"You, too," he rejoined, matching her tone, and then watching her from the corner of his eye as he lifted his glass for a gulp. Nick thought he knew her well enough to gauge her moods, even though her resting one usually seemed calculated indifference or pissed off. Today, if he had to guess, he'd maybe say restlessness or loneliness. Well, that was none of his business. Except she was making it his business, Fury figured, showing up here to talk. He wasn't sure he was ready to take on more baggage, not without a few more drinks in him.
Bart left his shoulder to pad over the bar top and plonk himself down around Jessica's drink glass, flicking his tail as he stared intensely at her. Since she hadn't offered him the attention he hated, and so he had to offer a greeting to this polite non-cat. The ugly Bartholomew was like a hate-seeking missile, he seemed to love hanging around people when they didn't want him in their face.
"What brings you to this neck of the woods?" he asked, rather than the obvious "How are you, really?" that he figured was necessary but that he didn't know if he wanted (or if she'd give) a truthful answer to just yet.