She gradually reclines into the couch, sneaking a glance around Kamala for confirmation. Same scars, all right, probably. There's enough to deal with right now without poring over that loaded memory. Thankfully Kamala has more to say, as she usually does. Jess weighs her theory against Frank's -- Kira's, whoever the hell Kira is. To her, instead of contrasting each other, they fit together well.

"If you're gonna experiment on people, why not clones," she thinks aloud, watching the rolls in Aurora's fur as she scrubs the dog's head, remounted on her leg. Jess sighs, at a loss for what to do with an Avengers-sized existential quandary or the hint at Kamala's must-be-fucked-up backstory. Wordlessly, Jess pushes herself to her feet and wanders further into the house, towards the kitchen she hasn't quite been in yet. She's taking him up on that coffee but first she's going to root around the cupboards for the biggest mug they got.