The other menu is picked up in one swift motion, the feral boy's bleeding hands trembling slightly as he struggles to hold it. Nyx pretends not to notice, mainly keeping focus on his own menu. He can hear the wobbling sound of the laminate menu as his injured guest continues to fight with it, accompanied by grunts of frustration. As if adding to this, his shoulder has been burning the entire time. Nyx rolls it absently, hoping the pain will subside shortly.

    It does not.

    Across the table, the feral boy gives up on holding the menu and has taken to staring at Nyx instead. Large brown eyes rove curiously over Nyx's features before zeroing in on one area in particular: the right shoulder. Once focused, curiosity fades from the boy's eyes to be replaced by fear.

    Nyx raises an eyebrow. "Something wrong, mate?"

    The boy scowls and utter profanities under his breath.

    "Screw you too, kid," Nyx mutters, returning to scanning the menu.

    "Here are your drinks...is there anything else I can get for you right away?" The waitress interrupts. She warily looks from one boy to the next, fidgeting with her notepad. Nyx smiles at the girl to put her at ease.

    "I'll do a classic number one," he states, pointing to the menu.

    She nods and writes it down quickly before taking his menu, "And for him?"

    Both Nyx and the waitress look at the feral boy expectantly. He begins to snarl, so Nyx answers hurriedly, "Let's do some chicken fingers for him."

    "Just the fingers or a basket?"

    "Uuuhhmmm... Basket."

    "Alright. Burger and fries combo, chicken finger basket. Will that be all?"

    "That'll be all. Thank you."

    "Of course." Taking both menus, the waitress hurries back to the kitchen.

    Nyx watches her leave before turning back to the boy with a glare and a raised eyebrow. "I get that you're in pain, but couldn't you at least try to be a little more civil?"

    The boy flips him off, slumping deeper into his seat.

    Rolling his eyes, Nyx shoves the glass of water across the table. "Hydration. Drink up."

    "No." And with that, the boy snatches Nyx's glass of iced tea and gulps it down.

    "You little–" Nyx growls and reaches over the table, hoping to at least secure the water, but the feral boy knocks it over with a pointy elbow. Water cascades over the table, thoroughly soaking Nyx. This is enough to grant the feral boy enough time to attempt an escape.

    "Are you kidding me right now?!" Nyx yells, lunging forward to grab the escapee. He receives a painful bite on the hand, an unfortunate reward for his efforts to be a good samaritan.

    Wrestling the boy to the floor, Nyx is a flood of apologies as the waitress returns with their food. She looks most uncomfortable, a telltale sign that she is new to this job.

    "I'll...just set these here," she says softly, placing their meals on a different table and immediately moving to dry up the spilled water. "I'll grab some new drinks for you as well."

   "Thank you so much," Nyx nods. "I appreciate it." Holding the feral boy's face to the floor, he keeps the kid pinned until the waitress has once again left the scene. "You gonna be a good sod and eat, or am I gonna have to knock you out and ask for a to-go bag?"

    "You're heavy."   

    "Good. Feel the weight. And answer my question."

    "No."

    Brute force is often the only way to deal with stubborn individuals, so Nyx grabs the boy and forces him into the booth.

    "Do I...would you like me to call someone?" the waitress asks timidly. She has finished wiping up the water and has been standing there watching the struggle between them.

"Nah, it's okay. He's not hurting me." Nyx smiles at her, hiding the hand which the feral boy had bitten and is now swelling.
    "Are you sure?"

    "If we're too disruptive, we can leave," Nyx offers.

    She shakes her head, "Oh no, that isn't necessary...as long as you're okay..."

    "I got this." With a grin, Nyx shoves the feral boy into the booth and keeps him pinned there. "I'm really sorry if we've upset you at all."

     "No, no, it's fine. Enjoy your food."

     Once the waitress has departed, Nyx turns to the boy. "You'd better behave your damn self or you'll get both of us in trouble. Prison for me, euthanasia for you."

    "Doesn't seem like such a bad gig to me," the boy snaps through gritted teeth.

    Nyx glares. "Just eat." He releases the boy and settles into the seat across from him.

    The boy looks as if he's going to bolt for the door, but the smell of the food is somehow enough to get him to stay. He takes a cautious whiff of his meal basket, extracting a chicken finger and breaking it in half to inspect the meat inside. It is white, encased in a lightly seasoned breading. He sniffs it. It smells like normal chicken, not like those weird hybrid meats they've been serving up nowadays.

    He's not sure he can trust it, but it smells so good...

    Nyx has just barely taken a bite of his burger when he glances over and notices the boy's food is already half gone. The kid is hunched protectively over the little basket, shielding the food with his arms. It's such catlike behavior, Nyx can only laugh.

    Of course this earns him a harsh glare and a snarl.

