Allison's eyebrows pushed up, only a second before she's pushing the rest of her self up. Silent feet on the carpet, communicator left behind without a glance, and pushing straight through her own door, the scant handful of steps to his, and pushing straight through that one, too, fingers not even lingering on the doorknob as she invades the dark of his bedroom in just as easy, even strides.

"This is pretty pathetic if this is what I'm supposed to be afraid of facing." It's all sass, but there's no waver to the arrogance, disdain, and the current of almost laughter right under both of those. Considering him, still in a blanketed mound in the dark, on his bed. Even if he could, she has no real doubt of him. That he could. If he needed to. If someone came in guns, or fists, blazing.

But they won't. It's the middle of the night. In the middle of Nonah.
And he's not going to punch her in the dark. (At least she's about 98% sure.)

Sure enough that all she does is pad toward his bed, stopping about a foot away from it, and without waiting, give a wave her hands for him to move further back, with all the serious imperiousness of someone who has a right to their directives being unquestioned. "Scoot already."