The silly bastard. Jessica visibly tensed, eyes narrowed, but no amount of glaring could truly explain how she felt. She wasn't even entirely sure she herself could. When Nick spoke, she lifted her chin to brave it, and murmured a cold, "Well enough," before falling silent again. She didn't know what she expected from Nick--an apology, perhaps, for keeping her in the dark, for having her endure fake death reports, for being insensitive and making her feel less like a priority in his fucking life, even in an apocalypse where she could lose him any day now, and at the rate he was going, not even fucking know it? Would it matter? An apology wouldn't make her feel any better about the situation, about the fact that there was a museum full of civilians to worry about, and it certainly wouldn't fix her team who was falling apart at the seams. There was a bigger picture Jessica had to consider, and she didn't think she could afford to add her own problems into it. She choked back tears and actually looked at Nick, smiling sadly when she said, "You're alive. I believe that's all I need to know."