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"Oh." Really? He still felt indebted for the cigarettes she'd bought for him? Hadn't they already been over that? What's that why he was doing her laundry. That, and the fact that he enjoyed laundry. Weirdo. "Yeah, but you've been doing my laundry for a while now."

She brought her arm back up so she could lay her chin back in her upturned hand and found it was a little bit easier to look at him. Less awkward, less..

Just easier.

"Damn, that is steep." She gave a low whistle, then frowned as what he said sank in a little more. "Wait, why wouldn't Rep take your money. What happened?" She'd been privy to the few exchanges on twitter, but she was guessing something else had happened now. Something worse then a little over-forward flirting.

She grimaced. Knowing Rep, and knowing Taym, she knew damn well they ahd done more then had words, but she didn't press him. He was still alive, he didn't appear to be missing any limbs, and she hadn't seen any bandages. As bad as things had been, she knew they could have been worse. So her head dipped in a chin, and she slid her hand back through blonde curls to push them back and away from her face. "I see."

It had seemed inevitable that they should clash at some point. Peyton had been waiting for it it, so she wasn't surprised. Not particularly pleased either, but what could she do?

Nothing about them. But maybe she could do something about Taym's steadily shrinking supply of nicotine. And maybe she could also do something about the distinct lack of enough s**t to do on the island. Maybe. She kept it in mind. Twenty bucks was pretty steep for smokes, and she had to imagine the booze cost even more.

"You're okay?" She kept her voice idle, gaze dropping to the table and her unopened MRE.

She didn't bother to give any attention to the barely restrained temper that still managed to leak into his tone. Instead she flicked her eyes to peg him with look. "Because Rep is crazy strong, and probably wouldn't think twice before murdering you if you managed get on his bad side." The obvious answer. But she also added a little more. "And because even if I didn't see any bandages or injuries on your arms or face, that doesn't mean there isn't one hiding somewhere covered up."

Peyton shifted in her seat, leaning forward finally. "I'm allowed to be concerned about people." She was clearly aiming to cut off any bitchy retort that might boil up as a result of her being protective.

Thin shoulders rolled, followed by a dismissive upward flick of her eyes. Not quite rolling, but almost. His request for a subject change had her fishing around for something she knew would hold his attention, but that really only succeeded in reminding her that Maebe had managed to hold his attention, and it stole the smile right off her face.

Lavender met dark brown, lingering for a second, then dropped.

She tore her MRE open and started pulling out the various packets. "I miss real food."

Her lip curled, flesh pinching at the bridge of her nose as she made a face of obvious distaste. "I already am, which just seems worst some how. I don't even really taste what I'm eating anymore." Food. That was a nice safe topic they shared mutual interest in.

A close look at the biggest pouch showed she'd actually gotten something that wasn't awful. Not to say the military standard ravioli was anything to write home about, but it reminded her of the stuff out of a can her dad used to make for her and Astrid when they were little. With a sniff she tore into it and glanced around for a fork.

She took the fork with a quiet thanks, then dipped it into the pouch, fishing for a bite. It was still cold, she hadn't bothered with the clever little whatever the army had ingrained in the packaging to heat their meals up.

His comment had her pausing with a ravioli half raised to her lips, and she wondered if maybe he'd just let slip a little more then he'd meant to. She wouldn't draw attention to it, and maybe he wouldn't even notice, but she'd heard.

Except curiosity would win out in the end, and her lips pursed before she spoke. "What's atavistic?"

The sauce, when it hit her tongue, was bland tomato with only the barest hint of tang, but it was familiar, so she chewed, swallowed, took another bite. All without complaint. Not so much as a twitch of her lips.

A quick hand came down on her MRE packet and slid it out of his reach as she narrowed her eyes at him.

Now, usually she wouldn't care if he snagged her matches, what the ******** was she going to do with them anyways? But she knew he had a lighter, mainly because she'd bought him one. "Did you lose your lighter?" Even as she asked it she knew that wasn't the case. Not with how obsessively clean and organized he kept his room. Not with how attached he was to his smokes.

She eyed him, watching his face, but she did fish the matches out of the bottom of the MRE and held them up between her fingers for him.

Then, she grinned at him, and it should have felt familiar to the death trainee, because it was the same sort of smile he often gave her. A flash of teeth, feral and wild. A temporary window into the inner workings of the tiny blonde's head. "We're fine."