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The zombie held one hand out to the side, effortlessly stopping Ferros in mid-swing. "Jordy," it said.

Jordan nearly dropped Ferros. He knew that voice. He'd never expected to hear it again. And now that he looked, he could see that the zombie was Andy, but not as Jordan had known his brother. Rather, it was Andy as he'd looked when the morgue attendant had pulled the drawer out, half his head crushed, the entire left side of his body mangled beyond recognition, and Jordan had said "Yes, that's him," and turned away. Andy.

"Why weren't you there?" the zombie asked. "Why didn't you keep me safe? You promised."

Jordan woke tangled in the sheets, heart pounding, cold all over in spite of the blankets. A dream. It was a dream, and his subconscious was painfully predictable, sledgehammer obvious in its symbolism, but that didn't change the wave of grief and loneliness that swept over him. Staying in his room would only depress him further, the space coldly impersonal except for the few small things he'd brought with him; he slid out of bed and dressed quickly. Ferros slept on, the sense of the dragon heavy and quiet in deep sleep, only the constant low rumble that always accompanied him audible.

Once outside the room, Jordan paused, indecisive. He didn't really want to be alone, but his friends would be sleeping. He wasn't about to wake anyone up just because he'd had a goddamn bad dream. Maybe the cafeteria - the kitchens would be shut down for the night, but there might still be someone around, and the coffee machines would be on. Yeah, that'd do.

It was a short walk, and he retrieved a cup of coffee and a half-squashed donut from the counter before claiming a table. He slumped in his chair, absentmindedly shredding a napkin and letting the sense of awful hurting loneliness turn into irritability. That was easier to deal with.

Oh look, not one of his favorite people. Rep got a halfhearted dirty look. "Yes, I'm drinking coffee in the middle of the night to make me sleepy again," Jordan said, his tone in the same range between serious and sarcastic. Nightmares, he almost said, but he was pretty sure that Rep would give him crap about that, and he didn't feel up to dealing with an exchange of insults that involved something that actually upset him.

"Same for you, I assume?" he added.

Jordan raised an eyebrow. Not a single insult in three sentences. That counted as being friendly, out of Rep. He suppressed the urge to point it out, for fear of ruining it. "Do I count as no one?" he said instead. "Or have I screwed up your plans to brood silently alone, like a one-man raincloud?"

He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, letting the heat warm him. He still felt the chill of the dream; psychological or not, it was comforting to warm his hands. Ferros stirred in his sleep at the sensation of warmth, then settled again with a vague grumble.

That got a faint quirk of a smile. Good, Rep hadn't figured out that Jordan's general calm was more like a well-practiced poker face than actual evenness of temper. "Starting s**t requires me to deal with whatever s**t happens, as entertaining as it can be initially," he said. "That takes effort. And Robert can't bring me aspirin all the time."

He took a sip of coffee and contemplated his answer. Rep was being almost good-natured for once; maybe he wouldn't be too much of an a**. "Nightmares," he admitted, and eyed Rep, daring him to comment.

Drink and drugs, huh? Not a big surprise, really, but Jordan left that topic alone. Most people who drank, got high, or both either knew they were doing something they shouldn't or managed it responsibly, and either way generally took offense at being informed of the obvious. "Yeah, some dreams you just don't want to stay in long," he agreed instead. He wasn't up to actually talking about the content of the dreams with anyone, and was quietly grateful that Rep hadn't asked.

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding. So was this why Rep was being friendly? "I can see how sleeping wouldn't be too appealing that way." The told-you-so urge was overwhelming, but he chased it off with coffee. It'd be childish and antagonistic to say it out loud, and anyway, that was another Captain Obvious-worthy statement.

Jordan laughed quietly. "The level of weird you get used to as normal around here is pretty high," he offered. "Just a word of warning - if a brown-haired woman in an apron with hearts on it offers you cookies, don't eat them. You might get turned into a cat." This was said with absolute sincerity, because it was true.

He nodded more seriously to the second statement. "Tastes nasty, too," he said. "It'll pass, though." He was pleased to hear that Clarice had gotten the message through. It was vaguely possible that if Rep faked respect enough it might turn into the real thing.

"Seriously. Sounds bizarre, but seriously. Ask Marcus. He was the one who was short and fuzzy for a while." Jordan shrugged one shoulder. "You get used to it. Amazing how adaptable the human brain is."

He sipped his coffee and listened to Rep's not-quite-question, looking thoughtful. It was a complicated question, not just socially and factually, but also in regards to Rep's narrow view of the world. He asked simply, "Why?"

"Ferros likes to say the most outrageous things he can think of just to see if he can make me react when I'm around people," Jordan said. "He's a real pain in the butt sometimes." He sounded amused and affectionate, though; the relationship was clearly an amiable one. "He pokes at my thoughts, but it's good to have someone to talk things out with. Get another perspective, you know."

He set his coffee cup down, linking his fingers around the white porcelain. "So men need to be strong to take care of women; and it's difficult for a weak person to take care of a strong person, so women need to be strong to take care of men," he reasoned. "Both men and women have weaknesses. Being able to admit you have a weakness and work with others to strengthen it is a good thing. It sounds like it should just about even out." He sighed. "Things go horribly wrong whether or not people do what the mysterious, nameless they say people should do."

He smiled faintly then. "You get angry when people tell you you're doing something wrong that you feel you're doing right," he said. "It's the same thing. You're telling them they're doing something wrong that they feel they're doing right. Of course they get angry about that."