She's expecting one of the doctors or nurses, the medical personnel who've been coming in and out of her room intermittently since she was first brought in. Seeing Jim standing in the doorway, though, Molly just about lights up, or as close to it as she can get when she's this fucking exhausted (and visibly so) and without pulling at the stitches in her lip. There is, of course, a part of her that still feels distinctly uncomfortable about all of this — not what happened itself, that's something entirely different, but being seen in this state by people she knows — but it's not like there could be any avoiding it. Right now, self-conscious as she might be, it's mostly just nice to see him, that he's here.

"Yeah, of course," she says, reaching over and hitting the power button on the remote after all, not needing even the visuals of a soap opera on in the background when she'll have his company now. "Come on in."