Bulletproof?

"I'm drunk and not afraid to pull to trigger." Jessica hiccuped. "Come out, I know you followed me here."
She reached for the gun in her waistband, and pointed it at the shadowy figure stumbling toward what used to be a living room. An exhausted looking boy with dirty brown hair and torn up clothes stepped into the room. His eyes widened and he raised his hands at the sight of the firearm.
"I'm not looking for trouble." He said nervously. She stared at him questionably, finger still on the trigger. There was something familiar about him that she couldn't place. Jessica gave a short laugh and stood up, cautiously circling him. The only thing worth noting was how filthy he really was. When she got got to his face, she paused and looked him directly in the eye. He glanced at her , then back at the floor and cleared his throat nervously.
"Who are you?" she said puzzled.
He gulped and and raised his eyes to the gun barrel.
Impatiently, she yelled "Who are you!"
Her tone of voice made him jump and he tensed up even more.
"My - my name's Connor."
She tilted her head and blinked at him. He peered back at her, breath still shaky. She thought for a moment struggling between hope and confusion. Finally she shook her head and closed her eyes. Could it really be him? Should she even ask?
"Connor.....Connor Thompson? " she finally stammered.
His brow furrowed, "How did you know that?"
She lowered the pistol, sighed and bit her lip.
"It's me Jessica."