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Adam ran through Oakridge's streets, uncaring for whom he may encounter. Old women, old farts, old policemen, old idiots… The Bald Eagle had no interest in saluting them as they were holding him back, slowing him, ensuring he would fail.

Most of the white feathers covering his breasts were hidden beneath his sleeveless black hoodie, exposing only his arms... And only the yellow beak and aquiline face peaked through, which gave away Adam's identity as he roamed the streets.

Many years ago, he had been an exceptional quarterback and participated in many disciplines like running and swimming. However, despite his impressive results and efforts, no team had selected him and his career ran short.

Birds are too scrawny, they have bone problems, you should try something more lightweight. Nobody had acknowledged Adam's strength and abilities; no one acknowledged the sacrifice he had made to develop his strong musculature beneath his white feathers.

Usually, birds, and especially Bald Eagles, looked bigger than they were, thanks to their plumage. But Adam didn't need them to impress.

His arms were sinewy, his pecs and abs chiseled. His legs, however, remained the most developed part of his anatomy so he would be a proper runner. But it was certain he had a specific diet to reinforce his caloric intake and a steady amount of calcium to improve his bone density. But it hadn't been enough. Never been enough for the others… For her.

Therefore, it was why it was easy to find the broody Bird running through the streets even late at night. With his sleeveless hoodie, everyone could see the muscle mass he possessed that strained against his clothes and shorts. He ran with a purpose, forcing everyone to step away.

And somehow, it granted him peace as he crossed through the streets, away from...

“Hey mate, ya're preparing for the marathon?!"

Focused as he was on what was in front of him, Adam blinked. His yellow eyes went from what was ahead to a strange sight on his left. A chestnut-scaley Cobra was running next to him, his hood folded.

With a headband over his head, the Reptile smiled without exposing his fangs and only had his tongue flailing in the air while he ran alongside Adam. He wasn't a real athlete; his posture was all wrong, and he wasn't breathing right as he tried to keep up with the Eagle's pace.

In a silent screech, Adam paced up and dashed forward, lowering his head. He stomped on the pavement in the dead downtown… However, he heard the Snake rush too, and soon, they were shoulders to shoulders.

“Wo- Woah! Bloody rude!" said the Snake, trembling and trying not to overextend himself. Sweat dripped from his scales, ruining the young male's gray shirt with a large sweat stain. And that headband or those bracers all over his scaley arms didn't help.

“What do you want?" asked Adam, articulating his words and focusing on his breathing.

“Slo- Slow down!" answered the Cobra.

For half a second, Adam thought about dashing faster. But that little runner seemed hellbent on keeping the pace even if that was unhealthy. The Cobra wasn't experienced; if he kept going, he could fall or worse. So… Adam slowed down, went from a run to a jog, then a stop.

“Oh! Thanks! I- I can't feel my legs," thanked the Snake as he bent to massage his legs and hamstrings.

The Bald Eagle checked the young Cobra, noticed his terrible posture, and more… Before that one suddenly straightened and exhaled: “Ripper! Look at you! You're not even tired!"

“What do you want?" repeated Adam, crossing his arms and tapping on the curb with his foot.

“Oh! Yeah!" answered the Snake, suddenly searching through his pockets before he pulled out what seemed to be a flyer for a marathon run through the town.

“No, thanks. I'm not interested," grunted the Eagle, about to turn when the exhausted Cobra grabbed him by the shoulders.

“WAIT! Ya did not check the prizes!"

Adam cocked an eyebrow but looked above his shoulders, then at the flyer he grabbed and read. It wouldn't be an exact Marathon, but half the length. It couldn't hurt to try, no? She would say. But Adam hated to be exposed, hated to be reminded of what remained… Hence, he glanced at the prize: One-year subscription to a nearby gym, a year's worth of protein shakers, and so on. Not bad, but that was something for new athletes.

Adam frowned at the document before handing it back to the still heaving young Cobra.

“That's it? You want me to join that race?" he asked, to which the Cobra nodded. “No, thank you. I dislike competitions," grumbled Adam.

“Wait! Do ya know the place? The Gym Rat Den?" shouted the Snake.

But already Adam was running at full speed, barely making any effort as he pushed on his legs and disappeared within the suburbs.

His house waited for him, and so did the exercises, the reading, the shower, the bed, the breakfast, the traffic, the bullshit job, the return home. Back… to his daily run.

