He hadn't had anything to drink, his mind clear as Lisa kissed him. Jackson knew exactly what he was doing and exactly the sort of impact it would have on her once the alcohol wore off and she was left with the memory of what she had chosen to do. It reinforced her painted picture of him as a monster, he was sure, but that had never bothered him before, why should it bother him now? Guilt was something Jackson was happily devoid of, and so whereas Lisa's mind was uninhibited thanks to alcohol, Jackson's was free thanks to years of cultivating it to be that way.
She wrapped her arms around him and Jackson responded by bending his knees so that he could grab her legs and lift her up. He walked them to the nearest wall, Lisa's back crashing roughly against it as he continued to kiss her, keeping a bruising grip on her legs as he pinned her against the wall. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever been intimate with anyone, it was well before he'd picked up Lisa as a target. So what did that make it? Years by now? He told himself that the deprivation didn't have anything to do with his choice to take this too far - it was about control, pure and simple.