Jerome was still absorbed in his dishes, which, as always, offered a nice distraction that was numbing the voices in his head and the feelings attached to them, allowing him to function by the offering of a purpose. Today wasn't different, and even though spending time with Oliver was the only thing he was actually looking forward to, besides the inevitable act of numbing himself with alcohol in the evening, which was, especially for Jerome himself, a rather questionable anticipation, he, again, didn't hear the man entering the kitchen at all before his deep voice ripped him away from whatever world his mind had thrown Jerome into.
He startled for a heartbeart, frowning for a second while trying to remember if his kids suddenly entering the kitchen also had this effect on him, but fortunately, there wasn't much time to dwell on this thought, as Jerome turned around a little too fast and splashing tiny drops of water on the counter. Seriously, he needed to stop startling everytime someone he had even anticipated to come entered the room he was in. It probably was still part of the process to grow accustomed to this whole new situation, very much like all those moments he suddenly woke from nightmares he didn't even remember, since his arrival here. Last time this had happened so frequently was maybe eight years ago.
Despite the sudden attack of gloomy thoughts, and the overall partially gloomy sentiment his mind had reacted with in regard to this fucking place change and the implications, Jerome smiled mildly when his gaze landed on Oliver, feeling relieved for some reason. It wasn't that he had feared Oliver wouldn't come, and it wasn't like he had bonded with Oliver so much already that it would have been a big problem if he wouldn't have come, but instantly, it felt... safer inside this kitchen. A sense of familiarity in a place that seemed threatening. He still wasn't able to really grasp what Oliver's company meant to him, and how much he needed essential human contact like that.
He quickly checked Oliver in a heartbeat, remembering in which state he had been the last time they had seen each other, and how familiar this state was. He explained this with his knowledge about panic and anxiety he had gathered because of his daughter, compared it to what Lucy was going through. He didn't compare it to himself, which would be more accurate and the actual reason this had seemed so familiar.
Oliver seemed back to normal, whatever "normal" was around here, and Jerome loosened the grip on the hose while his smile grew amused at the sentence Oliver had directed at him. This, totally, was a statement he had heard a thousand times, and it was a nice change that a memory of his kids didn't automatically hurt him.
"Guess this is the first time I agree to this statement. Well, it's also the first time an actual adult is suggesting it to me."
His smile grew even more amused, and the thought that Oliver wouldn't end up making sandwiches was actually relieving, too. Jerome definitely didn't have anything against sandwiches, or Oliver making these sandwiches. He was simply not used to others providing any kind of food for him, especially when it felt like a favour they wanted to do.