He followed the same track every day of the week, warming himself before going back home and continuing what training he could do with the little equipment he had. A routine, the best he could have, that had been ingrained in him. One he would repeat until-

“Hey, mate! You're still running?"

Adam clenched his beak, feeling a shiver down his spine. The same voice as yesterday, the same running as before. The Cobra was back at his side, running with that same uncontrolled pace.

“Ya do an awful lot for someone who doesn't like competitions. And you have those legs!" continued the chestnut-colored Snake, his tongue happily flailing before the frustrated Eagle.

“What's in for you? Are you following me?" asked Adam, clearly jumping and slowing down to a jog in the middle of the street; the Snake followed.

“What? No! I'm doing my run… But I saw ya in front of me, so I sped up. Is that bad?" he huffed, his blue eyes observing the begrudging Eagle.

“No."

“Cool! So, you're still refusing to join the marat-“

“Don't speak about it. I don't want to hear anything," cut Adam, frowning and returning to running. He didn't dash like before but forced the pace faster until he was at cruising speed…

By his side, the strange Cobra tried to keep up. His tongue flailed, he raised his fists and arms in running, and his stance was too uneven. Should he have to slow down, he would fail. A detail Adam noticed after years of running and training under his coach's guidance at school.

Running laps was the coach's way to instill the grit and discipline the young athletes needed to thrive: to reach the zone where each action followed another without any rupture, any cut in his line of thoughts. At first, he had been like that Snake… Running amok, without any control of his body.

“Your arms," he said, crudely.

“What?" shouted the Cobra, as they both slowed down but didn't outright stop.

“Keep your arms close to your body. Look at me," answered Adam. He had his elbows close to his chest; his fists closed but not tightly. “Do not sway your arms when you run. Keep them close to your chest. But not sticking to it."

He saw the chestnut-colored Snake observe, then lift his arms… And lower them, all the while trying to adjust his fists and closing them. Too tight.

“Do not force on your arms. They should be relaxed. Your spine upright," he continued, pointing at the details and watching how the Snake adjusted one detail after another but lost form after a few seconds.

“Damn… It- It's hard!" he complained, once more lifting his arms when he shouldn't. And it was worse with the way he pushed with his feet. He was bouncing more than running.

“It is. But that's how you run, or else you can't run long."

“Hah… That's how you do it, then," mumbled the Snake, his eyes trying to look upward.

He tried to adjust for the remainder of the lap, and Adam still had to point out whenever he failed. But that young guy, he seemed willing to try and adapt… And remediate.

“Fuck me dead! I… I don't know how ya do it so much!" he even screamed as they slowed down at a corner; the poor Snake had signaled Adam, who… Seemed fine to slow down for that guy.

It felt easier to accept what that little Reptile asked.

“Years of training, you cannot force this."

“Ya make it look so bloody easy," moaned the Snake, holding onto his hamstrings.

“It's easier for me. I have hollow bones," he said, admitting to those easy details. Compared to a Reptilian who had real bones plus scales, he had an easy time. He always made efforts but always ended up with horrible bone breaks during matches. That's what they said.

“Oh… Reckon it's right. Thanks for the tips, though." mumbled the Cobra, taking a deep breath and straightening his back with his hands. “By the way, my name is Noah."

“Adam," answered the Bald Eagle, his feet bouncing on the curb.

“Christian too?" asked the Snake.

“No…" commented Adam with a sigh. He closed his eyes for an instant, then relaxed his arms. “I'm going for another lap. Do not overreach, and keep yourself hydrated," he said.

He lifted his left hand and ran again.

That was silly of him… He shouldn't be angry or frustrated, but he was. He had to repeat himself as he brought a hand to his left arm, feeling its slight weight. If he recovered, that was no act of God.

---

The next night, Adam was back to running. He had refused his colleagues' invitations to a drink, and his beak kept closing and clicking. Somehow, yesterday's last discussion still weighed on his mind. But this time, as he turned downtown and ran across the same familiar street, he didn't hear the Snake around.

Perhaps that guy had abandoned or desired to avoid him… Most of the runners did so after one run or two with the Bald Eagle. They wanted to keep pace with him but abandoned and never tried again. It wasn't like he actively encouraged them to stop to try, but he couldn't merely slow down and adapt to their pace. He wasn't a coach, a good teacher, or anything.

