Jessica considers this, expression placid. "That kind of rootlessness can be freeing, in a way." But constantly uprooting yourself to avoid accountability or commitment is usually a sign that there are underlying issues to address. She pauses, then adds gently, "Having a support system of people who understand you, a place to call home ... it's important for your wellbeing. I hope that in time, you'll find your tribe and settle in a place where you feel you belong." There's empathy in her tone, and a warmth that invites the girl to open up further if she feels inclined. But Jessica also understands if she's not yet ready, and simply hopes she'll take her words to heart.

Oh there's no way in hell she's opening up about-

"I get what you're saying, I gue- I really do. But I don't know that it really... I mean, I'm not skipping town or anything. I'm not, uh, disappearing on friends. I'm just not a big fan of people. I have... my own ways of looking for recognition and belonging, I guess. I'm figuring myself out."

Jessica nods, her smile gentle and understanding. "That makes sense. Figuring yourself out often involves a fair bit of self-reliance and independence." Still, she hopes that in time the girl will move from avoidance of commitment to finding healthy connections in her own way and at her own pace. Emphasizing that she's here for her at this stage probably isn't going to help much more. "I'll walk you home. Where have they put you up for the time being?" This is the best way she knows to show her that there's no need to go it entirely alone.

She just nods. Narrowly avoided that one.

"...At home, actually. I own my own place, so I guess they didn't bother with whatever procedure they have for this sort of thing."

Anticipating some kind of follow-up question, she enunciates:

"Emancipated."

She senses the girl's relief in her body language. She reminds Jessica of a marionette doll a little - strings and tension everywhere. Jessica raises her eyebrows, impressed in spite of herself. "That's quite an accomplishment." Given Banshee's youth and self-professed avoidance of attachments, gaining legal and financial independence suggests a degree of maturity and industriousness beyond her years. "Then I wish you luck getting home." She lightly jogs over to a towel rack, wiping off sweat.

"Don't give me too much credit. It was kind of a mutual decision."

She isn't particularly sweaty, or, actually, particularly tired, but she follows halfway, throwing a glance after her.

"I guess this is you withdrawing your invitation? I mean, fine by me, but I was kind of looking forward to finally having an excuse to bring someone over. Show off all the holes I made in the walls."

The tone is joking, but in a haha only serious way.

"Thanks, though."

Jessica pauses, looking over her shoulder and meeting the girl's eyes for a moment. There's a hint of rueful humor in her smile. "Let's call it deferment of gratification. Another time, perhaps." She appreciates the glimpse into Banshee's home life, however oblique - even if it is concerning. The biting sarcasm and subtle cry for help don't go unnoticed. "You're welcome. Take care." With a small wave, she bids the girl goodbye for now. There will be time enough to dig deeper in their next session. For now Jessica is content to plant seeds and build rapport at the girl's pace.

Unfortunately, her tiny apartment is in fact in the same direction.

She elects not to say anything, smiling wryly and waving the therapist off. She'll have time to agonize over what just happened later.

...Huh.

Don't look at her. She's just walking, hoodie over head. Maybe if she keeps walking they'll take different turns and this will stop happening. Yes, let's do that. 

As much as Jessica tries to give Banshee space, they do end up walking the same direction for several blocks. She keeps stealing glances at the girl out of the corner of her eye, noting the tense set of her shoulders and hurried stride. It's obvious she's uncomfortable with Jessica's presence, though whether that's due to a general dislike of authority figures or something more personal is hard to say. Finally, as they near a crossroads, Jessica stops. "This is my turn. Take care, Melissa." She hesitates, then adds, "You know you can reach out anytime if there's something you want to discuss." Jessica offers a small, encouraging smile. "Even if it's just to talk." With that, she turns the corner towards her apartment. The ball is in Banshee's court now.

Just walking. With the left foot and the right. Striding forwards. Nothing to see here. 

She nods slowly in lieu of an answer, staring awestruck at Jessica, before... also taking the same turn. This day isn't ever going to actually end, is it?

"I swear I'm not following you. Is- is this a bit? Am I being tested right now?"

She punctuates that with some very flamboyant, vaguely accusatory hand motions.

"I guarantee that this is not a 'bit'. I just want to go home."

If Melissa has secretly been living in her apartment this whole time she is going to scream.

"Okay. Of course. Coincidences. Those can happen."

Deep breaths. Very deep and very calm breaths. Still vaguely suspicious of this whole affair, she trudges on, idly cracking individual knuckles on her fingers, not daring to ask what street Yamada lives on.

She's going to punch in the door code for the building, keeping her body between her company and the keypad. And just go in. It's okay to be rude sometimes. She needs out.

She doesn't really look away so much as vaguely lose focus, staring dumbly at Jessica from a few feet back.

Jessica is in fact left to her own devices inside the building. 

For a good few seconds. Before someone outside presses the buttons on the door and makes it through first try.

"Listen."

Beat.

Jessica closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She turns around very slowly. "You said that you weren't following me." Her voice is impressively calm and level given the circumstances. She briefly considers the possibility of Master/Stranger shenanigans before dismissing it. No. This is just Tuesday.

She stares at Jessica for a few seconds, eyes a little wide, body still.

In lieu of answering, she sheepishly pulls a keychain out of her pocket, jingling it quietly.

"Me first."

"As you wish."

She is not going to scream she is not going to scream she is not going to have to live the rest of her life NEXT TO HER PATIENT.

Melissa's expression is kind of numb, at this point. Quietly measuring. This really isn't helping the paranoia. She'll rummage through the mail and the trash to look at the dates on the bills she can find later. Now she'll watch.

"You'll want to see me open the door. Ms. Yamada."

It doesn't look like a master key or blank, if Jessica even knows what those look like. Just a house key. Standard for the doors here. And it's not a big keychain.

Insert. Turn.

(It doesn't quite turn. She gives the door a little push, and tries again, all in the span of a held breath.)

The door opens.

Jessica presses her lips together, holding back a flood of questions. She settles on one: "How long have you lived here?" Her voice is impressively calm given the maelstrom of confusion and panic swirling inside.

"Four months."

Her lips make a soft pop, like she's chewing bubblegum, but there's nothing there. Still 'calm'.

"You?"

Jessica feels her brain short circuiting. Four months. She's lived there for over a year. How did she not notice a parahuman living directly across the hall this whole time - right, she just became one. She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes and sighs deeply. "I apologize, for the abruptness, but I have to go." With that, Jessica steps into her apartment and gently closes the door. She needs a drink. Several, even. Today has been utterly absurd.