Recheov didn't say much more about his friends. He didn't quite want to think about that whole mess anymore. His wounds were just reminders of it all, and it was best, in the end, to try and give it all minimal thought. That, perhaps, was why he didn't regard the pain--though, it probably have helped that he was a naturally strong person to begin with. Some of them might not have even hurt in the first place.

Nonetheless, while disregarding his thoughts of the past, he focused on a different topic, one Kali brought up pretty openly.

"Hey, oI could say the same 'bout the desert," he replied to her.

Without skipping a beat, he took another sip at the glass of whiskey in his hand. The desert had a lot of things--but there were no people and there was no whiskey. In fact, there were no booze of any kind at all. These two things Recheov quickly learned to miss.

"Big lonely fuckin' place."

While he might not have said much regarding Kali's appreciation for him staying with her, he at least related with her feelings. Loneliness was loneliness, he could feel it, too--and really, it was nice to have someone to talk to. He just needed to start talking, which may or may not have been a good thing for Kali. Once Recheov started, there was a fair chance he couldn't be stopped.

Somewhere within the conversation, the music had stopped.

She wondered if he realized how true his words were while she shook her head in agreement. Then without warning, her almost sad appearance turned drastically. “Oh hey! I only have to work a few hours in the morning. If you like you can get up with me, grab some grub while I do what I need ta do down there, and we can go do something.”

Something...anything really. Not that there was a whole lot to do, so she feverishly searched her thoughts. “Like, you definitely need some new boots.” She laughed at herself. Money was nothing to her really. She had been saving for years, living bill free. She’d buy him whatever he needed, just for an excuse to go do something.

“It’s up to you though, I’m sure you’re exhausted.” She moved closer to him, hunched over slightly like a child about to unleash some great secret. “Keep makes some killer breakfast.” She nodded at her own words. When it came to breakfast, Keeper was the king of the kitchen, her mouth watered just thinking about it. “I’m not talking eggs and toast either, he goes all out.” Her shoulders came up and her whole body shook as she continued on acting silly. She was indeed a character.

With Kali practically leaning up against him on the couch to whisper in his ear, Recheov could only wonder how this could possibly get better.

And then it suddenly did.

Breakfast. And not just any breakfast, either. She was talking a home cooked breakfast and boasted the mastery of the chef in charge.

Briefly, Recheov narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow in thought. He could not deny that the concept of a nice breakfast was a glorious thought. The dinner he'd received earlier was pretty great, but it was no way a delicious breakfast food. It was good, but it could be better. It could have been what Kali was describing. Recheov vaguely remembered such a thing. Without further hesitation, he took down the rest of the whiskey in one straight gulp. He couldn't begin to think of stuff like liquor when his thoughts were swimming in glorious breakfast meals--or, rather, nostalgic memories.

"oI'm in," he declared with the utmost readiness, as if he were prepared to stand up, march down to the tavern, and indulge in this deliciousness right here and now, "When's this start?"

The sooner the better, of course!

She didn’t move away from him, but stayed where she was laughing at his reaction and response. “Not till morning of course, it’s not really all that late, but whenever you wanna crash for the night, just lemme know. I’ll keep you up all night!” She laughed again, giddy with the simple thought that tomorrow would not be the normal boring day it would normally be.

“Oh, and you can sleep in my bed.” She nodded slightly, looking at his empty glass. “OH! Cause, I’ll stay out here.” Her cheeks were kissed with a hint of crimson upon her ebon skin. She left out a minor detail that really meant a great deal. Although, having someone to cuddle up to with be a lot better then the extra pillow she kept in her bed, but..that was a whole different can of worms.

“I wonder if this is what a sleep over is like.” It was more an “out loud thought” never really having a child hood, playing games and having friends over...that wasn’t her life...

"Naaaaah," Recheov waved off the suggestion. As nice of a thought as it was to sleep in a bed after all this walking, he couldn't take Kali's bed. "oI'll take the couch. It's comfy 'nough."

He didn't mind the idea of her "keeping him up all night," though. Recheov, incidentally, wasn't thinking of any specific means. She could've talked his ear off or . . . something else, for that matter, but it really didn't matter to him. Whatever the case, he knew the loneliness of the desert, and he wasn't too fond of it, really. Now that he was slowly getting to talk, he was remembering how much he missed that.

"Feel freeee to keep me up if you want; not loike oI got anywhere to be, babe," Recheov remarked, half as a statement to her, half as simply loud thinking; after the fact, though, he turned his head to her and grinned somewhat; it was the rough equivalent of a smile for him. "S'all on you! You're the one 'ose gotta work, roight?"

She made a silly face at him and laughed at herself. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time laughter filled her home like it was tonight. “Hell, we may end up just falling asleep here.” She patted her hand against the sofa. It was true, the old thing was soooo comfortable, most her nights were spent upon it.

“This is very true, your plans are with me, and we can pretty much play it by ear.” She leaned a bit closer to him, mostly shifting her weight to become more comfortable. “Eh, I wouldn’t really call it work. I just go down and get the place ready before it’s open to the public. So that means, our breakfast will be super fresh.”

