Jess/Marco
Jess looked up from her leaning perch against the tree, the sun having set far enough that she didn't even need to shade her eyes to immediately see who had interrupted her momentary peace. The only person she likely would have tolerated barging in on her solitary time was Bishop or Reyna, the people unlucky enough to call her their friend, and maybe Kevin simply by biological default. But Marco? He was neither of those things.
He was just a giant thorn in her side.
"In what universe, Samurai Jack?" Jess raised her eyebrow at him and very deliberately didn't move an inch, except to raise the bottle to her lips and take in another drink while still maintaining unflinching eye contact with her sworn enemy. A little dramatic, maybe, but there wasn't really any middle ground with Jess and Johanna. If you crossed them once, you may as well be dead to them, and he'd crossed Jess more then once.
Which begged the question why she wasn't immediately delivering another verbal lashing brutal enough to leave a mark. If pressed she'd just use Danny as an excuse, since her son had unfortunately grown weirdly attached to the man during Danny's many play dates with his Uncle Daniel. Ugh. Annoying. She would really have to talk to her kid about his terrible taste in friends, but four years old was probably still too young for someone to really understand why Marco sucked so bad.
The fact that Jess couldn't really put into words herself why he sucked was definitely not the point.
He'd just challenged her, that was the point, and Jess was maybe a little over eager to put him in his place. Their previous thrown down in the training room in front of half of Camelot's combat department might have ended in a draw, but in Jess's mind, they were far from even. That was as far as her train of thought ever got when her mind slipped back to that day, though, any farther and she immediately got angry for reasons that alluded even her but might have had something to do with the very involuntary reaction of noticing someone physically when you were literally wrestling with their sweaty, tragically muscular body. She did not find him attractive. He was a smug asshole who was now trying to steal her spot.
"There's no way you were sitting here since I was sitting here first, and if you're trying to invoke shot gun rules? The other person has to actually be close enough to hear you call it, which I wasn't. So no shot gun, no dibs. I won this spot fair and square, now scram."