Jerome nodded without even realizing it when Oliver spoke, slowly and thoughtfully, knowing all too well how much he needed to be busy to keep himself level-headed. He was pretty oblivious about many things that happened under his surface, but he could surely estimate why he was so desperately trying to keep himself occupied at all times. He knew that it helped. He knew that he drank wine when it didn't help anymore.
His gaze was stuck inside of his coffee, while he hadn't touched the sandwich once yet, despite it laying there on its plate seductively, teasing him with a scent that made his stomach yell at his hands to finally grab it. But Oliver's words and his own thoughts were particularly good at distracting him, and during the approximate middle of Oliver's sentence, Jerome lifted his gaze, eyeing up on Oliver with another skeptical frown. Edwins's words came to mind about how he shouldn't always ask them when he needed help, and in this particular situation, this plea suddenly made a lot of sense.
"You speaking of experience?", he asked a little carefully, not wanting to push any topic that Oliver might be uncomfortable to talk about, while he denied himself the insight that overdoing things was exactly what he had been doing starting decades ago.