After returning to her room, Isabel realized that she was still disturbed by memories of the nightmare. Not wanting to be alone, and not even certain she wanted to go back to sleep, she grabbed her laptop, a few DVDs of silly movies and headed out her door in search of company. She thought about knocking on Greg's door, but figured it was probably best to let him sleep and recover from his cold. So instead she went to the second floor and stood outside Jack's door, hoping that neither of his thingies had chosen to spend the night tonight.
Leaning against the doorframe, she knocked quietly on the door.
The knocking jerked him out of sleep, the jerking jarred his shoulder, and Jack swore, but he was on his feet, stumbling for the door automatically. Visitors at this hour were either very good, or very bad, and either meant he should let them in as quickly as possible. So quickly, in fact, that he didn't stop to put any clothes on.
"Isabel?" he asked, blinking as he got the door open. "What's up?"
Isabel was still fairly distracted by the dream, so it took her a moment to realize what Jack was not wearing. Then she facepalmed and began a careful study of the ceiling. "Jack? Clothes please?"
"Oh." He looked down at himself and smiled crookedly. "Sorry." Jack snagged a pair of sweatpants out of the closet and pulled them on, saying, "It's safe now. Is everything okay?" Which he realised, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, was probably a stupid question.
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Leaning against the doorframe, she knocked quietly on the door.
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"Isabel?" he asked, blinking as he got the door open. "What's up?"
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