Hell, all of his teachers always told him he was an ass who couldn't explain what he had in mind… But what else could he do? He wasn't the others. He wasn't what people expected of him. He no longer wanted to rely on them.

He ran. Again, he ran home. He showered, slept, and trained all Saturday and Sunday in between taking care of his bedroom, going for a grocery run, and doing a bit of reading.

His place was only a small house in the suburbs, out of any HOA that could turn his life into hell. One given by his father after he left for the South in search of something. An old place with old memories gathering dust. Likewise for the gold, likewise for the titles, likewise for the old table.

It was only on his Monday run that he heard the Cobra's steps again. The ridiculous breathing, the little huffs and puffs while the creature dragged himself further and further. Somehow, Adam faced Noah back. Despite his break, the Snake looked as perky as ever and saluted the Bald Eagle.

“How ya goin', mate?" asked Noah, obviously chirpy.

“Okay. Why did you stop?" said Adam, his golden eyes on the Snake. He didn't have his armbands, and his posture was better. The arms were still too high, but he kept his spine straight. In the end, the guy hadn't given up at all.

“My legs were so sore, I couldn't run anymore for two days; I even thought of calling in sick. But my boss would defo beat me up if I did that on a Friday!" complained the Cobra, his hood extending a bit before he shook his head.

“You don't run the weekends?"

“No, my shifts are too late for that. Wait? You're running all week?" asked Noah, darting his blue eyes toward the Bald Eagle.

“Yes."

“No break? No rest? Nada?"

“No."

“No vacations, no little party with your friends?" continued Noah, seemingly amazed by the strength of will displayed by the Bald Eagle. “I couldn't do that!"

“This is a matter of discipline. My coach used to say: You can get the motivation and the energy, but discipline always gets you," he said… Reminiscing the drills his coach forced into him… Always. At least, he knew his stuff and didn't mess around.

“I reckon I don't have the discipline for that," answered Noah.

“Yes, you don't."

Adam kept running, but as he glanced to his left, he saw the dejected expression from the Snake. Was he grimacing or crying? That was hard to tell with that hispid face.

“I mean!" he said, slowing. “You don't have the discipline from the get-go."

His steps slowed, his beak clacking while the Snake followed and came to a standstill. Noah's shoulders had slumped, and his expression was, yes, dejected. He wasn't crying, but that was close to it.

“Listen. I'm not saying it to demoralize you. It's a fact. Nobody has it from the beginning," continued the Bald Eagle as they were standing in the middle of the curb.

“Yeah nah yeah." was Noah's answer.

If Adam had known, he would have bitten his tongue and swallowed back his words.

“Sorry."

The word caught Adam off guard as he watched the Snake take a long breath, his hood retracted and his hands low against his sides.

“What?"

“I am sorry for… This. Can we run?" asked Noah.

“Sure. Just… Yeah, let's go. Follow my steps," said Adam, his voice a bit shaky as he was again jumping on his feet and running.

Running again and away… Yet, the Snake followed.

But he wasn't as perky or joyful as before or talkative. He kept to himself with his head low, though his form remained pretty good. He was probably getting the hang of it, thought Adam while they were doing another lap around the neighborhood.

“What's your diet?" asked Adam suddenly, trying to get a raise of the Snake.

“Does it matter?" answered Noah.

“Yes. It depends on what you plan to do. But for example, carnivores need more proteins in their diets and shakers. Herbivores have to balance with fibers… I imagine you have a strict plan and have alarms each day?"

“How? … How do ya know that?" asked Noah, baffled.

“I had a friend, a Snake too, in high school. He explained many of his kind need a regular diet plan and eating hours. That's true for you, I imagine."

Noah nodded, leaving Adam thoughtful as he slowed, thinking about it. He didn't remember all his Nutrition classes, but enough about the predators… Or he could dust off the old books.

“What's the matter?" intervened Noah, his shoulders low.

“Tomorrow, same hour. I want you here," he said, smiling as much as his beak could. There was something he could do.

Thus, the day after, as Adam waited near the block where Noah usually met him, he wasn't running at all. He was sitting on a bench, his hoodie still on but with a backpack on the side.

“What's this for? You're not running?" asked Noah as he arrived, his shoulders still low. But the Snake still tried to gratify the Eagle with a smile.

