Tim is just... probably not ever going to really be used to sleeping at night. He's spent most of his adolescence (and to be honest, a lot of his childhood) staying up through absurdly late nights and catching naps when he can that sleeping through the night is just...
Something that happens to other people.
He wanders the (can it really be called a compound if there isn't a lock? The gate should be locked against... things) barracks area, making a little more noise than he'd like to on his crutches, but--well. These things weren't exactly made for stealth.
Pausing next to the large tree, and the--almost--obscuring roots, he looks up. "Nice night," he comments, as if to no one in particular.
"It was," she says, covering the mark for a moment before she lets her hand drop. Whether she's referring to what brought her out here or to him is anyone's guess. "Not tired? Or just too wired to sleep?"
He hums absently. "Not very tired. My work forces me to keep strange hours sometimes." He glances sidelong at her. She's definitely guessed about him--though God knows how--and talking to her is a little like the few times Tim Drake has had the opportunity to converse with Commissioner Gordon.
...He's still a Robin. He kind of likes to play, sometimes.
She does at least make a cursory effort not to smile. "Cute."
Murphy stretches until her back gives a luxurious crack and slowly gets to her feet. "I'm sure it's just the international phone calls and jet-setting someone your age with your occupation has to do. How's your friend doing? Cissie?"
Unlike Murphy, Jo can't sleep at all, so her nights are usually spent out patrolling or aimlessly wandering around the barracks. Tonight is a night spent aimlessly wandering, but her shotgun is in hand just in case. As she passes by the library, she spots the woman beneath the tree, and remembers her from some time ago. She racks her brain for a name to put to the face, and unable to come up with who it is, she simple saunters her way over to lean up against the trunk of the tree.
"Hey there, starshine."
She figures a terrible nickname is better than getting her real name wrong.
Murphy's eyebrows go up. She moves her hand to brush back some stray hair and hopefully not draw attention to her neck.
"Please tell me you're not a fan of Hair. I used to be a fan, but after your niece makes you watch it fifteen times in a weekend it starts to lose its appeal. It's Karrin Murphy, by the way. Your name was what again?"
"Never seen it." Jo admits with an awkward look on her face, and takes a step away from the other woman. "Jo Harvelle." She thinks to offer her hand to shake, but given that they're meeting under a tree in the middle of the night, the gesture almost seems a little too formal. So instead she smiles a little, before returning to lean up against the tree.
"Don't usually see many other people up and out this late. You okay?"
Harry doesn't sleep all that well even on a good night. Whatever protection's on the walls aside, there aren't enough wards here for him to feel sleeping solidly through the night. He wakes up when Murphy slips out of bed, but at first it's only enough to be sure it's just Murphy moving in their cabin and nothing seems immediately wrong, and then he slips back into a half-doze.
It's only when he drifts back toward consciousness fifteen or twenty minutes later and she's not back that he wakes up entirely, and decides to go looking for her. He checks the forge first - it's close to their cabin, and it doesn't seem unlikely she'd try to make some progress towards getting the building functional if she couldn't sleep. No such luck.
He's muttering irritably under his breath as he leaves the forge and starts across the barracks, toward the stairs to the wall. It's crossed his mind that she might not even be in the barracks now, and if that's the case...
Well. Harry's just trying not to think too hard about that possibility.
Murphy's fallen into a light doze, her hand still over her neck. She's already starting to dream again, seeing herself child-sized and cradled in the arms of the woman whose face she can't see. The woman is singing, and it's soothing, but Murphy can't hear the words.
She's singing them herself though, in a half-awake alto murmur. "They called for a hero, and maybe that’s me: it seems that there’s nobody else. But the candle is fading, and I can’t quite see how I’m going to save you -- I can’t save myself."
The singing catches his attention as he passes the library. He turns to follow the sound, moving slowly until he actually spots her among the roots of the tree. Well, at least she's still inside the walls... though whatever small comfort that is, the creepy singing kind of negates it.
Harry stops directly in front of her, and just watches her for a few seconds with a faint frown before crouching down and reaching out to shake her shoulder gently. "Murph?"
Cissie hasn't been sleeping very well. Sharing a cabin with Tim is strange and taking some getting used to, especially given his sleep schedule--or lack thereof. Waking up and finding herself alone in the cabin is unnerving. If she was smart, she'd roll over and make herself go back to sleep, but she can't and lying awake in bed (again) doesn't appeal to her in the slightest.
She goes for a walk; she's not going anywhere in particular or looking for anyone, she just hopes that maybe she'll wear herself out enough to crash when she finally goes back to bed.
