(no subject)
Jason is on his side, snoring, blankets wrapped over his head.
Ellen approaches Jason's bunk at a swift step with her hands clasped behind her back, the click of heels marking her passage over the concrete floor. She stands by its head and looks down at him, frowning faintly.
Jason continues snoring. With the blankets wrapped over his head.
"You are a very inconvenient sleeper," Ellen informs Jason with flat impatience as she regards the blanket-swathed head, despite the relative likelihood that this will do much good.
Snooooooooore.
Ellen leans forward to curl the fingers of both hands into his blankets, and tugs.
Jason's fingers clench stubbornly aware into the underside of his blanket. NO.
Ellen sighs. She moves to perch at the edge of his bed, sitting down with her ankles crossed and her hands tightening on her knees. She says, "Tiresome."
"What do you waaaant?" Jason finally groans.
"To speak with you." Ellen turns her head to eye the lump of blankets that is Jason's head.
"/Why/?"
"I need your help," comes the level answer. She lifts a hand, but instead of dropping it anywhere in particular, she curls it to a fist and puts it back in her lap.
"Yeeah, right. My help." Jason chortles a muffled chortle. "/Whatever/."
Ellen frowns uncertainly at this response. After a stretching moment of silence wherein she mostly sits there looking puzzled, she bravely plunges forward. "I have some mayhem to cause that I cannot accomplish alone."
"Mayhem?" Jason's voice, at least, brightens. He draws down the edge of his covers and grins.
Half a smile shadowing her mouth's curve, Ellen inclines her head to him. "I thought that that might get your attention," she says mildly. "I want to deal death in a New York hospital and evade capture."
"Uh." What? Does Jason in fact look rather uncomfortable. He clears his throat. "Why?"
"The Friends of Humanity," clarifies Ellen, her hands lacing neatly together over her grey-clad thighs. "The ones who survived their attack on the safehouse. I want them dead."
"Oh. Understandable!" Jason clears his throat again and looks pointedly at the ceiling. "Could we do that in the morning?"
"Yes," Ellen answers blandly. "We can." She rises from her perch on his bed, straightening the lines of her clothes with absent tweaks of her fingers. "Thank you, Jason. You've been most helpful."
"You're . . . welcome," Jason says, eyeing Ellen just a little narrowly.
Ellen observes, tilting a glance down at him, "You seem puzzled."
"I'm just so very tired."
"I am sorry to have woken you," Ellen says, her head dipping penitent.
"You're very kind." Jason resnuggles. Er, manly pulls his blankets back over his head.
Ellen looks down at him for a moment with an odd, quizzical expression; and then she turns and clicks back across the barracks and towards the door, too busy a nightowl to rest her own head as yet.