“Not yet," he said as he stood up and slid the backpack on. “I waited for you."

“Oh… Thanks," stated Noah.

But before the Snake's gaze went down, Adam grabbed that shoulder: “Let's run. I'll tell you all when we're done."

This session went like a breeze for the Bald Eagle and the Snake. Neither felt talkative that day, and Adam didn't have to say much. Even if the Cobra still raised his hands, a mere glance from the Eagle was enough to have it remediated.

Moreover, the evening breeze was perfect for them as they ran, feeling the cold air take away the sweat that could stick to their feathers and scales.

And long before he knew it, the Eagle had been pushing for an extra lap around the neighborhood, his eyes half-closed. Only to hear his “partner" gasp and heave.

He slowed, and his feet stopped jumping on the pavement. And after a few seconds, Noah was at his level. The Cobra's form had degraded, and he was running ragged… Yeah, it wasn't like Adam. But there was something.

“Done?" asked Noah, his voice trembling while he watched Adam grab the backpack and rummage inside it. Then, out of it, he pulled a shaker he handed to the wide-eyed Cobra.

“What?" asked Noah, waving his hand for the Snake to grab it. “Uh… I watch my diet and avoid an-“

“Any deficiency or hypervit…. Too much vitamins, right?" he said, stumbling in his speech. All the while, he waved that shaker at Noah until he took.

“Yes?"

“To gain weight and muscles, you must change your intake. You have a dietician for you? Tell them about it and to see for an increase. Mostly proteins, fibers, and calcium."

“What? Hell, you know all that?" asked Noah, tilting his head in surprise as the Eagle took another shaker out of the bag and opened it wide to take a gulp… And grimace right away.

“I studied nutrition and dietetics… And failed," said Adam, sighing. “But don't worry, I didn't fail those classes."

Still, Noah eyed the shaker with a troubled expression but opened it… Sniffed it with his flailing tongue and grimaced.

“It tastes like arse!" he shouted.

“It is. I don't add sweeteners and other stuff. Drink up," Adam answered, taking a swig and grimacing. He shouldn't have changed the mix.

“Argh!" exclaimed Noah, gargling after having taken a sip.

“Horrible, right. It was worse when my coach made them."

“How can ya drink that?"

“Force of habits. It helps."

Adam shrugged, looking around. They were close to a nearby park, though it was empty at that hour. Like the streets, nobody was going around except those with a purpose in Oakridge.

After all, the town wasn't particularly attractive.

But his gazing stopped when he heard another gurgle from the Snake and turned to Noah, the Cobra shuddered like he was sick.

“You'll get the habit. I'll tell you what to take to prepare those shakers… Use warm water and soap to clean the cup; don't let it soak, or it will stink."

Wiping his mouth, the Snake watched Adam, and his shoulders slumped.

“Why are ya doing this? Helping me?"

Adam grimaced at the question. Why was he helping that scrawny Snake? He couldn't tell, exactly. There was something that called him to do so. Or perhaps that was the sheer audacity he talked to him the first time. Hence, he shrugged, unable to tell.

“You want to participate in that marathon, right?"

“Yes… But about that…" started the Snake, his words hanging as if he could not find something he wanted to say. Then gave up: “Yes. I want to."

“Then, it's fine if I help you to participate?"

---

With the case settled, it didn't take long for Adam to dust back his old books and notes he had made when he was younger. Most of it had been discarded and set into boxes in his attic, with his old projects. It was a mere return to a previous time…

And even if he couldn't tell why, he enjoyed helping Noah.

At first, it was only the advice and the shaker recipes. It changed slowly as he gave the Snake more routines outside of jogging. From stretching to little exercises, even sitting around, Adam tried to provide him with pointers over the days. Days that turned into weeks.

With them, Noah had slowly been bulking around his shoulders to improve his posture. And he wasn't so ragged after an extra lap… Though he still had that trendy sportswear Adam didn't like. It was too flashy.

“Another lap?" he asked that Friday, in a relatively good mood.

“No, I'm good!" admitted Noah, raising a hand to stop. But he wasn't bending over and exhaling; instead, he went directly for stretching.

“You still have enough endurance for another lap, though," commented Adam, approaching with his hands on his sides.

“Yes. But I have work to do tomorrow," answered Noah, pressing against his back. “We receive a new delivery, and I'll be slammed."

