The pile of elbows that cradled Danny's not-sleeping-but-trying-to head shifted slowly as he looked up, tired blue eyes blinking once and fixing onto Adam. "Your voice. It's loud." Sighing, he slumped down again, thick unruly locks spilling over bare arms and a tightly-bandaged wrist. "Stop that."

Two hours sleep. A sprain. And there was still ash in his hair, he was sure of it. Not a great day, all told - and it had barely even started. "'Death-trap' is a strong term. I'd call it a gank squad." His words were muffled, but still perfectly audible. "Anyone else thinking of skipping math this afternoon?"