( he might not be aware he's doing it, but jason is. and he's letting it continue for a good few moments, listens to the soft sound of the guitar coupled with soft humming. it's innocent enough. there's nothing else audible enough to pick up around them - not the clang of metal against metal, no other footsteps receding or approaching the room as far as he can tell. his shoulders tense up as he rolls over, reaching for the pillow that's not quite under his head so he can pick it up and toss it straight for the bed across from him.
it's soft, it's not thrown with enough force to do anything, but it also works as great cover for him pressing his arm along his jacket, feeling for the familiar weight of the miscellaneous toys he keeps on himself. they're all there; every knife, every cord of wire, the flashbangs, right where they should be. good. )
Some of us're trying to get our beauty sleep here.
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it's soft, it's not thrown with enough force to do anything, but it also works as great cover for him pressing his arm along his jacket, feeling for the familiar weight of the miscellaneous toys he keeps on himself. they're all there; every knife, every cord of wire, the flashbangs, right where they should be. good. )
Some of us're trying to get our beauty sleep here.
( not that he'd been asleep for the last bit. )