“Ok. Shaker?" answered Adam, pulling out two shakers from the bag and proposing the red to Noah before suddenly switching hands and offering the blue.

“Shaker," accepted the Snake, taking a sip and grimacing but not grunting. “What's your opinion?"

“My opinion?"

“On the Marathon. It'll be in four weeks," said the Snake, his blue eyes watching Adam up and down.

“Uh… Do you want the coach's opinion or mine?" asked Adam.

The Coach's opinion was always the most truthful and honest, leaving Noah sad… Adam's old coach had always been an ass that pushed people around and demoralized them. Probably that this old fart's habits had rubbed off on the Eagle.

“Coach."

“You don't have enough endurance yet. It'll improve in the following weeks, but you won't be first," answered Adam, approaching to pass a hand on the Snake's back, checking his breathing. Fine.

“And you won't participate?" asked Noah, his voice low. Again, with the idea of joining.

Adam wasn't one for competitions… Not anymore. But it didn't mean the Snake stopped. Quite the opposite, he seemed increasingly insistent for Adam to join it, even though the prize wasn't so important.

“Nah. I won't try," he answered, raising his shoulders before turning. “So.."

“So…" echoed the Snake, not moving an inch despite the hand on his back.

The hand the Bald Eagle removed, bringing it closer to his body before chuckling: “See you Monday, then?"

“Wait!"

Noah straightened and spun on himself before the Bald Eagle could step off.

“Humm… Adam?" started Noah, tilting his head.

“What's the matter? Do you have an issue next Monday? We can go Tues-“

“No!" cut the Snake, taking a long breath. “What do you think about hanging out? Right now? I received my new gear, and my place is just a block aw-“

“Sure."

He answered without a break, shrugging. If Noah wanted them to hang out, it was fine. Admittedly… He enjoyed the presence of the not-so-scrawny-anymore Cobra and even appreciated his bubbly attitude.

Even now, Noah seemed on the verge of exploding with his blue eyes opened wide.

“True?"

“True," he said, shrugging. Plus, if Noah received new gear to train, he had to check it out.

“Bloody bastard! Oh, and don't worry. It's tidy!"

At that remark, Adam grimaced. Often, people who said that weren't so clean.

But he was proved wrong as he stood by the wide-open apartment door leading to a quaint little living room. Plants on the window stool, gray mat in the entrance, cozy blue sofa, and coffee table. This was just the first: one he entered with his shoes off, as requested.

“That's indeed clean," he commented as his golden gaze was all over the details: the shelves stuffed with books with colorful covers, bobbleheads with wide eyes, figurines… There were even a few mangas the Eagle approached and looked at, watching the mismatch of different series collide.

“I told you it's clean, mate!" retorted the Snake, his steps going further.

“Err… I kn… Sorry," he mumbled, continuing his observation by watching the few figurines.

“Make yourself comfy! I'll whip up something!"

Comfy… Adam tried sitting on the couch that was almost too soft. Both hands on the leather-like texture, he bounced on it… Almost.

But his gaze was still on the windows and the flower pots. A long line that went from his spot to the American-typed kitchen where the Snake was working. But beyond that, there was not much to do. There was no television around either… Somehow, he was starting to regret having accepted the invitation.

It wasn't like his living room with a television and a sofa where he could kick his feet off if desired or his office where he would read and relax. This was a little too…

“Nice spot, isn't it?" asked Noah, smiling and back in the living room.

“Huh… Right!" answered Adam, probably a bit too wide-eyed and frantically looking around.

However, the Snake smiled and shook his head.

“Reckon, it's not your style," completed the Cobra by turning and reaching for a book on the shelves, one of the colorful. It wasn't exactly a book, and Adam proved right when he received it. Noah handed him a manga comic compilation around the two hundredth page: “The Extinguisher."

“Huh?"

“If you must read something here, I always point people to start with that."

“The Extinguisher? What's this?"

Without missing a beat, the Snake sat by the Eagle and grabbed the book to turn it so Adam could see the cover and the hero, a Skunk in a tight black suit, on it.

“It's about a guy who can create fire but cannot control it due to his past. It's rather funny, with a neat sentimental touch. Give it a read, and tell me if you dislike it."

He didn't dislike it.

