[ He's half expecting her to shove him out of the room despite his offer, and he can't quite explain the relief that washes over him when she doesn't. He's already so entangled with her--and he shouldn't be. She's right that there are Complications, that he hasn't known her long, that he has no obligation to her.

And still.

He watches as she walks to the drawers, collects something (he thinks it's a watch, but he doesn't demand to see it--instead focusing on the way her hands curl around it, both protecting it and drawing strength from its presence) and settles on the couch.

When it's clear she really isn't going to ask him to leave again he makes his way over, slowly, perching on the edge of the couch near her. At the explanation, he nods, slight smile ghosting across his face before it's gone ]

And here I am, looking just like him and asking if you want to play chess [ He hazards, putting the pieces together ] The Universe isn't letting you catch much of a break tonight, is it?

[ The words are gentle, teasing, almost, though the object of the teasing is more the events that have transpired instead of her -- maybe it's a bad attempt at a joke, a way to lighten the mood. He wants to reach out and settle a hand on her knee, but he doesn't, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. Jim doesn't want to make it worse ]

So other me was pretty good at hustling people? I like him more the more I hear about him.

[ a quiet invitation for her to keep talking, if she wants ]