"It'll be ready in a second; you just sit tight while I get this on--the food, I mean...and drink s'more water, okay? Don't want you falling over again." He smirked back at the boy behind him, hoping to come off as friendly. The poor kid. June'd never passed out, but didn't envy Bey the experience. He'd managed to haul him up and out to the kitchen, but not without trouble. Walking over to the worn wooden table that'd been in the kitchen, which looked like someone had hauled it out of a garbage pile and hosed it off, he pulled out a chair and motioned for some sitting on the behalf of Bey. "There, park it. Lemme see if there ent a pot somewhere in here, eh?" He'd taken his canteen back, and had placed it on the table with the cap mostly off.

Juni got to work then on finding said pot. Most of the cabinets in this accursed kitchen were too high up for him to reach from the floor, so he clambered onto the countertop, levering his body up with his arms. He kneeled on the scarred, scored wood, opening cabinets at random, rooting in the back of them, flicking spiders off his fingers with little noises of exasperation, and mostly finding no pots. At one point, he managed to put his foot through a thin spot in the counter, releasing a spout of swear words from his mouth. He managed to extract his foot without losing his boot to the deep dark depths of the space below, which he wasn't sure was actually a cabinet opening. In his mission to find something to cook goddamn boullion in he was too concentrated to notice the shocked looks Bey might be sending him. Finally, after much searching, he found an old pot in the back of the farthest cabinet. Was there running water? ...Nope. He remembered seeing a tank over somewhere, and left the kitchen with his pot, returning with it full of water. He put the pot on the stove to boil with boullion cubes in it, then sat down at the table to wait for it.

"You any better?"

Bey did as Juniper said, drink water. He was tempted to guzzle it down by the mouthful, till it brimed over his lips and down his chin. He wanted to drink till he could hold no more, but that would only turn his stomach on its end, he knew, and his sick body would only reject the fluid. No, slow was best, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

Watching Juniper rummage about in the kitchen did pass the time wating for food. Bey wondered what sort of city food the small wick would be making, he didn't see anything that resembled food sitting around. There was no smell of flour in the pantry, no scent in the back of his tongue of herbs, nothing to resemble jars of oil or caned or preserved vegetibles or fuirts or anything such as that. Just a rundown kitchen where you could sink a boot through the countertop.



Bey blinked at Juniper. Did he feel better. No, not really. He didn't feel as though he'd collapse again...but he didn't feel much better. His gut was still sour with hunger and his vision was a blurry mess. Even now focusing on the smaller spotted lad was a squinting trial. Still, he lied.

"Ah, nah, I'll be fine. 'Twas naught but a spill... I'm just...very, very hungry."

Moments ticked past and Bey swallowed, tapping a finger on the table.

"My name is Bey Gavin."

"Well, somethin'll be ready in just a bit. Sorry it's not homemade broth; didn't think you wanted to wait hours for me to find a chicken n' boil it down n' such. Just stock cubes for now. Oh, hey, lemme get some water on to boil so you can have more to drink, eh?"

When he'd returned from getting water and gotten it on the stove, he sat down again. "So you're Bey Gavin. Juniper Cassle, nice to meet you. Jeez, kid. You're...what? 15? 16? How'd you end up on the street anyway?"

He ended up with his chin resting on his hands looking intently at the other boy. They actually looked remarkably alike, he thought. Same freckles, same skin tone, same eyes...Bey's hair, if cleaned up, would probably be similar to June's undyed hair. It was strange to June; he'd never seen anyone who looked remotely similar to him. Even in a big city like Vienda, no dark freckled blond things ever made themselves known to him. But here was one now. Strange, to say the least.

"Oh, hey, where're you from, by the way?"

For the first time in what seemed a lifetime, Bey felt a touch indignant. 15? Great Vita, did he look that wasted? Bey looked down at himself in his tattered cloths. The deep neckline of his shirt, now ripped and ragged, showed a thin chest, exposed ribs and a sunken belly. Bey's eyes widened. He'd had no idea he looked that bad.