After the first rough pages in a pure mix of manga and old comics style, the Bird was enthralled by the story he read while reclining on the sofa. Like Noah said, it managed to steal a chuckle out of him, then another between the emotional parts he could relate with.

That wasn't as instructive as the books he used to read… But it was entertaining, enough to have him forget about everything… Even the smell of food tingled his nostrils, up until he heard a cough.

Noah was holding up plates, the attitude quite relaxed, while Adam had reclined, crossed his legs, and was entirely comfortable on the sofa in his read.

Read he set aside, as well as his comfort, as he joined Noah at the table and watched their meal. A sort of beef stew with potatoes, something relatively simple with a strong scent that tempted the Bald Eagle.

He was about to dig the meal when he stopped, seeing Noah with his hands joined and eyes closed. To whatever faith he prayed, Adam didn't ask and waited for his host to stop his silent mouthing before taking his first bite: the meat melted in his beak, and the sauce was sweet but not too much.

“So, what do ya think?" asked Noah.

“You're an excellent cook. It tastes really good," said Adam, savoring the meal.

“Eh, thanks. It's one of my mother's recipes I still keep around," started the Snake, pointing to a set of papers stuck to the fridge. “But I asked about the manga."

“The manga? It's good. It's not what I usually read, but this is something else. It's pleasant."

“I have three more volumes. You can borrow them if you want," added Noah with a smile while taking another bite.

“I'll have to follow you up on that." said the Bird, taking another bite. Yes… The meal would be pretty caloric and stuff his guts, but that was just once: not like he was eating there all day. But he could; it was way better than his cooked meals. He wasn't particularly good at it.

“You don't read comics or manga?" asked Noah, picking up a plastic pitcher and filling it up.

“I don't," confirmed Adam, cleaning his plate. “I mostly read documentation and guides to complete what I know… And perhaps get a promotion."

“A new job in sight?" asked Noah, pouring in Adam's glass.

“I'm a paper pusher where I work. I read, confirm, stamp documents for the building departments. It's dull," said the Bald Eagle, his brows lowering as he remembered about his days… Such a dull work, yet he was lucky to have gotten it with his resume.

“It's not that bad, yeah nah?" continued Noah.

“It's not that bad if it's not for the hierarchy. They're hard to work with," he said, turning around… He wasn't keen on talking about it, but then he saw the package by the entrance, one he hadn't noticed. And forgotten. “You wanted me to check your new stuff, right?"

“Yes! You want me to-?"

Without waiting for Noah's question, Adam nodded and exited the table to get to the package. Those were the supplements he had pointed out to Noah: shakers and other items like a yoga mat. Even if the Snake was a jogger, it was better to work out his core muscles, and doing it at home was an easy way to start one's day.

Ultimately, it wasn't a piece of gym equipment or anything. But just what the Snake needed for his daily needs. Somehow, the last part of their evening wasn't spent eating or reading. Adam showed exercises to reinforce the core muscles with all the correct postures and then pointed out where the Snake was failing.

Although Noah was already flexible, he had a tendency to move his thighs too much during exercises. So much so that Adam had to grab his feet and force them down while leaning against Noah's legs, almost his chest pressed against the knees.

“I think that's all you need! The important thing is to move your torso, not your waist," he added, smiling and checking how his “partner"'s elbows reached the knees.

He glanced at them, then back at Noah's flustered face. The Cobra's blue eyes were wide but mostly avoiding Adam's gaze. A detail the Eagle noted with his brows in askance, checking his partner's thighs and legs. His posture was correct, at that instant.

“Adam?"

“Yes?" he answered the sudden question, locking eyes with Noah.

“Could you… Hmm… Turn away?"

The Eagle's brows raised further as the legs were released, and he noted a bulge, or a part of it, between those legs. Those tight shorts weren't helping with that.

“Sure!" he instantly said, turning away while listening to Noah's laying on the mat, shuffling, then sitting.

But no words were exchanged… Seconds, minutes… The Bald Eagle was still looking away, slightly ashamed. Then, he coughed: “Okay. I think you've got the form right. I- I don't think you need my help anymore for this and-“

He heard the shuffle, then those soft scaley hands on his face. He felt their fresh touch on his feathers, pushing them aside and touching his smooth skin below. The Snake had grabbed his beak, forcing Adam to shut up and turn.

