What the fuck was Jackson doing, sitting with his back against the wall right outside the pillow fort? That was the question he was asking himself right about now, too, as he was waking up.

The answer involved being in control of himself enough to not necessarily need to be locked up, and some vague need for companionship when other people were having their tiny kid fun. Or something. He didn't want to talk about it.

He rubbed his eyes and considered getting up and bailing before he'd have to actually speak to anyone.