"Burp!"
Jessica's little face flushed red as she burped, then staggered into the only remaining convenience store by the roadside, picking out what she would drink next.
Not long ago, she had left Avengers Mansion after mooching a meal there—or rather, after drinking heavily from the fine liquor Tony's father had stored in the basement of his old home.
Two bottles of whiskey were merely enough to wet the throat for a female drunkard. Feeling that she was still one drink short, she had wanted to take a few bottles home, only for Captain America to catch her and lecture her. What was this about drinking in broad daylight at such a young age, being drunk every day with no ambition whatsoever, and how that was wrong?
The Captain felt that since Jessica Jones had joined the Avengers, he could ignore what she had been like in the past. But now that she was under his watch, he had the responsibility and obligation to help the girl get back on the right path.
Then the Captain began reminiscing about hardship. He spoke of how, when he and Bucky had been young and had nothing to eat, they had relied entirely on the help of their Godfather, Mr. Wilson, to survive until they were old enough to enlist.
He went on about how bitter the war had been, how many people had suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder after World War II and found life worse than death, how they had returned to the city unable to find decent jobs and eventually fallen astray, and so on.
In short, he wanted Jessica to understand just how hard-won the lives young people enjoyed today were.
Private detective was a respectable profession, and Jessica had even earned her PI license. She ought to run