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Bornes grumbled to himself when Isiah picked him up. He would've muttered some choice comments about how he didn't need to be picked up, but by the time Isiah had said his words about not falling asleep, Bornes was already more than halfway there.

And once they found what appeared to be a large office building, Bornes was well into his fever-induced slumber.
Upon going inside the mostly still upright building, it was quickly found to be a school. Desks and books all in disarray, with dust everywhere. What irony.
All the windows were blown out and one had to be careful of glass shards in the carpeting, but the hallways were mostly clear.

Bornes slept for most of the night, though it was restless. Around midday he had finally drifted into an actual sleep, where his nightmares persuaded his legs to jerk slightly, his breath loud through his mouth. Intermittently and infrequently some semblance of a bark would escape him, but after about an hour all was done and the fever had broken. Bornes went back to restless slumber, the cold tile floor soothing against his sweat-soaked skin.

When the sun set he was still quite tired and irritable. Slightly nauseous, he didn't want to eat or drink anything. His grey hair stuck to his face and was mostly flat against his head. His tail? Strangely dry. Despite Bornes' predicted recovery, he still kept breathing through his mouth. He had done so from the beginning of this debacle and all through his sleep.

Bornes backed himself away from Isiah, leaning his back against the lockers while he quietly watched Isiah eat his fill. When the man looked preoccupied, Bornes began to look to his injury, and after a brief frown, started to pick the scab and puss away with his fingernails, holding his breath in an effort to not make too much pain-related noise.

The puncture was gross, but Bornes had it in his head that picking it all off was just a way of dry cleaning. While the blood caked under his nails, he wondered if he'd bleed too much and lose consciousness again. The thought quickly left his mind once he realized just how stupid a thought it was. He was picking a scab, not pulling out some stitches.

Much to his dismay, however, he did begin to bleed more than he was predicting, and grabbed his shirt, pushing a black sleeve to his puncture wound. He felt his familiar headache coming on, but he knew there wasn't quite enough bloodloss to faint. That would just be silly.

As he pushed the sleeve to his side and held his breath, his eyes wandered over to the dog, who seemed to be watching him. Judging him, even.
How stupid are you? the beast seemed to say. Scabs help, not hurt.

Bornes threw a guttural growl to the dog, as if to say What do you know?!
It was short; a warning. The animal quickly averted its gaze, whined slightly and edged closer to Isiah.

That was more like it. Stupid b***h, he thought to himself.

Bornes glared at Isiah as the man allowed the dog to lick his fingers. The hybrid's glare narrowed once Isiah accused Bornes.

"You don't know that for sure," he hmphed, pressing the sleeve harder into his side with a slight wince. Hopefully the bleeding would abet soon. He didn't want to take the fabric off to test.

"Why did you feed it?" he growled. "You said you weren't going to. You lied to me." Bornes considered the licking of Isiah's hand feeding.

Bornes' eyes narrowed in a vicious glare.
"You just fed it," he convicted. "Why would you be so stupid to lie to my face about it?"

He hmphed, removing his sleeve from his side, getting up and putting back on his shirt, but not buttoning it up. He was going to leave; going to explore the rest of the building.

"That's disgusting," he quipped, walking down the hall.

Really, he just wanted to get away from Isiah. He had too much of a headache to deal with another person and their dog right now. He was too used to being alone, and being alone was what he wanted to do right now.

As he walked, he looked around the halls, at the doors. He was looking for one place in particular- the library. When he found it, he walked into the area, out of Isiah's line of sight.

Maybe he could lose himself in some english book from the media center at this school. Assuming there were any books whose pages had not been eviscerated.

"I can still hear you," he grumbled to himself, at the high pitched Isiah who was probably out of earshot.

It was all right, though. Bornes had made it to the library. Most of the shelves had toppled over, and there were many books. He squatted to a rather large pile of hardcovers, reading their titles, casually searching through their contents. Some of them, when he opened them up, tore in his hands. He tossed those to the side.

He eventually gave up on the search in his current pile and moved to take books from underneath the protection of fallen shelving. Most of those books were thin but large in size, children's books. Perhaps this was a primary school?

He opened up a green one. The ink had faded and he could barely make out the image of a two adults and a child. His eyes lingered for a moment, but he eventually pulled himself away and tossed the book aside.

There was nothing worth reading here.

Bornes stood up and started to walk toward other rooms.

He opened all the doors and looked into all the different classrooms. One he finally walked into, and, near the broken window, pulled up an overturned desk and righted it, sitting in the chair with his hands on the desk and looking toward the board, which had something written on it, but was too faded and whisked away by age to read.

Bornes studied the whiteboard and then looked around him, trying to remember what it was like to sit in this very seat, to react to a teacher in a room very similar to this one.
Wallowing in his nostalgia was not a very happy process, and eventually he found himself letting out a pout and laying hsi head over crossed arms on the desk. He coughed a few times to cover up what he really wanted to do, and then fell into a half-sleep, his tail falling out the side of the open seat, limply.

Bornes heard Isiah walking around and shouting, which awoke him from his half-slumber. However, he just gave a sigh and looked toward the whiteboard from the spot in his chair.

Once Isiah found the Room Bornes was in, though, the hybrid looked over to him lazily.
"Why?" He asked softly.

He laid his chin on his crossed arms on the desk with a sigh through his nose.
"There's no where to go."

Bornes pushed himself from the desk, sitting up and eying Isiah with a forlorn expression on his face.

"And where are we supposed to find fresh water?" It was a rhetorical question, as he continued to talk.
"Once we run out of supplies, what are we going to do? I never thought about it in the vault. Well, I suppose I did.. A bit.. But not to this extent. I always thought that.."

He laid his right hand on the desk and raised his left, speaking with it.
"I always thought there would be something up on the surface, that life would be exactly how we left it; it had just been on pause but." His hand dropped and looked at all the broken glass on the floor.

"There's nothing. There's just nothing. When we run out of supplies, we're done."

Bornes stood up from the desk and glared at Isiah, becoming defensive.
"And how do you know that dog didn't just make it into someone else's vault? It had to have been a pet. What if some other people, just like us, came out, but they had this dog. And then they ran out supplies because they kept feeding it. And they died, so it just found a new set of losers to hang with?"

His green eyes moved to place an evil stare at the shaggy mutt. "It's a parasite. There's no way a dog that tame could survive by itself."

He looked back to Isiah, searching for... Something. Anything. Some type of relief from the stress that had just surmounted.

This place brought back bad memories.