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He nodded. "Cept don't try to stomach any noodles. Just try the broth. A little bit. Too much and your stomach might reject and it'd be a waste of a can of soup, y'know?"

Braeden stuck his lower lip out, chewing on the inside of his cheek, visibly thinking. "The only Denzien there, huh. I wonder what happened..." He spoke the last sentence a little more louder than was necessary so that Tsurai might try to answer.

He nodded. "Just a sip. If you feel hungry afterward, have a little more. But take it slow."

He frowned, groaning inwardly. There had to be some reason.. He hadn't seen any of Kaegan's other clanmembers since, and his clan hadn't split up for the crash.. after the escape from the vault, was a different story.

But Kaegan's boys? He continued chewing idly on the piece of jerky he'd started on. Strange..

"He didn't talk about his clan at all?"

He nodded grimly at Tsurai before turning to Isiah, watching the younger Denzien sleep. "He was right. It is hard. Or it was, before the clan broke up.. But it's worth having a family like that, y'know? All the people on the outside only saw the .. violence, you could call it. But nobody ever fought dirty, pulled a knife or hit someone while they were down. After it was all said and done we dress each other's wounds and move on. Can you imagine living like that?" He took another bite of the jerky, grinding his jaw hard to break it down. "Never holding a grudge? Problems are solved quickly when you live that way."

He looked back to Tsurai. "He might have had a hard time of it, for all his bragging. It's easy to be Ceta in a clan of fourteen people."

Braeden snorted, sneering, his upper lip rising. "Be careful. Bite the hand that feeds and you'll go hungry."

Braeden had no real power, especially since the peopling held the two in such high esteem- but fear tactics had always worked before. He swallowed hard, shoving what was left of his snack in his pocket. "Take it slow, kid."

Braden palmed his forehead, shaking his head back and forth slowly. "You know, kid, you're one of a kind." It was both an insult, and a compliment, in a wierd way. "Don't kill yourself, huh?"

He stood, taking thw ater jug he had brought with him before waving over his shoulder, returning to share someone else's space for the time being.

Isiah snored quietly in his place, turning over onto his side, gravel leaving it's imprint up his back.

Braeden did turn back around. He shrugged. "Give me a pack of his cancer sticks and I'll take a look at it."

Braeden wasn't.. exactly.. bitter about giving up his coveted space, even if it was ten by ten feet, to some greenhorn and his dog.. Why not get something out of it?

Braeden shrugged, taking the crumpled carton and tucking it into his front breast pocket. "C'mere." He opened his hands and pressed his palm against Tsurai's left shoulder after gently pushing Isiah's jacket aside- feeling with the flesh of his palm, shutting his eyes as he moved his hand over from the back of his shoulder to the front, milimeters at a time, pausing to push in gently- enough to cause minute pain- before pausing and opening his eyes.

"Did you dislocate it?"

Braeden frowned, in a strangely maternal way- the same way Isiah did, really- shaking his head back and forth. "You probably jerked it out of place. As I understand it, kid, when you dislocate, the sticky stuff that keeps your bones in the joints is torn- so if you keep moving it after it's been re-located, it'll never grow back and you WILL lose the ability to move it. You might have knocked it out again."

He dug into his breast pocket to fish out one of his newly won cigarettes. "Got a light?"