Murphy is starting to doze off when she hears someone nearby. She straightens, listens, and then eases upright, watching Cissie for a second before she whistles softly.
Cissie nearly starts at that whistle, but recovers quickly, turning toward Murphy's voice. She spots her against the tree and smiles, moving closer, sticking her hands in her pockets. "They're fine. How about you? The tree's more comfortable?"
"The tree is quieter. My cabinmate snores." Not technically true, but it's better than the real reason she's out here. "First week jitters or something? Believe it or not, it gets almost routine."
"This is an interesting place to sleep, or are you jus' tryin' to catch a cold?"
Dante is used to being up at unusual hours and life at the barracks is no different. He leans on one of the roots beside Murphy and looks down on her with slight amusement and curiosity.
She glares at him, grateful at least that he hasn't called her a demeaning nickname just yet. "I was meditating on a world without men. How's the demon hunting business? Finding enough work?"
So touchy, Ms Murpy! Dante just laughs a little and scratches his chin in a casual thinking pose. "Oh? Doesn't sound all bad. I always did prefer women." He shrugs. "Not bad, not bad... Pay's pretty lousy around here tho', but what else is new yeah? Got a collection of furs out of it at least."
He leans on the tree trunk with his back and gestures with his hands, "Was thinking of makin' myself a nice necklace out of the teeth and claws of my slain enemies. An' maybe a bowl out of a wolf skull. Y'know... for that real manly I'm-stuck-in-a-fuckin'-forest barbarian style, y'know?" He stops gesturing and looks down at her and winks, possibly both joking and teasing.
She can't help it. There's a little grin on her face that blooms into a real smile as he goes on. "Sounds very Viking-chic. And monster-hunting pay generally sucks. At least where I'm from we get crappy benefits along with the crappy pay."
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Something that happens to other people.
He wanders the (can it really be called a compound if there isn't a lock? The gate should be locked against... things) barracks area, making a little more noise than he'd like to on his crutches, but--well. These things weren't exactly made for stealth.
Pausing next to the large tree, and the--almost--obscuring roots, he looks up. "Nice night," he comments, as if to no one in particular.
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...He's still a Robin. He kind of likes to play, sometimes.
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Murphy stretches until her back gives a luxurious crack and slowly gets to her feet. "I'm sure it's just the international phone calls and jet-setting someone your age with your occupation has to do. How's your friend doing? Cissie?"
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"Hey there, starshine."
She figures a terrible nickname is better than getting her real name wrong.
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"Please tell me you're not a fan of Hair. I used to be a fan, but after your niece makes you watch it fifteen times in a weekend it starts to lose its appeal. It's Karrin Murphy, by the way. Your name was what again?"
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"Don't usually see many other people up and out this late. You okay?"
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There's a breath of silence before she says, "What about you? Like you said, not many people around this late."
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It's only when he drifts back toward consciousness fifteen or twenty minutes later and she's not back that he wakes up entirely, and decides to go looking for her. He checks the forge first - it's close to their cabin, and it doesn't seem unlikely she'd try to make some progress towards getting the building functional if she couldn't sleep. No such luck.
He's muttering irritably under his breath as he leaves the forge and starts across the barracks, toward the stairs to the wall. It's crossed his mind that she might not even be in the barracks now, and if that's the case...
Well. Harry's just trying not to think too hard about that possibility.
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She's singing them herself though, in a half-awake alto murmur. "They called for a hero, and maybe that’s me: it seems that there’s nobody else. But the candle is fading, and I can’t quite see how I’m going to save you -- I can’t save myself."
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Harry stops directly in front of her, and just watches her for a few seconds with a faint frown before crouching down and reaching out to shake her shoulder gently. "Murph?"
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Fuck.
Murphy straightens and rubs her eyes. "Hey. Didn't mean to fall asleep out here. Just wanted to walk off a dream."
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She goes for a walk; she's not going anywhere in particular or looking for anyone, she just hopes that maybe she'll wear herself out enough to crash when she finally goes back to bed.
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"Hey. Camp beds not agreeing with you?"
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Dante is used to being up at unusual hours and life at the barracks is no different. He leans on one of the roots beside Murphy and looks down on her with slight amusement and curiosity.
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He leans on the tree trunk with his back and gestures with his hands, "Was thinking of makin' myself a nice necklace out of the teeth and claws of my slain enemies. An' maybe a bowl out of a wolf skull. Y'know... for that real manly I'm-stuck-in-a-fuckin'-forest barbarian style, y'know?" He stops gesturing and looks down at her and winks, possibly both joking and teasing.
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