He looks at the benches, hesitating as he tries to come up with some excuse not to take Malcolm up on the very sensible offer. Like taking a breather means he's fully admitting defeat and giving in to his fucked up headspace.

Fuck it, he's too scrambled for excuses.

"Yeah..." He nods. "Okay." He moves towards the benches with an odd sort of focus, like he's afraid to look anywhere else, just in case...

Just in case his senses start lying again. Jeff drops his head in his hands as soon as he's on the bench, finding comfort in the darkness covering his eyes.

"Fuck, I need a drink."