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Tsurai hmphed and followed Isiah's lead, leaving Q to his own devices.
Despite The other man seeming to get lost multiple times, he stayed mostly silent, taking in his surroundings and looking at how the world had changed.

Eventually they finally managed to find the bar Isiah had mentioned before, and Tsurai wearily looked around, his sneakers carelessly crunching over broken glass.
He followed Isiah's movements, not really searching too much for himself.

Flinching at Isiah's command, he hung his head and did as he was told, and looked around in the kitchen, opening up cupboards and looking under pieces of... probably fallen shelves or tables.
He yawned rather boredly, wondering what he was going to do with this new freedom. He decided he'd let Isiah handle it for now-- he already had seemed to take control over the situation.
Though he did have his doubts. What made Isiah an expert in what to do in this certain situation?

Tsurai continued to look despite Isiah coming in to check on him.
"Not really," the eighteen year old grumbled, keeping his back to the other man.

A few seconds later, he finally decided to throw in the towel and turn around, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "Did you?"

Tsurai gave a questioning look to Isiah. He was only 5'5", his brown hair in disarray and uncared for. He was skinny, ribs showing and his jeans close to falling off from the girth he'd lost in the vault. It was clear Tsurai had never had much fat on him, but he looked almost gangly now.

He'd started out rather white but was beginning to tan rather dark and quickly - something he'd received from cherokee blood in him. His blue eyes were encased in confusion for a moment at Isiah's "joke", but emptied soonafter, clearly devoid of much thought.

Tsurai had no shirt and the darker he tanned, the more prominent the scars lacerating his back became. There were stab wounds and scratches, a miscellaneous array of things that probably should stay unmentioned. He'd lost most of the feeling in his back because of those scars, but tried not to show it.

The eighteen year old squeezed his forearms while they were crossed, looking up to the half-caved in ceiling of the area they were in.
"Why not stay here for now? Maybe wait for that other guy to catch up."
The statement was tinged with annoyance as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"It's hot anyway, and no shade out there, really..."

Tsurai looked away, thinking over the answer to the man's question.
"It's not like we haven't been living without it for long enough," he said, referring to the food and water.

" I don't know, though. He might. I pegged him more for the helpful type than you, anyway."
He looked to Isiah's eyes, studying them. "Why did you decide to help me, anyway?" he narrowed his gaze a bit, suddenly cautious.

Tsurai rolled his eyes.
"He never did anything. Neither did you. According to your rules then why bother being friends with me? I'm the one everyone had a problem with. Everyone just hated him 'cause he's french. And you 'cause you got... Cool tattoos I guess, I dunno. You were always reading that book, minding your business."

He gave a small frown. "I don't even know if we ever passed names around. I can't remember yours if we did."

"Hunh," he smirked, a little more interested in the conversation. "Mine's Tsurai." Their names sounded similar. What a coincidence.

"That try to look so badass look doesn't really work with me. So you can lay off the act," he said, getting a bit cocky, looking out a broken wall to the barren wastelands that was the outdoors. He was almost afraid to go back out there.

"... Although what you did back there, when they were throwing me out- that was pretty cool," he said softly, relenting.

He took his hands from his chest and shoved them in his pockets, suddenly feeling a bit naked and wishing for a shirt. He'd had one before the fallout but he couldn't remember where it had gone. Probably had taken it off sometime in the vault because he was hot. The boy didn't wear any sort of underwear, either, and as the pants sagged it had become blatantly obvious.

Tsurai didn't have anything to prove but he felt threatened by this guy, at least subconsciously, and now he wanted to cover up. But it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't like there were just clothes lying around for him to pick up, and he definitely wasn't going to ask Isiah for anything.

Tsurai exhaled loudly, following Isiah when called. "Yeah, I guess."

He jogged up to Isiah outside, sticking by his side, as if being out in the big bad world by himself would be something dangerous. As they walked together, he couldn't help but ask the questions he'd been wondering all this time.
First, the main one...

"So, uh, you probably get this a lot but..." he looked away as he walked, sort of embarrassed. "Why so many tattoos?" He turned to Isiah again. "Do they mean anything?"

"You don't have to lie to me, geez." he shrugged, shaking his head, running his left hand through his hair. He took the string out from his ponytail and tried to tighten it back up as he walked. He wished he could cut his stupid mob.

"If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to."

He scowled, his eyes not hurt much by the sun at all as he walked. He could tell it was going to be a long and awkward one. A few minutes later, he tried to pick up some type of discussion again, after giving up on his hair. He wish he at least had a rubber band as he now flowed down to his shoulder like a woman's. He grimaced at the thought.

"So... Where are you from?"