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"You wouldn't be very much fun, bandaged and bed ridden." A soft huff followed, amusement evident. "What would be the point of winning against you now?" No point.

She didn't really want to get into her home life with Jack. He wouldn't care, but more than that, he didn't deserve to hear about it. So she didn't fight it when he changed the subject so something easier. "A little bit." The admittance came with a small shrug as she smiled at him, benign. "Though it's not why I'm here."

Brows arched at so colorful retort, pale eyes twitching ceiling ward, not quite rolling, before falling back to the Lifer. She tried to recall how he'd talked in the dream, not at the gala, with her, but it was all muddied and mixed up. She got flashes of things, sights and sounds and feelings, but nothing solid.

"Believe it or not, I was worried about you." The smile had faded away, leaving delicate features thoughtful, neutral. "I'm not sure why, but I was." Those lavender eyes left his face, dropping down to the ice water still in her hand. Condensation had formed, clinging to the plastic, and she slid her thumb along that cool wetness, letting the droplets collect and slide down her hand to drip from her wrist.

"Misguided how?" She was genuinely curious. Made her wonder how self aware he was, though if she had to guess, very. He knew just how unpleasant he was, and he not only accepted it, but embraced it. It wasn't just prickly armor he wrapped around himself to keep himself safe, it was just him, down to his core.

Again, she found herself at a loss for why she gave a s**t if he was hurt.

Surely to God it couldn't just be residual feels from that awful dream world.

When he requested she hand over the cup she held it out for him, within reaching distance, but he'd have to actually move to reach it. Petty, borderline sadistic even, but he'd called her a stupid b***h and a whore in the space of fifteen minutes, and if he wanted a drink he was going to have to either ask nicely, or endure a little(or a lot) of pain to get it. "Say please."

She thought about simply keeping her hand where it was, cup not even an inch away from his reaching fingers. It filled her eyes, made her lips give the barest twitch at the corner. It was a nice thought, but not a very kind one, and hadn't she come to check on him out of kindness?

Maybe she was misguided.

The Sun sat there for a good long few seconds before finally sitting up and pushing the cup into his hand. Messing with him gave her a certain vindictive satisfaction, but she could appreciate the amount of pain he was in, and he had taken care of her a lot more thoroughly than she would have expected after knocking her silly at the end of their last spar.

"I told you," she started dryly, folding herself into the chair once again. "They're all sleeping, you're not." It was the truth, as far as it went. Just not the whole truth, and he was a little too insightful for comfort.

Frowning, she brought her hands up, smoothing the heels of her palms over tired eyes before combing thin fingers through her bangs to force them back and away from her face. Pale eyes drifted away from him, around the room, the bouncing line of the monitor beside the bed.

She'd come because she was genuinely worried. That worry was perplexing. It made her want to pick it apart, dissecting it, until she understood it. That was impossible, least she actually spent time with him, instead of simply trying to ignore him, and whatever it was that fueled this sudden and utterly unexpected concern for his well being.

It was both unnerving, and infuriating.

"I'm not leaving the infirmary." Honesty, perhaps, for the time being. "Not so long as you all are stuck here. I'm not lying about every other person I give a damn about sleeping. They are." There was something to her voice, some thread of warmth. It wasn't anger, yet, but could grow into that. She turned back to him, leveling him with what she hoped was indifference, but might not have managed. She wanted answers, but she didn't want to give Jack enough information for him to use against her.

"I was, still am, concerned for your general well being, though admittedly, I'm not sure why." Thin fingers knit, folding across her stomach. "Since I can't be helpful elsewhere to people that actually care that I exist, I am here, trying to figure s**t out, and helping you." And pushing buttons, mustn't forget that.

She looked unconcerned in the face of that unimpressed gaze. "Not really." Devout would not have been a word she'd have used to describe herself at the moment. She was here out of fear, out of a need to be useful, for any little distraction that might help take her away from her own mind, because she did not want to have another little break down like she'd had before everyone had made it back, more or less, in one piece.

He waved the cup at her, and she just looked bored. "I don't have to give you jack s**t." By posture and position alone she made it very clear that he'd tolerate her as long as she damn well felt like being there, and there wasn't really a whole hell of a lot he could do about it.

But...driving him up the wall wasn't her primary motivation for checking in on him.

<Tread carefully, halfpint. This one is a threat in more ways than one.>

I'm aware of that. Exhaling sharply, she narrowed lilac eyes upon cool green. The silence stretched for a handful of long seconds, Peyton debating internally, then finally she spoke up again. "What all do you remember about New Years?" Well, he had wanted something more.

It seemed to her that the only memories she had access to were the events of that night, and anything she had thought about or felt during the course of the evening. She did not know if it was the same for everyone else, but even if it was, it was likely Jack would have had other things on his mind beside strictly what had been happening. Maybe he remembered more than she did, and the only way to find out, was to ask.

She took the cup as it was handed back to her, and for a very brief second considered simply setting it down to be contrite. Petty, but true. There was something about the giant that brought out in her the desire to be difficult. She resisted, and grabbed for the pitcher on the bedside table. "My cousin isn't half so sweet and innocent in reality." Something Peyton had found pretty disappointing after-the-fact.

And of course she remembered everything that had happened during, in fine detail. It had been a disappointing evening all around. Excluding, perhaps, the very end. The girl in that dream had been very different from the one sitting beside Jack's bed now, or at least she wanted to believe that.

<You are not that other you. > War's gruff voice was soothing.

Refilling the cup, she handed it back to him before laying her hands across her stomach again. "Strays? Why do you say that?" There was more she wanted to ask regarding the alternate universe, or reality, or whatever the hell it had been, but she temporarily let it go.

Pale eyes narrowed very subtly but she refrained from commenting. She didn't agree, and he didn't seem to want to expand on his reasoning, so they could just let it go and move on. Though, admittedly, what came next wasn't anymore charitable.

She watched at the cup lowered to rest on the blankets covering his lap, then flicked her gaze up to meet his. He thought she was soft, and there was a side of her that was. Now, here, more than ever before. But She hadn't come to Deus soft. "I'm not as soft as you think I am." She didn't sound defensive when she said it, more as if she was simply stating something that was fact. He didn't have to believe her, she knew the truth.

When Stormy came up she twitched a brow at him curiously. "I looked in on her, while I was looking for the others, she was asleep."

With a frown, fingers fussing against cable knit of the jumper, she got back to their previous topic of conversation. The one Peyton was most interested in exploring. "Do you remember anything else about that other reality? Not specific to that night, but before it?"