His giggling subsides, gaze drawn to the red in Chris's eyes, traces of a smile still lingering on his lips. Is he seeing things, a little trick of the light, or trick of his frazzled, fucked up mind? Or is it something more familiar, something closer to magic at play here?

It's got him curious enough to distract from his own drunken self pity-- at least until Chris's question.

Jeff shrugs, breaking eye contact so he can look away and stare at... well, nothing in particular.

"I dunno." He wasn't drunk when he met the white-haired lady, but he sure as fuck wasn't sober or in his right mind moments before that, when he'd gone on stage and performed the worst-- and last-- fucking show of his life. "I didn't even know if she was real."

He looks at Chris again and plants a smile on his face, bright and totally forced, as if he's trying to convince them (and himself) that he's just joking.

"Kidding."