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“Anything?” Hellion asks, low, at the top of the hour.
Idran shakes their head. “Nothing,” they say, frustration clear in their voice. Hellion relates. They’ve been out here all day and all night, waiting for the arrival of a supply caravan one of Hellion’s sources had assured Hellion would be passing this way in the next two days. They’ve been trading off time at the scope watching the distant bend in the road - distant enough that any Risen who might be travelling with the caravan won’t be able to detect their Light, even if they weren’t suppressing it. But still nothing.
“Your turn,” Idran says, and they execute the awkward shuffling and sliding over and under each other required to switch places in their tiny blind. They’re both lying down; there’s not room for sitting up.
Hellion settles in at the scope as Idran flops down on their stomach at Hellion’s side, sighing and rubbing at their eyes before dropping their head into their folded arms. Hellion feels a twinge of sympathy. Hellion at least doesn’t have to deal with eyestrain. After a few moments, Idran sighs again, and then Hellion feels it as they turn their senses outwards, looking for Light while Hellion looks for movement. It’s a phantom prickle at the back of Hellion’s neck, a watching weight that Hellion feels settle on Hellion for a moment before moving on.
With that Hellion sighs too and focuses on the road. Some time passes in silence; they mostly ran out of things to say a few hours in. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence, at least, not like it might have been a few months ago. It just is. Hellion feels Idran stretch a bit, and then go still again. They’re a line of warmth down Hellion’s side, and that had been...distracting, for the first few hours. Eventually, though, it had settled into just being another fact of this whole shitty job. ...one of the less shitty ones, though.
Some more time passes. The road stays empty.
The first sign Hellion has that something is happening is the vague sense of that watching weight faltering a little. Not much and not for long, enough so that Hellion almost writes it off as Hellion’s imagination. Then it happens again. And again. And then just as Hellion is about to turn and ask Idran what the hell is wrong with you, it fades completely, and Hellion feels Idran sag against Hellion’s side. Hellion jerks, and finds annoyance replaced with concern. Hellion leans back from the scope and turns to look at Idran -
Only to stop cold when Hellion sees Idran’s face, tucked into the crook of their elbow. Their eyes are closed, and even though their brow is furrowed there’s a particular sort of laxness to it that - but it can’t -
Hellion cautiously reaches out to poke at their Light, and finds it moving in the slow and formless way that can only mean yes, Idran really has fallen asleep.
Hellion is nonplussed. Part of Hellion is annoyed again, because the target could come any minute, and if they fuck it up because Idran isn’t on the ball then Hellion will have their fucking head, literally. Part of Hellion is impressed, because even in sleep Idran’s Light is still suppressed.
And part of Hellion is...still concerned. That Idran has fallen asleep like this. And confused. And surprised. And a little bit wondering. Because Idran has fallen asleep like this, next to Hellion. Hellion is sure that no matter how exhausted Idran is, if they didn’t trust Hellion enough to watch their back while they slept, they wouldn’t have fallen asleep at all. And Hellion...doesn’t know what to do, with the knowledge that Idran apparently trusts Hellion that much.
Hellion stares at them for a long minute, strangely loathe to wake them. They both have their helmets off at the moment; some stray wisps of hair have escaped from Idran’s ponytail and fallen into their face. Hellion is struck by the sudden urge to brush them out of their face, to run a fingertip over that furrow and smooth it away, and as Hellion is thinking these nonsensical things Idran frowns a little and presses closer to Hellion’s side and okay, no, that’s enough.
Hellion kicks Idran’s leg and watches them jerk awake and tries not to regret it.
“You fell asleep,” Hellion says when Idran looks over, confused, and tries to ignore the several expressions that flash across their face at that information before settling into familiar, careful blankness.
“...sorry,” they say, after a long moment
“Your turn,” Hellion says instead of responding. Idran looks at Hellion for another long moment, and then trades places without a word.