Bey glanced up again, but his eyes never made it back to Juniper's face. Instead, he caught the dusty, rusted reflection of himself in the metal of the canteen. A wraith stared back at him. This person had glassy brown eyes and sunken cheeks covered in freckles. The bridge of the nose was skinned up and marked. Fear set the line of its mouth.

This person was himself.

Hesitantly, Bey reached forward and picked up the canteen, bringing it closer. With his other hand, he felt the side of his face and his nose. He had changed so much. Not two weeks in Old Rose had changed him near beyond recognition by even himself. But of course, had he ever really seen a clear reflection of his own face? They'd never had anything like that in the Wrathwine, something to see your own face with. The most he'd ever seen of himself were muddy reflections in shaded pond-water.

Bey looked back at Juniper. "I'm seventeen, I'm fairly sure."

“Ha. Should’ve know, when people always do that to me. We’re near on the same age, then. I’ll be eighteen on the three after next, though.” He took the now-boiling water off the stove to let it cool and eventually to be put back into the canteen for Bey to drink.

“Shit, kid, you really do look awful. You can borrow some of my clothes after you eat, considering yours are looking more than a tad worse for wear there. And I’ll see what I can do about getting you somewhere to sleep. Then you can rest up all you want, poor thing. And you still didn’t answer my question. How’d you even get out there? You look like you’ve been outside shelter for a while if I’m not mistaken. One night wouldn’t do that much damage even in the Rose. “

He dampened a rag with what little water was left in the canteen, and gave it to Bey. “Might as well clean yourself up a bit while you’re waiting, eh? Should be done in a second.”

Goodness...that was kind of him. He could certainly use more cloths. That which his mother had stitched had served him well in the Wrathwine, but Old Rose had worn them to threads.

However, while Juniper's offer to loan him clothing made him feel welcome and just a touch relaxed in this new place, his pressing questions reversed this.

Bey'd avoided the question for a reason. For a reason he almost didn't want to grasp, talking about himself, giving away information like he would have when the city was new and fresh and Dawn was at his side, felt wrong, now. He wasn't the same Bey Gavin, he thought. He didn't feel the same at all. He felt like some older, tainted version of the real Bey.

So, he hoped Juniper would forgive him for being evasive when he'd shown such kindness thus far and he replied with a croak: "No money...just...ran into bad luck...."

He quickly scrubbed the rag over his face to hide his own shame.

Juni noticed the evading, of course. "Oh, sore spot? Sorry, man. Di'n't mean anything by it. And look, your broth's ready. What timin', eh?" He scurried away hurriedly in search of a bowl. Here was one, and a spoon...put some broth in, add spoon, give to starvation victim. Simple. His hands twitched a bit from lack of food himself, but he got the bowl to the table without spilling.

"Here. Let it cool, and eat it slow or else. I ent cleanin' anything up if you're sick, just saying." He was of course lying, mostly because no one else would and he didn't want his new kitchen smelling like sick right off the bat.
"We'll go see about getting you something clean to wear and a room after you're done, okay?"
He sat down again across from Bey, watching to make sure he noticed any signs of imminent barfing.

Sore spot? Bey flinched. Was he so obvious? Of course he was. Raw nerved as he was, he figured it would be pretty impossible for him to be anything but. Not that he felt himself a particularly good liar. He had no practice in it. Living in the wilds of the forest, you didn't lie to an angry wildcat, you evaded one. Evasion was all he knew.

Plunk, the bowl had said against the table and the sound the soup made as the smell filled his head was a seductive whisper. Bey stared, wide-eyed at the food and all Juniper's words were filtered through that delicious smell. His mouth flooded with saliva and his stomach lurched at the prospect of being filled.