    "Do not mock me," growls the feral boy. "And would you mind looking at your own food? I hate it when people watch me eat."

    "My bad, mate. Carry on." Nyx turns his gaze to his own food and proceeds to consume the juicy hamburger between his hands.

    "I don't even know why I told you that."

    "It's all good, pal. You just eat up and get your strength back. You're gonna need it for when we treat those wounds."

    "I can take care of 'em myself," the boy scowls, aggressively finishing off the rest of his food. Once it has been chewed and swallowed, he sits back in the booth with his arms folded and a glare on his face as he waits for Nyx to finish. He could easily leave, easily ditch this place and this weird guy, but something tells him that Nyx will only hunt him down again and that is not something he wishes to deal with at the moment. Let the dude have his way for now and ditch him later.

   "Need more food?" Nyx asks.

   "No."

   "Aight then. I'll go take care of the balance. If you move, I will hunt you."

   "Creep."

   "Oh you're just a whole barrel of laughs, aren't you." Getting up from the booth, Nyx makes his way to the register. The boy watches him, waiting until his back is fully turned before bolting for the door. Of course he's not going to go too far...just far enough that if this Nyx fellow wasn't careful, he'd never see the skinny lad again.

Of course, being that they were in Mordoor City, he is somewhat out of his element. He doesn't know these streets as well as the ones in Urbana. It's a disadvantage, albeit a slight one. He'd better be careful.

    Having dashed up the street and down an alley, he pulls himself into a culvert and waits, his ears alertly listening for Nyx. Sure enough, the sound of combat boots resounds over the pavement; his steps are assertive and filled with purpose. The diner door jingles as it falls shut behind him and he folds his arms.

    Huddled in the culvert, the boy has to cover his ears. Why is everything so loud all of a sudden? He can hear Nyx's skin...he can hear the bite marks...

    "Think you're clever, ey little punk?" Nyx's form overshadows the culvert's opening as he peers inside, sticking a hand out. "Come on out of there."

    The feral kid shuffles back at least a foot, withdrawing deeper into the corrugated tube.

    "Listen kid, you're still badly wounded. You need to get cleaned up before I let you go, alright?"

    All Nyx receives is a glare. Rolling his eyes, he reaches in and grips the boy's arms, hauling him out as if he were weightless. Then, to avoid any more incidents of this kind, he tosses the kid over his shoulder again. And, like the time previous, the kid is highly opposed to this sort of thing and promptly begins his self-defense tactics–all of which are slow and gradually growing less and less calculated. Nyx chalks this up to bloodloss and the amount of pain the boy must be in.
   "It won't be long, pal. Just hang in there," he mutters reassuringly as they weave through alleys and backroads.

    He carries the boy down one last alley to a modestly sized residence. Unlike their hometown, Mordoor City is prosperous enough to allow for suburban-style neighborhoods with actual houses rather than cramped apartment complexes. This little house has its own yard, small as it may be, with trees and even what appears to be a tree fort.

    Approaching the front door, Nyx uses his free hand to push the ringer, activating a dull tone.

    "Damn that's loud," the feral boy hisses under his breath.

   "You talkin to me mate?"

    "No!"

    Cutting the banter short almost instantly, the door is opened to reveal a curvy young woman in sweats and a tank top. She steps onto the concrete stoop in her bare feet, a smug sort of smile tugging at her red-tinted lips. "I thought you said practice was canceled today."

   "It is," Nyx responds. "I need a favor." He nods to the boy held limply over his shoulder.

    Eyeing Nyx's cargo up and down, the young lady's expression contorts to one of puzzlement. "What sort of favor?"

    "This little punk needs a bath and his wounds treated, and something to eat. Maybe some tea?" Nyx adjusts his hold on the boy, who promptly begins to growl.

    The girl looks skeptical a moment before nodding and stepping inside, pulling the door open further and gesturing for her friend and his charge to enter.

    "You're lucky my dad is out of town for the week," she teases Nyx, leading him through the foyer.

Interior-wise, the house is just as modest as the exterior. Despite residing in an upper class neighborhood, the furnishings of this establishment are simple and homey. It feels welcoming and smells faintly of coffee and cherry blossoms.

    "Bring him to the kitchen," the girl says as she rounds a corner ahead of them. Nyx does as she says, carrying the wounded boy into the kitchen and standing there awaiting further instruction. The girl has disappeared upstairs but soon comes running with a first aid kit and a roll of bandages. She places these on the counter before going to fill a kettle with water and setting it on the stove to heat.

    Nyx takes this as his cue to set the boy down, gingerly lowering him to the floor. No sooner have his feet touched the tiles than he begins to make an escape, half-crawling with impressive speed.

