scavenger.

5 - lucky jace

Jace was startled the next morning by the door sliding open, and Anri entering, her slender fingers effortlessly weaving neat braids into her wild hair. She squinted around groggily, her eyes still adjusting to consciousness, and then her gaze fell to his. Voice husky, she asked, "You seen my satchel?"

Jace quickly patted around until he found it, by the window. He tossed it at her and--before he could regret it--she quickly plucked it from the air before going back to her braiding.

He then noticed the massive scar on her stomach.

How had he never noticed before? It was obviously an old wound--very likely a blast wound, just like his own. Before he could study it further, she turned and left the room again, humming some melody.

Slowly, Jace sat up, wincing slightly as a sharp pain shot through his torso, and threw his feet over the side of the bunk. He couldn't stay here like this too much longer while she did all the work. He didn't like being...pampered. He never had.

When he came out of the bunks into what appeared to be the common room, holding onto the side of the wall for support, Jace found Anri tying up her boots, the soles of which were practically worn through. Her stomach was again obscured from view by the cape she had pulled over her shoulders, and nestled in her braids was a pair of goggles that were in much better condition than practically anything else on her person. Jace had noticed this in passing yesterday, but she wore a lot of gaudy jewelry. Her ears were pierced in nearly every possible place and adorned with gold--fake gold?--and her wide, obviously oversized pants were tapered at the ankles, where a pair of mismatched anklets jangled as she put her feet down. Anri stood to grab a scarf from one of the shelves in the room and practically leapt out of her skin when she saw Jace standing there. By the time she realized it was him, her hand had already flown to the holster on her belt, where Jace was somewhat surprised--but really shouldn't've been--to find a blaster nestled in its sheath.

"Iye!" Anri cried angrily. "What are you doing up? Go lay back down!" Her voice had an impressive authoritative boom to it. Jace almost felt like he was back in boot camp.

"I want to help," Jace said calmly. "I can't just--"

"The fuck you can't!" she stormed. "You want to start bleeding out or something? Die sinking in red sand like hundreds of the other poor bastards around here? Get back to your bunk." And then, seeming to realize she was being harsh, she added--"Please."

"No," Jace asserted. "I'm here because you wanted my help. So let me help you." Meeting her glare, he sighed and lifted his shirt, gesturing to his bandages. "Look, my wound is better already. Barely hurts. And if it opens again, we'll find a doctor, won't we?"

Anri stared at him, long and hard, before turning away, grabbing the scarf. "You'll slow me down."

"I'll keep up."

"It's a full day of near-nonstop walking."

"Nothing I haven't done before. Under worse conditions."

"You won't even know what to look for."

"Actually," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I went snooping around here and there yesterday, so I kind of have an idea of what needs fixing and replacing."

"You were up yesterday?"

Indignant, Jace shouted—"Anri, you can't expect me to lay helpless in that bunk the whole time while you're out busting your ass for scraps of food!"

Her eyes widened at his outburst as she tugged her scarf around her head. The room was starting to get dark again. Jace closed his eyes.

"Look," he started, "I--"