They faced one another, Noah's blue eyes watching Adam. That face, that mouth, those lips were so close to the Eagle. A breath away, a whisper. It was impossible to ignore the excitation, the need, and the energy within Noah's gaze as they were on the mat. But then, the Snake released his grip and retracted.

The silence fell again, except for their breaths, quickened and frantic for both.

“I'll… Go," mumbled Adam, his breath so short his lungs burned.

Whatever was Noah's answer, the drumming in his ears was too intense for him to listen to. He went to the door and put his shoes on. He noted the Snake's shadow over him as he knelt to put everything on.

“Thanks for everything," he mumbled, opening the door as if he was cornered. He got out… He ran. Faster, further than ever before. Rushed, as if followed by the devil, Adam ran back. He fled like he always did, fleeing back to his place.

---

Over the next four days, Adam didn't run.

Instead of his daily routine in the streets or the exercises at home, he slumped in his chair. His office was still packed with myriads of dusty books. Philosophy, psychiatry, sciences, physics, biology… Topics he had started to get the grasp on, to grasp a way or something.

However, even if he knew them, he couldn't…

He felt sick, sickened, ill like he rarely did before. But he did.

In his hand, there was his phone… A mere press was enough to reach someone, something, anything. It was not the first time he had been wrecked like so. His therapist could receive him in such a situation, or he could wait for this to pass. Would it pass? One moment or another, right?

The weight crushed Adam's body as he reminisced that stupid evening repeatedly, his thoughts and memories simmering together. Was he poisoned? Was he sick from something? Was it nothing alike? Was it only him? Was it always him? Would it always be him?

Adam's fingers trembled on the phone, a mere push away from calling. But he set his phone aside and breathed, shivered, tensed.

He thought his fears were gone; he thought it solved… Alas, his family and the pressure from them were gone. But the fears.

No, they were still there and plaguing him. They would haunt him as long as he remained there and let them fester. Calling sick was only a temporary solution.

He…

He had to run.

He had to run and not think to let his stress work out. That was how his coach helped him, told him to handle when everything crushed him, and his family was… Breaking apart.

His hoodie was back on, his pants there. He had let his feathers grow back; he didn't know why, but he knew he had to trim them down soon.

He saw the bags under his eyes, the natural scowl in the mirror, the shivers.

“Hold it together," he muttered, moving to the kitchen to prepare his and Noah's shakers. But they were not there, nor his backpack, nor the book Noah wanted to lend him. He glanced at the clean spot in the middle of the dust on the counter, where the bag would lay.

He glanced… Took a long breath and pushed down his emotions. It wasn't healthy, but there was little way he could resist them.

He left his house, closed the door behind him, and ran. Faster, further, on the edge of the city. In the old trails, he used to take between the developed areas surrounding the suburbs. There were fewer people, fewer people with their pets out, and their dumb presence holding him back.

Why did he go downtown? Perhaps it was from the days he decided to do grocery shopping after his exercises as his therapist advised him. But he had given up on this, but not the route.

It could be simpler to do so. Perhaps to flee, to use those trails from now on. Noah could not find him that way.

It wouldn't hurt as much to stay away, to protect himself and not let those emotions take over him. Nothing would dare to interpose and slow him down outside of the city… Plus, if the Snake truly wanted to be with him, he could search for him.

“Hold it together, Adam. Focus on the run."

He said that… And yet he had stopped. The night was above him, the lights illuminating his path.

His feet were stuck on the ground, waiting for a release that didn't come. He stood there, shivering and heaving. He was again in a rut; he would soon be. He had lost touch with his friends at work; they were no longer inviting him, and talking around the coffee machine was always a reminder of what they were doing.

He couldn't always jump from promotion to promotion and hope everything would go his way.

“This is unhealthy, Adam. What was the last time you went to a party or an event?" she had asked him after he got cornered by her questions.

Months, probably more.

He heaved, then squatted in the path, holding his head. His ears were drumming again, filled with his heartbeat. He couldn't keep up like this… He had recovered physically; he was better than before. He had the strength, the endurance, the knowledge. He could easily do whatever he wanted; he knew it. But would it help?

He couldn't keep pushing people away like this… It always hurt when people ignored or abandoned him. But it also wrecked his mind to be left alone and abandoned.

