Without him to wall off the cold beside her, Jess hitches the blanket back up over her shoulder. She has another, long swig, frozen to the chair.

"Sure," she croaks, canting her glass in his direction. "Why not." Her humility and dignity have absconded like a swarm of moths so she doubts it will bother her half as much to have him criticize her nonexistent survival chops. She's only capable of half-listening right now, anyway.