Jesse kind of grips anxiously at the sides of his boxers, nods a little as he shuffles forward a few steps. Then he rubs a hand over his face again and nods with more initiative, some acceptance of it, sighs and moves himself to plop right down on the couch next to Finch. "I get it, man," he replies as he taps out a fist on one of his knees. "I get it."

There's a long beat, where his eyes search back and forth and he doesn't look up at Finch, not until he finishes speaking: "So what're you gonna do?"