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Isiah rolled over as the sun hit his face, groaning inwardly as his face hit cans through the thick canvas of the duffel. He sat up with a grunt, rubbing his forehead. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, groaning quietly before he opened up the duffel to shuffle through the cans, finding the can of spaghettios he'd never gotten the chance to finish, taking his knife from his back pocket to cut the top off, flicking it away before chugging the lukewarm noodles and corn syrup. He ran his tongue over his lips, sighing. The previous night's short conversation wasn't exactly fresh in his mind- after all it had been dulled by six beers and the sleep that followed, but it was there, nagging insistently.

He tossed the can away with a sigh, shutting his eyes, leaning back against the brick wall behind him. He heard the quiet pads of four feet, followed by the can scraping across the ground as something moved it- he opened one eye and smiled wide, opening his arms. "Kaie!"

Kaie looked up from the can, wagging her tail once or twice before returning to it, licking it clean before walking to pick up the lid, carrying it over to him to drop it into his lap before lying down next to him. He chuckled, wiping off the excess to hold out his finger to her, letting her lick it clean before petting her enthusiastically, tugging on her loose skin around her face. "I knew you'd be okay, girl," he assured as he petted her, her tail thumping on the dusty ground. "Just knew."

Kaegan appeared around the corner of the wall, leaning against it. "Miss Jane, are you introducing yourself?"

Isiah looked over at him with disbelief. "... Jane?" He frowned deeply. "She's.. yours?"

Kaegan nodded, a little displeased that Jane was more enamored with Isiah than she was with him. He'd let it slide just once. She went where she was needed, after all. "Found her a few months after we set up this place.. but she ran off a few months ago. Had no idea what happened to her. Then yesterday she just up and showed up." He knelt down beside her, the dog separating the pair as he scratched along her ruff with a chuckle.

Isiah sighed. "She uh. Well. She found us, I guess. Me and Bornes," he offered quickly, releasing Jane from his touch. "I figured she was a stray."

There was a long pause between them- the dog had provided the tiniest basis for conversation, but that was all there was and now there was nothing left to say. Kaegan took a deep breath, standing up, brushing off his knees. "... Your friend came to talk to me last night."

Isiah quirked a brow upward, a little confused. ".. Bornes did?"

"Tail boy, yeah," Kaegan quipped, shrugging. "Worried about you, I guess."

"That's strange," Isiah grunted. "He certainly doesn't seem it most of the time." He stood up in turn, bending over to zip up his duffel bag. He stood up, rolling his sore neck on his shoulders.

"Well, he did. He's all right." He shrugged. "But he wanted you to know, I guess, that you can stay if you want. I don't care if you join up or not." He turned his head away. "You'll be in the minority but I'll keep things peaceful."

Isiah turned his head away in turn, avoiding eye contact. "... Yeah, he figured. Before he talked to you." He bit the inside of his cheek. "Thanks."

"No problem," Kaegan quipped quickly, snapping his fingers to have Jane stand up and walk over to his heel. "You let me know if you two need anything." He coughed into his fist to clear away the awkward feeling before walking away, Jane trotting after him, tongue lolling.

Cyrus was a few houses down, roused from his half sleep- the pcp in his cigarette hadn't allowed him to sleep until the sun had begun to rise that morning, and the few hours he'd had were fitful at best. He stood and brushed himself off, ducking his head out of the window to get an eyeful of Q curled up against the wall a few doors down. He dug through his coat pocket, currently hung on the back of a makeshift chair, pulling out the laced, hand rolled god knows what smokables before grabbing a lighter and heading over to him. He plopped down beside him, putting one between his teeth to light it. "Smoke, drunky?"

Cyrus scrambled to pick it up, blowing off the dust that had accumulated before taking a long drag, blowing the smoke in Q's direction. It smelled... off. "I slept at night, werewolf," he offered with a low chuckle. His free hand ran down Q's neck and back to the base of his tail, lifting it up out of curiosity.

Cyrus chuckled, following after him with a broad smile, taking another long drag before blowing it toward Q. He waited until he rounded the corner, back into the sun, before pushing him facefirst against the brick wall, pressing his pelvis against his a**, holding the cigarette in his teeth as he spoke. "Just play nice," he hissed. The unmistakeable sound of a switchblade opening rang in Bornes' ear, the tip dragging up the brick wall before it was pressed against his side.

Cyrus took another long puff, blowing it over him, running the knife down his side to his belt- he applied pressure to his belt, cutting through the worn leather and splaying open the threads of his dress slacks, and then through the elastic of his boxers before yanking his pants down. "... Silk," Cyrus said with a chuckle, cigarette bouncing on his lip. "You're a classy slut, aren't you?"

Cyrus pushed his nose through the back of Q's hair, parting it, the cigarette burning against the back of his neck, groaning as he began to open up his belt, his knife now pressed against the top of a particularly sensitive spot on Q's boxer front. "You smell like s**t," he hissed. "Don't you, puppydog?"

Isiah had spent his morning exploring the meager town, finding the ins and outs- he was scoping out a place for him and Q to stay, seeing as most of the good units were taken. He was sure Kaegan had picked out the best for his denziens and allocated them according to rank but.. he was sure along the outskirts he'd be able to find something that'd work.. He was distracted when he heard the high pitched whine of a dog. At first he was afraid that Q had found Jane and was doing something awful to her- but as soon as he caught sight of Cyrus his demeanor changed. Isiah charged him, from behind, taking hold of his knife hand to yank it up and away from Q's flesh, bending it behind him, taking hold of his other shoulder in hopes of dislocating it, pulling his arm in one direction and pushing his shoulder in the other. Cyrus screeched, the cigarette falling from his mouth- Isiah inadvertantly put it out with his boot, hissing. "You old ********," he hissed, yanking hard. Cyrus chuckled. He too, was numb, the pain of his tendons ripping feeling more like a distant tingle, as if it was happening to someone else. Isiah grunted, unsatisfied with the pop that followed the dislocation before turning Cyrus away, pushing him face first onto the ground before lifting his leg to bring down a downward axe kick into his spine- he was frustrated when he heard no snap, just a clear yelp and hiss of air leaving Cyrus' lungs. He brought it down again, and again, the heel of his boot bloodying, finding different places along his spine until he placed it just along the back of his skull.

The breathing stopped. Movement stopped, too, save for the brief, fleeting twitches of his fingers and toes.

Isiah sighed, eyes rolling shut, shaking his head before heading over to Q, helping him up off the ground- during the scuffle he'd slid downward. "You all right?"

Isiah stood back after Bornes began to cry- he didn't... he didn't really know how to deal with it, or what to do. He knelt down beside him, extending a tremulous hand to lay it on his shoulderblade. "It's over," he insisted. "It's all over." He gulped, setting his jaw.

Isiah grunted as his hand was swatted away. Cyrus must have done something to him.. injected him with something, maybe. He hadn't really seen or smelled the cig yet, but it wasn't as though he'd take long to recognize the smell once he had. He pondered for a moment what to do with Q before he scooped him up, arms around his tightly should he struggle, dragging him into a covered room, laying him back down on someone's cot. They'd understand, whoever they were, and if they didn't he'd make them understand.