched, looking away from her irate parent. Somehow, she had a sneaking suspicion that her mother didn't share her feeling that a fracture was worth the information gleaned from the experiment. She had hit that car with everything she had in her and barely made a mark. The car, obviously, had hit back with everything it had in it and left a hell of a mark. The possibilities here were that she didn't have as much in her as she thought - which could be the case. Or, that cars weren't supposed to dent that way from punches. But who was to say - she'd never tried before and obviously, if a car could dent from a hit, it wouldn't from hers.

"Mom," she hedged, testing the air to see if her mother's threat to break the rest of her metacarpal bones had any weight in it.

Delaney looked at her with the expression of a woman who had had enough a long time ago, but the look was without heat. It was safe to proceed.

"I'm sorry your Saturday's been wasted here," Jenna offered in a conciliatory tone.

Her mother's face softened and she stood up, walking over to Jenna to fold her into an embrace, made awkward by Jenna's immobilized arm.

"That's what mothers are for, crazy girl."

Four weeks. Her bones hadn't fragmented severely, a bit of a pity, truthfully. She hadn't even gotten any super cool x-rays to look at. Nope, just a clean fracture that would heal right up in four weeks provided she kept it immobilized and dry in its cast.

"Are you going to let people write on your cast?" Quil asked, a pen already in his hands as he moved towards her in eager steps.

"It's not as if you're Jane Austen that I'd want to walk around with your thoughts on my arm," Jenna scoffed.

Quil deflated and Jenna sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. Didn't he deserve that much for inadvertently providing her with his own odd sort of therapy the night before? "Fine, you can write something."

His face lit up again and he surged forwards, slowing as he reached for her arm with a gentleness that surprised her. Quil wouldn't let her see what he was writing until he had finished. He spent so much time bent over her cast that Jenna began to worry.

"Do you need some help down there?" Jenna asked, gasping when Quil shushed her from his perch.

"I'm concentrating," he mumbled. "I have to make sure it's perfect."

After a few more moments that felt like hours, Quil straightened with a victorious grin, moving away from her.

Jenna watched the gleeful expression on his face with rising dread, almost afraid to look down at her own arm. She took a few, deep breaths before glancing downwards.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

You were the chosen one! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the force… not leave it in darkness!

I HATE YOU!

You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!

She almost wished he'd drawn a dick instead of this. Anything but this.

"What the hell is this?!" Jenna demanded.

"It's a message," Quil said finally, "a dual purpose one."

Jenna gestured wordlessly for him to continue, not trusting herself to speak now that she had some sort of geek code written on her arm.

"One - you spend too much time hating on Star Wars, it serves you right to walk around with my favourite scene on your arm." Quil shrugged as if this were a natural conclusion.

"You're lucky I can't throttle you right now, you stupid geek," Jenna hissed.

"I'm sure you could find a way if you had enough time," Quil allowed, "but then you wouldn't hear the other purpose this message has."

Jenna glared at him, growling under her breath as she resisted the urge to try and rip the cast off. "What's the other purpose?"

"It's a message for Jacob," Quil admitted after a long pause. His voice took on a measure of bitterness that surprised her. "He joined the Sith. Both he and Embry. They plunged the force into darkness."

Jenna blinked at him for a long moment. "I want to empathize with you," she began, "but I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Look," Quil sighed, "I know you said before that you don't want to hear any conspiracy theories about Embry and Sam and all of them. But something seriously fishy is happening with them, and Jacob and I both swore we wouldn't get involved with it after they poached Embry."

Jenna was silent. It was true, she had told Quil that she wouldn't listen to him prattle on about Paul, Jared, and Embry as they hadn't done anything to her. Clearly, Quil had also noticed something. Could it be that he had noticed what Jenna had? Could he be recruited to her research team?

"Say, Quil," she began, and he looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Can you dent a car by punching it?"

It was his turn to be silent. He stared at her for long moments, his face growing more and more incredulous with each passing second.

"Are you kidding me?!"

So, Jenna had her answer. It was possible for a car to be dented by a punch, just not her punch. Lovely. Didn't that figure.

"That's how you got that cast!? God, are you insane, Jenna?"

Jenna sniffed in a dainty motion, refusing to answer him. Just for that, she'd never let him join her research team. She would operate as a lone wolf. Obviously, some people didn't understand appropriate behaviour in discussing the rejection of a hypothesis.

"Yeah, if you punch a car in an area where the metal is thinner, it will dent. Like the hood. If you hit a part that's reinforced, then it's harder to do."

Well, that would have been interesting information to start with. It was her own fault. She hadn't done an adequate literature review to inform her hypothesis. She deserved the broken metacarpal. As punishment for irresponsible science.

"Why did you punch your mom's car?" Quil laughed, looking like he'd won the lottery.

"I believe," Jenna said in answer, "that you've overstayed your welcome. Goodbye, Quil."

Quil continued to laugh as Jenna struggled to stand up with only one arm to support her efforts. Her burgeoning hatred of Quil reminded her of the shirt she'd stowed away in a bag to return to him, at Jacob's… request.

"Take your shirt back," she snapped, tossing the bag at his chest, "and go home now. I'm in pain and cranky."

"Woah, woah, woah," Quil protested, getting to his own feet with more ease than Jenna had displayed. He peered into the bag. "Why are you giving this back to me?"

"I just am. It's not - I don't. I just am." Jenna settled on that as an explanation.

Quil stared at her for a long moment before his mouth dropped open. "He was here last night! He was here and he wants you to give my shirt back!"

"No!" Jenna immediately countered, wanting to keep the memory of last night private and hers alone for just a little while more.

