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"Georgia," Tsurai answered. "I came up here for a transfer and things got ********. Obviously." He tossed the string that used to hold his hair in the street behind him, his voice taking on a new tone. As if it was just a business meeting, now.

"Brian didn't want to stop business during the war. More customers, he said. We came up here to... ********, I don't really remember. Probably merge with someone. I don't deal with the big stuff. I was just transporting when the bomb hit. Got my a** out of there when the alarms went off. Good thing. I hope Brian's dead."
The last words were heavy-handed, as if this brian guy had done some considerable wrongs to Tsurai and death would be the only retribution.

His voice turned to a happier tune, afterward. Quizzical. "What'd you do for a living?"

Tsurai stopped for a few moments, going quiet. Eventually he picked up the pace to catch up with Isiah. "No," he said. "I don't know."

He waited a few seconds, before crossing his arms over his chest again, as if a symbol of closing himself off. He didn't want to talk anymore, and would continue the walk quietly.

Tsurai was tired and weary, but no more weary than any other person from the vault. There was no point in complaining or asking to rest. Isiah seemed like he knew where he was going, so Tsurai just rolled with it.

Which meant that when Isiah asked to stop, Tsurai humbly obliged.
"Yeah, sure," he said, complacently, but all too quickly sat his butt down and leaned his back against a slab of cement, closing his eyes with a yawn.

He could go to sleep right now, even. And it wasn't long before he did, his hands over his bare chest. It was rather cold, but that didn't prevent his exhaustion from taking over.

An hour or so later, Q had his sunglasses on the top of his silver hair, his green eyes seeming to shine in hidden moonlight. He had followed the others' tracks, and was tossing a can of creamed corn from left hand to right as he walked up to the sleeping pair.

He stopped to look over them, holding the can in an half-extended left arm, his eyes latching onto Tsurai for a few precious moments. He finally seemed to tear himself away, looking instead to Isiah, and began to toss the can up and catch it repeatedly with simply his left hand.
He gave a short whistle, figuring it'd wake the older of the two up, as Tsurai seemed to be passed out. When Isiah didn't awaken, he stepped forward and gave the sleeping man a light kick in the leg with his foot.

Q caught the can one last time in his left hand and presented it to the tattooed cop wannabe.
"Hungry?"
A suspicious smirk crossed his face then, though he doubted Isiah could see it.

Q snorted at the 'finally made it' remark.
Truth be told, he had sat in agony waiting for the day to be over. He'd ended up sleeping face-down for most of it.
He was nocturnal, his eyes sensitive to light, hence the sunglasses, which weren't on presently. His eyes were a problem that had been getting progressively worse. They didn't know how to fix it. Q tried not to think about it too much.

Q bent forward, continuing with his act, holding the can in front of Isiah's face, close enough so he could smell the metal and maybe even read the label.
But after a moment, he quickly pulled away, standing straight up and tossing it in his hand playfully again.
"Oh, it's too bad we don't have a can opener," he mocked, a quiet chuckle following.

There was a can opener in his pocket. He'd done a much more thorough search of that pub's kitchen than Tsurai had.

"Guess I'll just have to chuck the dead weight..." Q mused, tossing the can a bit higher, catching it in his right and holding it by his side for the time being.

He watched Isiah's face, waiting to be entertained by his easily-played emotions.
But he'd soon change the subject.

"You know I didn't peg you the type to lust after little boys, Isiah."
Yes, he knew Isiah's name. He had actually paid attention in the vault, and could remember. He had a rather good memory, actually.
"I wonder if that makes you feel like more of a man?"

He tossed the can once, would've spun it on his finger if he had the ability.
At each sentence, he stood a little straighter; prouder. Although Tsurai had been the one dishing the racist comments before, it still felt good to have the upperhand against someone, even if it was undeserved.

Q figured Isiah would be much too tired from his walk and lack of food to retaliate physically. So he kept on.

"Don't worry, though. I won't tell the kid about your secret."
He tossed the can from his right hand to his left, then to Isiah. "Here; catch."

Q's gaydar was well-equipped. Isiah wasn't his type and never would be, but it was fun to play around with the man. It was obvious to him, how Isiah tried to cover up. Isiah must think gays were mostly effeminate, not that Q didn't push that view at all. Isiah was possibly even a homophobe. He wasn't quite sure yet.

But one thing was sure.
If it walked like a f** and smelled like a f**.... It usually was. What?
Oh, yes...

His eyes briefly wandered back over to Tsurai, hoping the boy would stay asleep in all this.

Q shrugged in response. That wasn't quite the reaction he was expecting from Isiah, and he wasn't as entertained now. Oh well. Q could make do.

"You never know," he said, his voice raised slightly. "Too risky to ******** in the barracks."

He gave a small chuckle to himself, shifting his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. He allowed himself a minute to calm down before looking back to Isiah and making a last comment.
"Nice tattoos, by the way."

Q exhaled roughly through his nose at the question, and glanced over to the boy before answering.
"...Company," he finally relented.

After a short pause, he looked to Isiah. "I'm not stupid. I know I can't just wander around by myself. I wouldn't make it."
He paused again, debating if he actually wanted to say the next part.

He did.
"Besides, we're away from all the others, now. It's good to be around people who have...." How to word it. "Similar interests, I should say."

Q Let out a single, loud "Ha!" then covered his mouth.

Tsurai, thankfully, only groaned a bit and shifted position, not waking up.
Sound sleeper, he seemed to be. Good to know.

After he was sure Tsurai wouldn't be woken, he looked back to Isiah. "I'm not interested in you," he shot back in a hushed tone, as if he were insulted. "I'm just saying it's good to hang out with someone's who's not straight. Peer group, or whatever it is. I just kept to myself in that vault, because I am foreign, and I hate people like that. I was only at the pub because I wanted a break from..." Here, he hesitated, but only for a moment, "My job," he finished.

"I always drink on my breaks. But I was leaving soon so I didn't get a chance to scope out a nicer place." He hmphed. He had to think about why he was at that shitty bar to begin with.

What was he doing the day of the bomb? It all seemed like a blur now, which was weird. One would think he'd remember that day in full detail since it was so important.