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Isiah groaned, watching her go, rolling his eyes at the obvious female weakness before slumping against the wall. "Give me my cigarettes and lighter out of my pocket kid. You're full enough of yourself to think I'd try to feel you up."

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes shut tightly as he struggled for words to say. "You know, kid, in this day and age, if you don't have a will to live.. you don't have anything. If you really wanted to die, you'd all ready be dead. Would have stayed in the vault and starved, or stayed with Cyrus until he killed you, or just lay down on the long trip here and waited for the sun to take care of you." His fingers twitched a little as he waited for his cigarettes.

"So I don't think you really want to die. As far as I'm concerned, you're just ******** lazy. The problem was solved. What the hell are you crying about? So the stupid b***h saw you bleeding! She obviously doesn't GIVE a ********."

He yanked his boxer shorts down as the legs were creeping up and revealing a bit much- he was glad Tsurai was on his front or the kid would have had a heart attack.

"I'm not old enough to give sagely advice, kid, but if I were, I would say go through with it. Because there's nothing to look forward to anymore." He was beginning to voice what he was feeling more than what he felt Tsurai should do, and it was obvious as his voice died down and became gritty and low. "You have to be a masochist to enjoy life."

Isiah dragged the cancer sticks and lighters toward him. Cyrus' supply had replenished his and he was a little less scant about using them. He lit his cigarette, groaning at the question. He took his first puff before answering, smoke punctuating his words.

"Yes, that's where the tatoos are from. I don't know how she recognized them. I had never thought that we were so widespread.." He dropped the lighter, setting the box of cigarettes aside, picking up the jar/bottle (?) of salve and eyeing it momentarily, wondering if he should use it.

He watched Tsurai's expression, trying to think back on his first experience that left him in the same situation. "Don't worry about it. The best thing would be a shower or a hot bath but I don't think water's a commodity we can afford right now. Nobody'll be able to tell through the camo." He took another brief drag on his cigarette before considering Tsurai's question.

"The reason I think people might think it's bad, kid, is that it's old. Older than Jesus. And traditions that go along with it are just as old." He blew smoke upward from the corner of his lip. "I dunno how much I should tell you, kid. It's dead now. Or at least, I hope it is. The troupe I ran with probably died in the fallout."

Isiah frowned a little. "I don't know if there's much that can be done to preven that, unless Alex never started using tampons."

His eyes ran down the black tattooing down his thighs and legs, groaning in the faint memory of the pain he had endured for something he had struggled to leave behind. He took another long drag of his cigarette, hoping to kill off the brain cells involved in the memory. "Well. What do you want to know?"

Isiah took another brief puff on his cigarette, blowing smoke from his nostrils. He readjusted his legs to give himself a little more decency. "Different tattoos for different things, kid." He watched Tsurai, shuddering inwardly with impotent anger at Cyrus. Not much more they could do to him.. but.. why Tsurai?

He knew the answer then immediately. Because Tsurai was easy, he thought. Like I was. Stupid. Trusting. In dire need of help and without an discrimination as to where they would get it.

He began to feel a hot tinge of jealousy in his gut- was it jealousy? It may have been fraternal rage at the man who had so hurt the boy who was in his protection. It was easier to think of it that way.

Isiah sighed, pulling his shirt up to get a better look at it, in an attempt to recall the memory. He was reluctant and that is why his answers were so short. Tsurai, however, was inable to take a hint. He frowned at first at his lack of definition, but understood that you needed protein to feed muscles, and it wasn't as though it had been raining steaks lately..

Though one hand was holding his shirt up, his other traced down the designs, struggling to pull the pieces together from his memory banks. "Battle of the Kanes.. I.." He paused. "It was a military conflict hundreds of years ago. A bunch of denziens died. Why'd they make me ink this crap?"

He gave Tsurai a wicked look. "Breast? Kid, it's a pec. Breast. You're gonna be a virgin the rest of your life." He finished his cigarette, pulling his shirt back down, hissing as the paper burnt to his fingers. He crushed the remainder into the dirt floor. He was done with questions and answers hour.