Junkrat has already gotten comfortable in his hammock by the time Roadhog comes out. He hears the footfalls and the labored breath below him, and he figures that the other finally decided to come join him in his stargazing...but apparently not.

When he hears his voice call out, Junkrat sits up and peers over the edge of the railing. The moon is just waxing gibbous, but the stars alone cast the area in enough light to see without issue--even through the tinted lenses of Roadhog's mask.

"I'm not."

While most people would interpret his tone as tough shit, what he actually means is that, while he recognizes that Hog has earned some well-deserved rest, Junkrat has been too wound up by the fact that he's finally showed up and will likely spend hours sleeplessly tossing and turning and inevitably keeping Roadhog away from the sleep that he needs. Junkrat needs a few minutes to let his mind run in circles to tire itself out first before he can actually sleep.

He knows what Roadhog was implying--by coming out here just to tell him that he was tired--that Junkrat needed to come down and join him in bed in order for either of them to sleep. Junkrat has had two months to get used to the idea of sleeping alone, but Roadhog hasn't. Still, it's just as easy to fall into old routines, comfortable habits, and having conversations with far less words spoken than what is being said.

"Think ya can make it up here?" Junkrat asks, gesturing his head over his shoulder. "Hammock's big enough for ya."