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Bornes gave a heh, his self-esteem jacked up for the day.
But as time passed, he tried to distance himself from Isiah, his pace decidely slower than Isiah's.

When it came time to eat and sleep, Bornes tried to stay as quiet as possible, though if the dog got too close to him he'd give it evil glares, and even a low growl if needed. He later curled into his ball and slept, though it was an uneasy rest, as he woke up many times in the middle.

By the next night, he was drowsy and irritable, and refused to take the duffelbag, if asked. His pace was again slower than Isiah's, and his posture was lacking the confidence it usually had. His brows were continually furrowed, and a few hours in he finally stopped and said "I need to rest."

Bornes loudly exhaled through his nose as he stopped walking and focused his attention to the shirt tied around his waist. He untied it and let it fall to the ground. He took a short step back as if his balance had wavered, and then unbuttoned his shirt all the way, exposing his mostly clean chest, except for where the nail had been. There, a large yellowgreen bruise had formed and the puncture point was clearly infected. Bornes let out a disgruntled combination sigh/groan and lifted his shirt over his head, too lazy to take his arms out of their long sleeves as he sat himself on the ground with a weary look on his face.

"That must've been one huge nail," he whined.
He couldn't imagine a normal-sized nail making him feel sick or tired.
Maybe pain with every step, which he also had, but not to this extent.

He put his hands in his lap with the bundle of his shirt with a hmph, his sunglasses falling to the ground carelessly from inside the jumble of cloth as they had been attached to his collar from before.
"Always thought you'd wear out before I would," he grumbled to himself.

Bornes forced a curt 'heh' at the peroxide comment. "Don't worry," he mused. "I don't think the beer has enough alcohol in it anyway."

He stared down at the antibacterial ontop of his crumpled shirt for a moment, debating. He finally hmphed, taking his arms out from his shirt's sleeves, the shirt turning inside out at the action. After this, he held up his shirt and grabbed his sunglasses, placing them on top of his head, then the ointment. He let go of the shirt to examine the ointment, as if it were some type of contaminate.

After a few seconds, he put the tube down in his lap, atop his crumpled shirt with a sigh. Time for something completely unrelated.

"Isiah, what is your father like?"

Bornes hmphed, taking the tube away from Isiah and giving him a "I'll do it myself" look. And he would. But later.
Bornes was sure waiting a few minutes wasn't going to make the thing infect any more than it already was. Besides, that wasn't the reason why Bornes had stopped.

He stopped because while he was in pain, he also felt as if he had a fever. And while it may be related, he was hoping it wasn't. He was simply tired and wanted to rest. Regardless, he had a follow-up question.

"What did he do when he found out about you?"

Bornes shrugged, trying to make it seem as if there were no weight to the question, though he knew from experience there was.

"Did he throw you out, and that is why you joined your... cult?"
He cocked his head slightly. Religious cults didn't really like gays, did they?
I guess it depends on what religion it was base don, he thought to himself.

Bornes wasn't a very religious man, but he knew of different cultures... At least what books there were about them, anyway. He'd been quite into the egyptian beliefs way back when-- if the giant golden ankh tattoo covering the whole of his back were any indication. Bornes was not proud of that tattoo, it and the facial tattoos were the only ones he had, and he was hoping due to the light nature of the ink on his back, Isiah wouldn't be able to see it in the dark.

Bornes sighed, taking a moment to look away from Isiah with some sort of sympathy, choosing to look to the tube of antibacterial ointment instead. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he moved his gaze to the animal laying a ways from them.

"Why didn't you just stop dating men? Or stop dating at all?" he looked back to Isiah, almost accusatory. "You could have stayed, then. Your father was not that bad to you, was he? Surely he was better than your... Cult...?"

Bornes snorted. "I suppose Father would've kicked me out if I had joined a pack which determined I get inked, as well," He visibly winced at his own mistake. "Cult," he corrected.

He hmphed again, and focused his concentration on opening the tube of ointment.
"I don't think it is difficult to stop dating," he mused, his brows creasing as he squeezed some of the ointment onto his left hand's first two fingers. "I did it."

He frowned slightly. He didn't know why he even bothered sharing any more. He decided to change the subject again, glancing toward the animal again. "Did you have a mother? What was she like?"

Bornes frowned, taking the oppertunity to actually apply the ointment to his wound. He grit his teeth as he did so; he was not very good with pain, never was.

After he was done, he still felt residual pain as he capped the tube and said "I never had a mother. I used to imagine if I would have grown up as a different person if I had," he said, his teeth still grit slightly.

After capping the tube, he wiped the excess slime off his hand and onto his pants, his tail tapping the ground slightly. "You never did anything with your mother?" he looked back to Isiah's face, trying to study him, but almost afraid to continue as well.

Bornes knew if he were in Isiah's position, he probably wouldn't bother answering at all. But Isiah had proven he had a penchant for simply telling the truth, even if curt. This made Bornes curious. He couldn't help himself.