Reverently, hands shaking with anticipation, Bey took the bowl in his hands and brought the rim to his lips, forsaking utensil for something more direct. He didn't notice the heat; he didn't notice the taste or the texture. If asked little more than a minute later what it tasted of and he would not be able to describe it as tasting like anything other than bliss in a bowl.

Bey drank desperately.

"Fine, be sick. Don't blame me for it, though, 'cause I ent to blame." He waved his hand dismissively, then settled his head down on folded arms and looked to the side for a moment. He hauled himself up after a minute. Kid wasn't so bad. He couldn't help it. Stomach the size of a pea.

"I'm glad we can get some food in ye, though, poor dear. I need a nap, I think, n' so do you. Good long one, for you. By the time you wake up I'll have gone shopping and'll be able to get something more substantial in ye. When you're done with that and've stopped being sick all over my kitchen floor, we'll find us somewhere to sleep. Dunno if there're enough rooms for all of us, but if there ent, ye c'n share with me unless you'd rather one of the ladies or that mechanic who seems to hate you. Right?"

He looked up at Bey, hoping he would be proved wrong and he wouldn't really have to clean up a bunch of sick.

...Do I even know where a mop is?

"Sick," Bey echoed, blinking at Juniper once he'd set the now empty bowl down on the table. It didn't say plunk this time. More like a thud of warning.

Sick how? He was already sick and starved. Food cured sick and starved. This strange little look-alike of himself wasn't making sense. He needed food and water. Sleep he could do with, too. Even at the mention of it, his shoulders felt heavier than they should have and his eyes weakened and fuzzed and drooped.

He could certainly use sleep.

He wouldn't have it just yet, though.

Bey's eyes refocused and he blinked in confusion at the sudden off-kilter feeling that turned over in his stomach. He winced. Suddenly, something felt sour inside. His hands gripped the table as the odd sensation became uncomfortable, like something was too large, taking up too much space. What was that? Bey's expression contorted into something pained.

"Yeah, you've just plunged a load of hot soup into your stomach, which is probably the size of a raisin in the desert. You're gonna be sick, kid. Lemme see if there isn't some bucket somewhere so I don't have to clean it up."

He walked away from the table and into the depths of the decrepit warehouse kitchen. By a closet he was fervently hoping he wouldn't have to open, there was indeed a dented red metal bucket. Thank goodness, it was Juni's lucky day. Let's just hope he can aim.

He picked up the bucket and brought it back, putting it down next to Bey's chair. "Kindly hurl into th' bucket so I don't have to venture into that closet to see if there's a mop anywhere. I wasn't planning on finding any dead bodies my first day here, and I'd rather not have such a sudden change of plans, eh? Who knows what they keep in nasty old closets in this old place."

He sat down again across from Bey, and tried to smile. It was pretty much useless, though. He knew the kid was going to throw up, and soon, and he hated it when people threw up. He'd had to clean it up as a little kid helping his mother at the bar sometimes...it was thoroughly disgusting. This kid's wouldn't be riddled with alcohol and bar food, but it still wouldn't be pleasant. Ugh, this is going to be a long day.

Bey felt his insides rebel, felt the bottom of his throat expand and the bottom of his stomach try to invert itself. Thankfully he heaved into the bucket and not all over the floor, but the exertion of it made Vita fog in and out of his vision and sounds dim from existence. Bey's grip on the bucket and on his chair became limp and he would have fallen clean from it were not his legs able to keep steady enough.

It had not been much soup, but now expelled, it left his stomach more soured than it had been before. He groaned and slapped a hand on the table to steady his wobbly and near spent self.

"It...tasted good for...a bit..." he moaned, trying to look back up at Juniper.

"Oh, kid, don't worry, it's okay, I'm not mad. Let's just...let's just get you cleaned up and in bed, eh? We'll try more food later, 'kay?"

He found the rag he'd given Bey earlier. "Here, it's dirty from before, but just wipe your mouth off and have a drink of water. And sit down, for the gods' sakes, before you faceplant again."