She could already smell the food cooking. Breakfast, was her favorite meal, and Keepers breakfasts were to die for. “So, how old are you Recheov, is there a misses?” Forward? Bah, who cared really? This night, this was anything but normal. A battered man in the ally, now half naked in her home? She wanted to laugh. What the hell was she thinking? She caught herself shrug slightly, and quickly glanced up at him wondering if he had noticed....and if he would simply write it off, because, in all honesty, this probably wasn’t a normal night for him either.

Normality, for Recheov, required him to take a new scar, a new wound, or dish out just the same, and never with any reason. Normality, for him, was chaos. As this night entailed no new injuries, the giving of such injuries, or any extreme on the spectrum of chaos at all-- well, it was certainly a strange night for him, too.

Of course, even on a normal day, he didn't mind these sorts of questions.

"'ow old? Dunno," he replied in frankness, "And oI ain't got a misses, either. Almost, once. Didn't work ou'. Pity, that. She was a noice lady, too."

Recheov shrugged at the thought. That was . . . how long ago? Damn, he couldn't really remember. It was such a surreal thing, being unable to remember the distance of time. All these things that happened before he got to Xexoria-- they all felt like they were years behind him, still locked into his memory, but in the form of silhouettes, undetailed, unrecognizable. Time was such a fleeting thng; he'd never stopped to really give it the respect it deserved before. Now that he'd actually tried to give thought to the nature of his age, he realized just how little he remembered with much clarity.

Oh well. That shit was the past. Wasn't he supposed to be moving on from it all? It was all probably best left ancient history, he supposed.

"Wot 'bout you, babe?"

Shock. It stole her features. He couldn’t recall his age? How can someone lose track of that? Seriously? She pulled her knees up once again and rested her arms on them, teetering her chin atop it. “Strange really...” She assumed he would know what she was talking about, but decided not to grill him over it. “I’m 26, never had a serious relationship. Never really had time. Hard to meet a decent man when you live and breath a tavern.”

Again her laughter filled the air around them. It was true though, she had met men, many men. Dating them, was never really an option in her mind. She had seen them at their worst, heard their sob stories, it was all really pathetic. “One of these days though.” She left it at that.

Popping up off the couch she held her index finger out to him, as if telling him to hang on a minute. And literally, a minute later she returned from her bed room with a sheet and two pillows. She tossed one playfully at his face, and plopped the other one down. Again she took a seat, and again it was almost uncomfortably close to him.

“Just in case.” She placed her pillow at the end of the sofa, and laid the sheet across it. A large yawn escaped her lips and her arms stretched heaven bound. Her torso elongated into a mighty stretch, until the moment had ended. “Damn, that felt good.” Her fingers plucked at a bandage on the gash that ended, or started at his shoulder, straightening it a bit. “So, what’s next?”

When she got up, Recheov shut his eyes and leaned his head back. He was a little sleepier than he thought he'd be. Weird. He couldn't really remember a time when he actually felt all that tired. He usually had a second wind by now. Recheov tapped the bottom of his glass on the arm of the couch in idle fatigue.

The pillow hit him square in the face, but did little to bother him. He plucked it from his face and stared at it awkwardly for a moment, before slouching down where he sat and sliding the pillow behind his head.

"oI guess . . ." Recheov trailed off.

He couldn't think of anything else.

"oI guess we sleep," Recheov concluded, though not without an addition: "'less you wanna talk about your job. oI'm koinda wonderin' jus' 'ow long you've been doin' this."

“You can set that glass wherever, I don’t wanna get back up yet. I’ll grab it in the morning.” She leaned into the back of the sofa as he spoke. Perhaps she was boring him, or maybe he was just tired, I mean, after all he had been through a lot it would seem.

“Oh, I’ve been doing this for some time now. Keep took me off the streets when I was young, and for awhile I lived with him, and I worked at the tavern. He never let me pay him for everything he’s done for me, even then I got a pay check like everyone else.”

She closed her eyes for a minute and smiled widely. “Keeper was my savior. God knows where I might be now if it weren’t for him. I think I was like...fourteen, fifteen, something like that. My life before Keep is blotchy memories, really. I don’t suppose there was really anything worth remembering.”

She reached back and grabbed her pillowing, placing it against him and moved around all crazy like till she was comfortable, her head resting against him. “When I was that young, Keeper kept me in the back. I mainly did dishes and what not. He said he didn’t want me to be corrupted by the things that happened out front. He always made me do my studies, that came first.”

A loud sigh followed her words and a moments pause. “See, Keep never had a family, never took the time outta business to do so. It’s sad really......he is the best father.” The love was apparent in her voice. She couldn’t begin to tell Recheov the first thing about her real dad, but he didn’t matter. Keeper had made the difference in her life, and in her eyes, he was the only father she ever needed. “Guess that’s where I get it, bringing home strays as he puts it.” She poked Recheov rather gently, not wanting to cause him any more discomfort.

