[ There's an immediate moment of panic that occurs to him between putting the gun down and Finch's actual response to it - fight or flight, like Finch's just going to take off right there - it's a gun, it's a gun, and that means something incredibly heavier to Jesse than it might to a lot of other people, the feeling of something like that in his hand and the weight of the kind of consequences that thing carries and - ]
[ He's overthinking it. He's overthinking it and there's a line in his shoulders that physically and obviously unwinds when Finch speaks up again, a knot that releases. ]
[ Jesse passes the bowl over, his lighter too, and finally spews out a stream of smoke, planting his hands on either side of him on the counter. He doesn't answer right away, just beats his fingers against the edge to some nameless tune before he blurts out, ] Hate 'em. I hate 'em. I fuckin' hate 'em.
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[ He's overthinking it. He's overthinking it and there's a line in his shoulders that physically and obviously unwinds when Finch speaks up again, a knot that releases. ]
[ Jesse passes the bowl over, his lighter too, and finally spews out a stream of smoke, planting his hands on either side of him on the counter. He doesn't answer right away, just beats his fingers against the edge to some nameless tune before he blurts out, ] Hate 'em. I hate 'em. I fuckin' hate 'em.