trans_9 | (no subject)

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When Orc woke up it took him five minutes before he had his first thought.

Dry.

His craggy lips felt entirely too dry. In fact his mouth, throat, his skin felt like he'd been sand blasted and thrown into the desert. The only moisture that he was aware of came when he slowly rose from the table to find a string of drool coming off his lower lip to a puddle on the table. Half of it was on his cheek, but he couldn't feel that.

His head began to pound as another powerful hangover settled in. How long had he been in this bar? He'd lost track of time.

That was fine, it was all fine. There was more beer here. He could wash away the pain in his head and subsequent painful thoughts. All he had to do was get himself out of the booth and over to the bar.

...

That might take more effort. He couldn't seem to will his heavy body to do more then sit up just yet. Days spent in a drunken stupor had caught up with him and were spinning his stomach like a blender full of misery and yuk.

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Having not had breakfast, Ian had made himself hungry with his description of a fry-up. "I know just the place," he said, and led Orc outside. "There's a cafe just down there." He pointed down the street. "We might have to serve ourselves, but I know how to fry things."

Orc's steps were slow and heavy, because he was still hung over...and made of rock. But he followed with the thoughts of greasy fresh and hot breakfast food to urge him on. How long had it been since he'd eaten anything like that? Even before they vanished his parents weren't in a habit of making full breakfasts.

"Thanks." He mumbled realizing he hadn't spoken since they left the bar, and this guy was treating him alright for what he was. Howard probably hadn't told him about Betty though.

Ian smiled at him. "You're welcome."

He led Orc to the cafe and found it open, but unmanned, so Ian went through to the kitchen and filled a pint glass with water. "Anything you don't want in your fry-up?" he asked as he handed the glass to Orc.

He shook his head and tentatively took the glass between his thick stone fingers. He had broken his share of glasses just by not being able to tell how hard he was squeezing them. And true to form a thin crack appeared in this one.

What really baffled Orc was why Ian was doing this. Did Howard put him up to it? Had he become a charity case now that he was no longer one of the most useful musclemen around? There were people much stronger and WAY smarter then him after all...

Ian looked in the fridge and the cupboards and remembered that they were on a spaceship where they didn't always have the same foods. So he found some things that looked like they'd fry - which wasn't hard because you could dry most things - and dumped them in a frying pan.

"What is your name?" he asked, belatedly realising that although he knew he was Howard's friend, Howard hadn't even mentioned his friend's name. "How are you finding life on Stacy?"

"Orc." His answer was automatic, the name his parents had given him just another scrap of humanity he left back in the FAYZ.

"It's alright...better then home." He mumbled. If he had normal skin just thinking about home would have made it shudder. Instead he sat in a chair that probably wasn't going to hold him for long.

"I'm Ian," he said in reply. Howard had said something about not wanting to go home. He supposed it made sense that Orc didn't like it there much either. "I suppose here no one minds what you look like."

"I guess not." And Orc sounded like he scarcely believed it himself. There were times when his self loathing could simply not comprehend WHY the other people on the ship weren't treating him like a freak or avoiding him like the plague. This seemed especially hard to believe when there weren't any other non-humans around.

Ian frowned. "Has anyone said anything to you to suggest otherwise?" He wasn't sure who would be brave enough to pick a fight with someone who looked like they could hurt anyone without a lot of effort.

With the food successfully cooked and not quite burnt yet, Ian dished it out onto two plates and took them over to the table Orc was sat at.

He shook his head confirming that in fact, no one had to this point even mentioned it really except for that one Doctor who thought he was an alien.

Orc's eyes shone brightly when presented with the food and wasted no time in shoveling it down like someone w ho had never quiet forgotten what it felt like to starve.

Ian watched him eat and wondered if he should have cooked more. He started on his plate a little more sedately. "Then it doesn't matter what you like look," he said. "We're all in this war together."

War. The word sound strange and heavy to Orc. War was something for grown ups. War was something that happened far away or in history books.

"It just matters what I do." He muttered and set his fork down on an empty plate. "Or what i've done." He added darkly.

Ian nodded. "Everyone can be useful, even in a small way." He wondered what Orc had done and whether it was a good idea to ask about it.

Well Orc wasn't bringing it up. Instead he mumbled "Howard said I should help rebuild the city." Not that Orc knew the first thing about building. Only destroying.

Ian ignored the fact he was mumbling. "That sounds useful. There are a few places that didn't come off very well after the robot attack and people would love to have them re-built."

"Yeah but I don't know about how to build stuff." Orc pointed out. "Just smashing stuff. Breaking stuff." He didn't seem to regret it, just pointing out a fact.

"You can learn. I'm sure someone will be willing to teach you, if that's what you want." He wasn't sure that breaking things would be quite as useful.

"I guess." Was Orc's incredibly non-commital response. He wasn't really sure what he wanted.

Well that wasn't true. He wanted to be normal.
Failing that he wanted to be drunk.

"It's up to you." There was only so much persuading Ian could do, especially for someone he'd only just met. "How's the hangover?"

"Better." He admitted giving just a slight nod. "Thanks for the food." He added. He was starting to feel awkward and he hated feeling awkward. He rose to his feet to leave, head spinning with thoughts unhindered by drink for the first time in weeks.

"You're welcome." Ian smiled at him, and as he left, picked up the plates to wash them.

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