It did sound a little strange, but only in a way that made Jess acutely aware of his jadedness. He put on a good face--he tried to keep up a friendly rapport with the other prisoners, put his head down and did his part, determinedly refused to give up on a plan to escape--but he was full of black bile ready to explode like a vial Greek fire. Had been since day one.

Had been before that, if he was being honest, when every aborted conversation with Morgan and dead end with Thomas had been fraying his endurance to a thin thread, just as the threat of earthquakes was doing now.

What did a pure and simple sense of satisfaction feel like? He'd known it once, but now it felt like he'd forgotten it, a vestige from a long-ago life he didn't know if he'd ever find his way back to.

Sad.

Jess considered her quietly for a moment, allowing another faint smile to quirk his lips, genuine nevertheless. "I can understand that, I suppose," he said. "I envy you."