~~~Superstes~~~UNDERGOING MAJOR EDITING

The unlikely adventures of

"Should we go in there?" Feya asked, her eyes round and worried. 

Lo'ak's answer was sure and immediate. He shook his head and reached for Feya's arm, "Nah, we better not. He'll get pissed off, and besides, if he needs something, he'll get it." 

Feya gave the boy a skeptical glance, unsure that his response was the right thing to do. Just days ago he was crying over his concern and fear for his brother, and now, he was suggesting they leave him alone. Lo'ak must have seen her distaste for his words and he quickly explained, "Neteyam hates the attention. If he's in pain, he doesn't want to be swarmed over or asked questions. He especially doesn't want it from us. Trust me, I know. Plus, Dad's in there." 

Feya became less concerned when she heard that Jake was in the marui, despite the fact that she hadn't noticed him inside. With one last look over her shoulder inside the marui, she and Lo'ak loped away towards the coral atolls where the fishing and activity was going on. 

They ended up playing fight club. 

                                                                                        ~~~

"Neteyam?" 

There was a couple of heartbeats of silence inside the large, spacious marui pod. Neteyam was crouched on his feet, his knees bent flexibly. His tail was sweeping the floor behind him as he concentrated hard on cleaning out the bowls from last night, his brow creased in a scowl. When he heard his name called, he looked up, his ears swiveling. 

His father had stepped out of the expanse of the marui where the kids slept, wearing his dagger in a strap across his chest, the curtain pulled back. His guns were strewn out across a few plastic box's that were lying against the wall. Jake came and kneeled down in front of his son, acting way to open. "What're you doing?"

"I'm... cleaning?" Neteyam stated, a little more sarcastically than he intended. There was still steroids and drugs pumping throughout his bloodstream, so his body felt stiff and sore, but at the same time antsy and jittery. The medication he was taking caused him to act a bit differently—it made him sharp and impatient occasionally, when he lost control of himself. But it really just made him more provoked. Neteyam immediately recognized his tone and looked down, "Sorry." 

"You don't have to apologize, kid." Jake reached over and took the dishes from Neteyam, before he set them to the side, demonstrating to him that chores weren't needed to be completed right now. "So...Is there a reason you're choosing to sit here alone and wash bowls?"

Neteyam shot a glare at his father before he leaned back on his butt and placed his hands in his lap, feeling quite grumpy at having to answer this question. He huffed in agitation, his tail flicking. "The bowls need to be cleaned. I can do that without—" he shifted, gesturing to his sides. "Moving my ribs too much." 

Jake hummed in response. "Have they been bothering you pretty badly? How's your head?" 

"They're fine, Dad." He avoided shooting another glare, but his chest was rising with subtle frustration. He didn't particularly like this part of himself, but he despised being pressed about his physical health. Mostly because he didn't like answering questions about his physical health. He found it embarrassing and a burden to others. He'd rather handle that stuff himself, alone, and in the peace and quiet. "You don't have to ask every day." 

"I'm your father, boy. I need to ask so I know you're okay." Jake seemed thoughtful, and cocked his head to the side. "Are you okay?" 

Neteyam located a stray bead on the floor which he picked up and rolled in between his fingers, his mind subconsciously looking for something to fiddle with. "Yes." He answered bluntly, his responses always short and straightforward when it came to his father. That was a product of being a soldier, and a warrior. No time for long, descriptive answers when you were in a battle. Just simple and coded phrases that could be understood.