Congratulations, Jesus. That's pretty much the only way to phrase it that Drake won't try to dismiss or fix entirely for someone else's sake. He goes still, blinking in surprise as it processes... then something in him seems to crumple even though he's still standing.

"Okay. I didn't mean to, I'm sorry," he hesitates, before pushing off the counter and crossing out of the kitchen area entirely. "Come sit with me? I need you to ease up because I'm not hiding anything, I just don't know, but you can help me figure it out."

He doesn't want to hurt Jesus either, which is hopefully obvious at this point, and he can tell that he is. So it's time to do like he promised: if something isn't working they get on the same page and figure it out. Drake drops onto the couch and waits for Jesus to join him, too wound up in the issue now to care about his disheveled state. It doesn't matter; this does.

"What were you worried about, when you realized I left? Specifically."