"He did! He would've known it was my shirt. All three of us bought the shirts together, he has one too. So does Embry."

Jenna cursed internally, realizing another one of her flagged interactions was a fluke. Jacob had recognized the shirt as belonging to Quil immediately because he'd been present when it was bought. Nothing suspicious there. Besides the fact that Jacob, Embry, and Quil bought matching clothing.

"Why would you all buy the same shirt?" Jenna wondered.

"As a symbol of friendship," Quil explained as though the reason should have been obvious. "Although, fat load of good that did me, huh?"

Jenna made a face, unwilling to comment on that and tip the scales any further. He'd moved away from the topic of Jacob being in her room, that was more than enough for her. Maybe it was a matter of torn loyalty between Jacob and Quil that made her reluctant to disclose what had happened the night before? Even as she had the thought, she knew it wasn't true. Talking about it would mean making herself vulnerable, making it obvious to other people that she had emotions. That was… dangerous. It was odd, Jenna knew she wasn't in any danger from Quil and yet the alarm bells that went off in her head at the thought of candid disclosure didn't seem to agree. She knew that Quil wouldn't hold it against her, Quil had been the one to encourage her to speak to Jacob regardless. He had a much bigger heart than anyone gave him credit for.

"But anyway," Quil continued, shaking off the cloud of melancholy that had descended over him, "I want him to read the message. He'll know it's for him."

Jenna sighed, unable to deny him the use of her cast as a forum to air his grievances against his former friends. She supposed she owed him that much, if nothing else.

"Sure, Quil."

"Just do me a favour," he hedged, looking suddenly awkward. "If they ask you to choose, just - let me know, please. Don't just leave me wondering."

Jenna's heart clenched in her chest, and she was suddenly thankful for the cast around her arm. Without it, she would've grabbed Quil in a hug that would've only embarrassed them both.

"Quil," she said firmly, her tone brooking no disagreement, "I wouldn't choose. You're my friend, that's not for anyone but me to decide."

Quil didn't respond for a long moment, keeping his eyes trained on a spot on her carpet. When he finally looked up at her, he nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Jenna."

Jenna swallowed, wanting to reassure him that she appreciated his loyalty, his support more than she could say. That she wouldn't leave him behind after all that he'd done to be there for her.

"Don't thank me. Just go home, geek." She said instead.

When he grinned at her, tucking his shirt back into the bag and walking out past her while humming a jaunty tune, she knew he'd read between the lines.

Just as she'd thought he would.

Jenna hadn't seen or heard from Jacob since the early hours of Saturday morning when he'd left through her window. She would have been concerned or even bothered but he'd informed her he'd be busy for the remainder of the weekend before he'd ducked out. As a result, she didn't think it was good form to be upset at him.

There was a small, probably deeply damaged part of her, that was glad she hadn't seen him since. It meant that when he arrived in class today, she'd get to see his completely unfiltered reaction to her cast. Jenna tried to tell herself that her reasoning was wanting to measure Jacob's reaction to Quil's message on the cast, to see whether there was any merit to the theory that Jacob had joined the Sith or whatever the hell it was that Quil had said. However, that small, deranged part of her was quick to point out that she was more eager than anything for a potential expression of concern.

Another part of her was resolved to remind her not to be too quick to assign so much importance to herself. It was a harsh, needling voice that snidely demanded to know why it would matter to Jacob that she'd injured herself, it wasn't as if he had a reason to care. Didn't he though? If he'd girlfriend-zoned her, as he'd so eloquently put it, did he not have a reason to care about her well-being? There had to be some kind of middle ground here, even as far as painful, insecurity driven thoughts went, that one was ridiculous. Jenna couldn't imagine Jacob not being concerned for anyone that he'd last seen hale and hearty who was now sporting a cast.

The damage had been done though. Now, she was doubting whether any expression of concern would be one on the basis of Jacob simply being that sort of person or whether it would be a reflection of him feeling something for her. It was nonsense! He'd said as much. Why would he have kissed her or come to her house and kissed her again - or any of the other number of times he had - if he didn't feel something for her? It was frustrating, to say the least. Why did her brain choose to do this to her?

All that torment, and all for naught. Jacob didn't show up to class at all.

It was enough to add insult to the very literal injury she'd already suffered. It was incredibly, intolerably rude was what it was. Despite her mounting ire, Jenna had to wonder whether she wasn't making a larger issue out of this than was necessary. Technically, she wasn't just offended for her own sake, there was also the matter of Quil's message on her cast. She'd been trusted to pass that along, so all she was doing was taking her responsibility seriously. The remainder of the school day passed by without any great incident. Jenna basked in the glow of Kim's concerned attention and Julie's envy that Jenna had broken a bone, albeit one in her finger, before she had. But once the lunch period was over, she was back to sulking and waiting until she was free from school to return home and take another pain killer.

Jenna didn't realize just how much she relied on her arms while walking, whether it was to swing them, keep them crossed, or shove her hands in her pockets until she couldn't use one of them. At that point, her walk home had become the longest 10 minutes of her entire life, she'd felt every step like it was a punishment. She should have realized that the worst part was yet to come. It was staring her in the face in the form of a locked door. Getting her keys out of her pocket was easy enough to manage, they were in her right pocket and her right hand was free. Using them was another story. She was in the habit of gripping the lock with her left hand and inserting the key with the right. That was currently an impossibility, so Jenna was left stabbing at the lock, hoping one of her attempts would land. It was pitiful, really, how absolutely shit her hand-eye coordination was. Maybe this should be her concern rather than Jacob's… shenanigans.

"You need some help over there, bestie?"

Speak of the devil.