(( eep, and here I go sfsr'ing you with forgetting about adding more to this post before I went to bed...sorry, man! ))

Bey wobbled back into his chair and gave a liverish sounding belch. He looked more than green around the gills and his body sagged in the chair. Hands placed against the table helped him to brace, but his arms shook. Exhausted, he wanted to lie down and never smell food ever again.

He didn't want to think about the idea of anything more solid than water. A shaky hand took the canteen and he sipped on it a bit, after scrubbing his face clean with the offered rag.

"I don't believe I...can hold anything down...I don't think...I don't think I should try to eat anything more. It'll wind up...equally wasted," he blinked sadly at Juniper. "I...could do for rest, though. T'would be nice...."

"Oh, you know I didn't mean right now. I just mean whenever you wake up from your nap. Have to eat sometime. For now, lemme take you up to one of the rooms and get you in something clean, and get you to bed. Lemme just run down and get my stuff." When he came back up, holding a pile of clothes and blankets and a few unidentified jars in his arms, he began to lead Bey upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Since he figured he was going to be sharing it, he picked the one at the end, though he felt for poor Bey having to walk so far.

"Here we go, kid, just sit on the floor and I'll get this hammock rigged up. Oh, and lessee here..." He went over to his pile of clothes and plucked out a never-worn cable-knit sweater and a pair of also-never-worn uncut pants, still long enough for a regular-sized man. "Here, you can get changed. I ent lookin'. Hope your underwear's still okay."

He found the hammock in the corner, and tied the ropes on, making loops at the ends and throwing them over the hooks attached to the ceiling. He then went over to his clothes pile, and removed his two blankets. One of them he folded into a makeshift pillow, and it and the other went into the hammock to wait for Bey. "There y'are. I'll let you borrow 'em 'til you get your own." He didn't add that he would go without until then, but he didn't want to make Bey make excuses about why he didn't need them.

"Can I turn around now?"

Underwear? Bey thought to himself as he rid himself of his ruined old cloths. What were those? People in the city were very odd, indeed.

He pulled away his ruined shirt and chucked it too the floor along with his belt and vest. His short knife dropped out in his hand and he figured it was still of some good use. There was a touch of rust near the handle, but nothing that said it couldn't still work well. Bey slipped it into the pocket of his new trousers. His mother's ring also came out in his hand. The lad started to slip it onto his finger. It was a perfect fit for his hand and far too big for his mother's slim fingers. She'd worn it 'round her neck on a cord for it had been too large for her hand. Still, even if it fit his hand, he did not want to wear it.

Even if he thought of it as his mothers....

Soon enough he had the sweater on over his head. It was a little scratchy, but very warm.

He cleared his throat. "I'm dressed."

Juni turned around. "There we are, then. Hammock's all ready for you." He straightened out the the blanket and turned a corner down. "I'll come check on you whenever I make dinner and we'll see if you're up to eating any. Okay? Sleep well, kid. Oh, and before you go to sleep--can I just throw these out or do you want me to try and save them? Don't think it can be done, but thought I'd ask."

Juni picked up the pile of dirty, ripped clothes and waited to make sure Bey made it into the hammock and got to sleep without falling on his face.

Bey sized up the business of getting up into the hammock with a cautious eye. He shuffled to it and tested it with a hand. Seemed solid enough. Bey had never seen a bed like this and he didn't completely trust it not to fall....

Still, he levered the rest of his body in, and after a fashion of struggling and a bit of careful scooching, he found himself in the rocking thing. Bey pulled the blanket and lay back, wincing at everything that complained within his body. A short hum of discomfort escaped his chest.

The cloths? Bey supposed he could stand to loose another bit of the Wrathwine. He shrugged as he gazed at the celing. "Burn them, whatever," he sighed.

Slowly, Bey looked over at Juniper, his big dark eyes open and honest. "Thanks," he croaked.