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Likely she should have called first, or at the very least dropped a text, a message, something. Instead Peyton simply showed up at Jack's door, unannounced, looking less than happy to be there. Frowning, she lifted a hand to offer a few, sharp knocks to the door.

<Peyton, why are we here?>

Because I need to tell him about my last mission.

<Why?>

I just do, okay?

Warrick's response was a very sharp snort at the back of her mind and what she was assumed must have been the mental equivalent of a shake of his head. The Sun sighed, arms crossing as she waited.

A pale brow shot up at the noises coming from within the room. "J-Jack?" Features pinched, concern creeping in around the corners. "Are you okay?"

Her head with tilted quizzically as the door opened, and pale eyes widened as she took in the sight of him standing there in a bruises and a robe, and not much else. It wasn't the worse she'd seen him, but it was pretty damn close, especially with the broken arm. "Jesus Christ," she breathed out, ignoring the 'b***h' comment. At this point it sounded more like a term of endearment anyways.

"I thought you might like to know what happened on my last mission, Red-eye again." Thin arms slid apart, and she brought both hands up to tuck curls back behind her ears. "But I think maybe I should save it. Damn, Jack. What the ******** happened to you?"

Did she actually care? Again?

Kind of. Fat lot of good he was to her dead.

"Less for your well being, and more for your continued usefulness," she quipped acidly before the door he was grumbling and closing the door in her face. For a second she considered just going back to her room, but she waited, small hands sinking into her back pockets, the toe of one boot tapping softly on the floor.

As the door opened again she regarded Jack with a bored look. "I don't care where, cripple's choice." A dip of her head indicated the cast on his arm.

"You look like you got chewed up and spit out." If she were honest with herself -- and she usually was in Jack's presence -- he looked better in bandages. Bruises suited him, they had since their fateful little chat in the infirmary. Unfortunately she hadn't gotten to cause these, mores the shame. "You're not going to keel over on me, are you? You look like hell."

Pale eyes narrowed incredulously. She had faith that he was hard to kill, but not impossible. She'd come close, after all, twice. Though she didn't point it out, and instead merely stepped back to allow him to join her in the hall so he could close his door behind him.

"Hero," she gave the barest of snorts beneath her breath, both amused and annoyed. "My rooms fine, if you think you can make it up the stairs." His needling comment on Noah wasn't worth acknowledging, so she didn't. Anything she could have said would have been defensive, and she had no reason to be.

<This isn't a good idea.>

Do you see the sorry state he's in? He does anything threatening and all I'll have to do is breath on him.

<That's not what I meant.>

She turned, heading for the stairs. Jack would either follow, or he won't. Though she didn't doubt the mention of red-eye had him hooked.

It'll be alright.

She waited for him at the top of the stairs, key ring dangling from a finger as she watched him struggling with the stairs. Of course she didn't offer to help, he wouldn't have taken her up on it anyways. Besides, watching him struggle had it's own appeal, one she was not often privy to.

When he got the hall she started walking again, leading the way down to 250, humming under her breath along with him. Why not.

When they reached her room she turned a curiously inquisitive glance to the door beside it, before unlocking her own and pushing it open to usher him inside. "Make yourself at home." He would anyways, she had no doubt, so waited for him to pass before following and closing the door behind her.

The room, suite really, was larger than the ones they had on the first floor. There was a kitchenette set into the nearest wall with sink, fridge, and stove. A small, two person table sat tucked up beneath one window, and beside that was a peek-a-boo shelf that served double duty of book stand and wall divider. Her bead was on the other side of it, neatly made. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed, a dress against the opposite wall, and a night stand. Beyond that was a living space with a futon couch and coffee table facing a TV. A doorway in the far wall lead into a private bathroom.

The leer was met with a bored expression and a roll of eyes, breath leaving slowly through pursed lips.

Instead of following him into the living space Peyton headed for the fridge and grabbed herself a Dr. Pepper, popping the tab and taking a drink. Stalling, probably, but after a minute she followed him, eyed the couch he was sitting on, and instead took a seat on the edge of the coffee table across from him, can sitting lightly on her knee.

"No, she's fine." As red-eye encounters went, this one had been on the tamer side. Tame being a relative term. "We were in London. Danielle Sinagra was one of the hunters at the Peru bass before it was hit with the red-eye, she went missing, but was spotted in London. Originally they had a Death hunter fallowing her, Pascal Sanchez." She wasn't sure if Jack cared about the names, but on the chance he did, she included them. "Pascal ended up dead. The last line of his final report had been She's hunting me. Stealth was abandoned in favor of strength." They weren't even close to subtle, but they were undeniably effective.

Lavender eyes settled on his face, the bruises that stood out against pale skin and bright eyes. "A dragon, you said?"

Of course he'd give her nothing but one word answers. Lips pursed, and she brought her can up for another drink as she eyed him. At least he'd actually answered, she supposed that was something.

"They wanted the problem dealt with, and they trusted us to be quick about it." If he thought he was being insulting by that comment, he thought wrong. Beating s**t up was Peyton's job, and she was damn good at it.

She set her soda on a coaster next to her hip, then leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "What kind of dragon?"