Turning back, Jemma's looking at the floor, her hands skimming the hem of her t-shirt before she awkwardly crosses her arms. She's incredibly vulnerable, and she hates how much it shows. That's likely why she finally looks up, her eyes skipping from him to the ceiling, and it's incredibly clear that she's trying not to cry.

Her lips are pressed in a thin line, that tiny uncomfortable smile still there. "Yes? I... I'm afraid that I'm still- Things are still a bit... difficult." She's trying to explain it away, one hand coming up to brush at the corner of her eye before she takes a deep breath. "Lasting affects from the concussion. Sorry, it's- It's nothing."

She was always a terrible liar. Fitz always knew - always, but there was the chance that he wouldn't call her on it. That he might not press, because honestly this conversation was going to be difficult for both of them.