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Tim blows out a plume of smoke, one hand hooked over the railing, the other pinching his cigarette between index and middle finger. The night's heat isn't unbearable to the point where smoking's a bad idea, but the nicotine's liable to keep him awake for hours to come.

He wasn't about to sleep anyway.

It only takes a few moments, but he draws it out. Let the ash trail out between fingertips and wisp out across the breeze. Takes a minute to eye the darkened, distant treeline, which sits there innocuously in the distance, the same as ever, before he starts back through the hall.

Camera perched and blinking, ready to track them through the night. The first few nights in grimy hotels had been the hardest, for a variety of reasons, but the inability to escape the piercing, flickering red of the recording light had left him tossing, turning, huddling, for hours on end. Wondering if Jay had the same difficulties adjusting, before deciding not to ask. Why would Jay notice, or care? He might as well be attached to the camera, the way he carries it around.

He shuts the door behind him, dropping into the desk chair.

"You good?"

In the absence of an armchair, Jay's sitting on the ground, his back up against the foot of the bed. He's in full view of the camera.

He jumps when Tim opens the door, but after a moment to process who it is, he sinks back to the point of half-sleep he'd unintentionally reached while waiting. He's not actually asleep. He's just not really thinking about anything is all.

Tim asked a question, didn't he? Jay nods, head lolling.

Maybe he's more exhausted than he thought. Maybe.

"You lock the door?" he mumbles.

God, he's just barely holding on, isn't he? Tim glances at the doorknob once before reaching over and clicking the lock shut with the satisfying slide and chunk of bolts.

"Yeah," he says, a trifle unnecessarily. Feeling considerably more awake than he did prior to all this shit, he glances back in the direction of the camera, that beady little red light that no longer drills into his skull quite as thoroughly as it once would have.

"Now get some sleep,Jay, jesus."

Jay huffs out a strange little noise that might be a laugh, but he's not sure he can pinpoint what's funny. Maybe it's being scolded about staying up, when they both know what's kept them up for years is as real and solid as the bolt in the door. Maybe it's just the exasperation in Tim's voice, like Jay's insomnia exists just to annoy him personally. Maybe Jay's always been a little punch-drunk at sleepovers.

The noise comes again.

Yeah, sleep sounds like a great idea.

Reluctantly dragging himself out of his comfortable slouch against the foot of the bed, Jay reaches into the closet and withdraws a pillow (thin, but manageable) and a blanket (weird texture, but warm). He wraps the blanket around his shoulders and sets the pillow on the floor, and he's not sure when head met pillow but it's there now and he's not moving.

Tim, on the other hand, is not asleep at all, like the filthy hypocrite he is. Should've offered him the bed, seeing as Tim's not using it, but it might be kind of weird when Tim was just...in it. And Jay's out like a light pretty much immediately anyway. So.

He runs fingers through his hair and sighs, low enough that it hopefully won't wake anyone.

God, what a day.

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