    However, Nyx merely has to grab the boy's ankles to immobilize him. The boy hisses and growls in pain and frustration, refusing to let these people stop him from getting away. His struggling and straining causes severe pain in his restrained ankles, to the point that Nyx is forced to pin the boy to the floor.

    "Mimi, get me the rubbing alcohol and a rag."

    The girl hands Nyx a plastic bottle containing a clear liquid, as well as several clean rags. Holding the boy down with one arm, Nyx gestures for her to open the bottle and pour some onto one of the rags. She quickly does so and hands it to him. He begins sopping up the blood on the boy's wounds, causing the feral youth to scream and struggle all the more.

    Nyx and Mia look at each other in concern. How does this boy have the energy to continue fighting?

    Adding to the noise, the kettle screeches in signal of the water's high temperature. Mia jumps to her feet and pulls the kettle off the stove, switching off the burner. Taking some chamomile tea from a small tin, she slips it into a large mug and pours hot water over the bag. Leaving the tea to steep, she runs to get some towels and a blanket as Nyx continues treating the feral boy's wounds. The scrawny kid is no longer screaming, but he is shaking in fear and from the unbearable agony.

    With most of the major wounds cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged, Nyx gently helps the boy into a sitting position. He drapes the blanket Mia brought over the boy's shoulders, and hands him the mug of tea.

   The boy sniffs it apprehensively. He cannot smell poison, but that doesn't mean they didn't use a scentless variety. Should he even drink it? It feels good in his hands. He warily observes the two Wits through his matted fringe, mistrust saturating his deep brown eyes. They both have green eyes, but he can tell these two are not related. Their blood smells different.

    "He's so scared, poor thing," Mia mutters to Nyx, who nods sympathetically. Mia crouches before the boy, her expression kind. "You can drink the tea," she encourages softly. "You are safe here."

    He just stares at the mug, worried she poisoned it. After all, why else would she be pushing him to drink it and insisting it's fine?

    "Help me out here," Mia hisses to Nyx.

    Nyx looks as if he doesn't quite know what to do. "Just...back up and give him some space, Mimi."

Nodding, she stands up and takes several steps back. The boy continues to stare at them, watching their every interaction, weighing every word.

    "We'll run you a bath if you like, mate," Nyx says to the boy, who seems to inadvertently perk up at the word bath. He is hesitant before nodding subtly. A bath would be nice, though there's not a doubt that it will cause his wounds to burn all the more.

    Mia runs upstairs to start the bath while Nyx stays with the boy. Huddled in the blanket, still not drinking his tea.

    "She didn't put anything in there but tea, mate. Drinking it will help you." Nyx lowers himself into a crouching position, still keeping plenty of distance between himself and the boy. Sniffing the tea, the kid glances at Nyx dubiously. "You're sure she didn't poison it."

    "I'm sure," Nyx affirms with a nod.

    "You're absolutely sure?"

    "Yes, kid," Nyx laughs at the boy's apprehension, only to be met by a look of betrayal and hurt. "I don't mean to mock you. But yes, I'm very sure she didn't put anything in there except the tea bag. Do you take sugar?"

   "No." the boy's response is hostile, and finally he takes a sip of the tea. Its flavor is smooth and glides down his throat easily, soothing the sore muscles within. Before he can even think about it, he takes a larger sip that soon turns into a gulp. It isn't long before the mug is empty, and he feels considerably more at ease. Nyx offers the boy a soft smile and is about to ask if he'd like another mug of tea when Mia returns from upstairs.

    "Bath's ready," she chirps. "Whenever you are. What's your name, bud?"

    Apprehension slips back into the boy's eyes at the request for his name, and his exhausted mind races to find a response. He still does not trust these people, but so far–apart from Nyx knocking him out earlier–they haven't done anything to harm him and they seem genuine. Even so, he must play it safe.

    "He won't give his name, Mimi," Nyx dismisses her. Turning to the unnamed one, he asks, "Ready for that bath or would you like some more tea?"

    "Bath." The word seems feeble coming from the boy's cracked mouth, and he hands the empty mug to Mia. She takes it with a worried smile as Nyx moves to help the boy to his feet. He guides him upstairs to the bathroom and makes sure there are plenty of soaps and towels at his disposal before leaving the boy to his privacy.

    Aching, portions of his body starting to swell, the teen peels off his bloody clothes and lifts himself into the tub with more caution than he's ever used in his entire life. Warm bath water envelops his battered figure, relaxing some of the muscles and providing almost a sense of comfort.

    His large eyes have been darting around warily up until this point, wide and alert as they scan for potential threats; however, the water's warmth paired with the scent of the soaps are causing him to grow almost drowsy–or perhaps it is an effect of the tea? Did they poison it, after all, despite Nyx's insistence that they hadn't?

    What was this place, even?