Recheov rested one arm around the top of the couch and the other upon the arm of the couch, shortly after leaning forward to set the empty glass upon the floor, just next to the couch. Leaned back as he was, Recheov was relatively comfortable there, with Kali leaning against him and all.

Damn, I could get used to this.

Having someone close to him was a good kind of warmth, which was strange to think. Here in Xexoria, all warmth was bad, simply because it was ever present and inescapable. For someone that was new to Xexoria like Recheov, any added warmth was just extra reason to sweat.

It was a good thing he didn't mind the heat.

"Well, don't worry 'bout this stray. oI ain't got rabies," Recheov remarked.

At least, he didn't think he had rabies. He opened his mouth for a brief moment, so he could reach back and tap the corners of his lips. Nope. No drool. He couldn't possibly have rabies.

"Moight wanna be careful 'bout that in the future though," Recheov felt as if he should give Kali this reminder; she was a nice woman, it'd suck if her kindness got her hurt, "A lo'a strays got rabies."

Her lips parted in a quiet yawn and she snuggled down closer against him. The heat here really didn’t bother her, she had gotten used to it, so she grabbed the sheet and draped it over her body. And then, she burst into laughter at his statement. “I’m glad you aren’t rabid Recheov.”

She moved slightly so she could look up at him. “But even if you were, rabid strays need attention, too.” She smiled and laid her head back down. “I’m glad you’re here.” She nodded to herself. It was sweet though, him tossing out a warning like that. She was well aware how human nature could be, yet thus far she hadn’t had to deal with being bitten.

“Ya know, it says a lot about you, the things we have spoken about. Youra good man Recheov, don’t let anyone tell you differently.” Another yawn, could it really be that late already? No matter, she had gotten less sleep and worked all day, and tomorrow promised to be a great adventure.

"oI'm glad oI'm not rabid, too," Recheov replied with a smirk.

After all, if he were rabid, he wouldn't be all that sane. He knew what it was like to be rabid; it was kind of a relief not to be, but . . . hell . . .

Though, whether or not he was a good man, he didn't go into. That would've called for him to talk about more things he wasn't too happy to think about, so he just avoided that subject matter altogether. It was for the best, really. He didn't want to depress himself just as much as he didn't want to make this woman wary of him.

"Oi," he started to change the subject and, of course, call her attention to the subject change.

That was a "word" not ever heard around these parts. Hell, it wasn't even that common in Ulster, the place that his accent originated. It was only in one small part of Ulster that anyone ever used the "word" "oi," and it really only served that purpose. It was similar to the word "hey," in that respect.

"You should get some sleep, babe," Recheov stated with a tired smile, a smile that looked akin to a grin (but those were all of his smiles, anyways), "You got work tomorrow."

Such an easy task to accomplish, she was tired, there was no lying about that, but she tried. Her lids fluttered over her eyes as she still looked up at him. “I’m not that tired.” Her words were slurred slightly, and not a drink had touched her lips. She was indeed, that tired.

“I can’t wait till tomorrow.” Again she yawned loudly, laying her head down, drifting in and out of half conscience sleep. “We’re gonna have so much fun.” Another flutter of her lids won the war. So much for going to bed. Sleep had won.

Her chest fell heavy with each deep inhale. Her eyes did not ease open in the least. She squirmed a bit until she was comfortable, slinging her arm around his waste. She may very well been embarrassed over this, luckily for her, she was unaware.

For awhile, Recheov said nothing; he simply glanced down to Kali every few seconds, to figure out if she was asleep yet or not. Every time she opened her mouth, her words came out more slurred and tired than before, until she sounded like Recheov should have after a good night of excessive drinking. It was around then that he stopped hearing her voice. Recheov didn't need to check on her then to realize what that meant. Kali was asleep.

If only for a brief moment, Recheov considered leaving. Part of him didn't want to be a burden on this woman. What was she suggesting, using her hard earned wages to buy him clothes and supplies? Recheov was a wayward vagabond; Kali couldn't have figured that he was going to stop through Xexoria and never leave. That would have been the ultimate naivety--but it wasn't entirely possible.

Recheov leaned his head back and shut his eyes. Thinking about Kali and innocent naivety, he formed a picture in his mind after a moment of darkness. It was a familiar picture--a familiar girl, a Cizokian girl, with long dark hair and an expression that rested somewhere within perplexity and innocence--a darkened and tainted innocence, which would have all been a lie, had such innocence not come from the pits of naivety that let her go her everyday life sans all brands of panic attacks and anxieties characteristic of fifteen years worth of abuse.

Briefly, Recheov wondered what might have happened to her, but then, the images against his eyelids changed. Whenever he shut his eyes for long, Recheov didn't experience darkness. He never could--but before, it was a different reason. Before, it was uncollected.

Now, all he could think about were that handful of people.

Recheov smirked as he understood it--not the reason behind these images and words, nor the purpose of regret, but what this meant for him.

Another sleepless night . . .