“Being alone is how you protected yourself when you didn't have the tools to understand and process what was happening to you. This is natural; you don't have to be ashamed. But you must understand you have grown Adam. You are no longer that child; you cannot cut yourself from the world and hope it'll be better. You must open up and allow people in, or else you won't form meaningful relationships."

Squatting, his feet were quivering, and so was his face.

He took a breath, a second, a third. He filled his lungs with that cold Winter air until he could no longer retain it and exhaled. But it didn't appease him as it did before.

He tried again. His body relaxed, but his turmoil remained.

“Hold it… Hold it," he mumbled as his breath sounded shallow but went slower.

It was slowly going; it wasn't gone, but it was going. That was… That was enough for the Bald Eagle as he relaxed his hands and stood up, his digits taping the air.

“Just… Hold it," he mumbled as he stood up and watched around. Nobody saw him like that, nobody stood around. Good.

He kept breathing as he took his first step, then the second. He marched, carefully monitoring his breath while his steps turned into a light job, then… A run. Just at a good pace to control his actions, a perfect pace for him.

The pavement beneath his steps echoed his stomp, leading him further to the city's edge. There were houses, still, some centers… But nothing big, nothing interesting, nothing… Like a gym?

Adam's run slowed as his eyes were drawn to that strange sight. The building was out of brick and mortar in a copy of an old style, but the front was modern with neon lights to illuminate the place's name: “The Gym Rat Den".

Plus, the same lights were moving to reproduce the movement of someone deadlifting. The façade had a large window on the entrance, with its usual tired-teen receptionist and rows of supplements, but nothing about the gym itself. A strange setup, Adam approached, running adjacent to the overfilled parking lot. That place, he… Wasn't it that place that organized the marathon run Noah had been talking about?

The Bald Eagle kept approaching, his footsteps echoing as he bounced on the pavement. The prices were steep, more than any Gym he'd seen, with a big part of it being the “customary supplements" that were more than half the price.

He could pay for it… But why would he when he had everything prepared already?

He continued his steps, ready to start a jog once more. He followed the curb, followed the curve, and it turned. It followed the building's side structure so as not to cut through the road. Hence, he followed, his jogs and breaths again controlled, perfectly controlled. All under control.

But then, he heard it… A clang on his left. A door flung open, hushed words in the distance. He didn't think of it; he turned, facing the back of that building and the little stairs leading to a backdoor. And… Blue eyes.

His golden eyes locked, almost stunned to see that face that was just as surprised as him. Unlike their usual meetings, the Snake didn't wear his customary shorts. Instead, he had a dark and green blazer with jeans.

“Adam?"

The voice echoed in the alleyway. It struck, it echoed, it wrought.

The Bald Eagle felt his heartbeat rise and his breathing quicken once more. His feet bounced, his legs acted out. His eyes opened wide, but he didn't utter a thing.

He… He had to run.

He turned, he tensed his shoulders and back… He ignored the pain in his arms or the fire in his legs, and he ra-

“ADAM! WAIT! Jerry, I'm going!"

The words came in Adam's back. His mind was racing, his thoughts flying, his soul rushing away. Everything was so distant, away, afar. The air was against his feathers, his lungs were about to explode, and his heart was pumping at an ungodly rate.

His form was perfect for a run: shoulders straight, arms close to his body, with no excessive movement.

“Bloody Hell! Adam? Are you okay?"

Without any difficulty, the Snake had caught up to him. What else could it be when your feet are weights stuck on the ground, opposing your movements? His legs and feet were so heavy.

“I… Am… Okay," slowly articulated the Bald Eagle, his eyes catching with Noah's walking around and facing him.

He was wide-eyed, surprised, but outstretched a hand to grab Adam's arms.

Adam didn't resist. He let the Snake lead him to a public bench.

They sat, Adam first, while facing that parking lot. A mere streetlight provided clarity on the scene, divulging the dirty tags on the stone and the papers sticking under the side. And that… That concerned expression on Noah's face.

“Adam?" he asked.

The Eagle's beak opened and closed, sucking in the air without offering any word back. The golden eyes were wide, the hands clasped together and thumbing, fighting, crushing together. He could still run, he could try… His heels were bouncing against the pavement, giving away his nervosity.

“Ya okay? I didn't see you run the last two days…"

Had he been running alone? Without any coaching? Of course, he would. He needed that marathon run or something. But it didn't make sense… Noah's presence here didn't make sense at all. Did it?

“I'd understand if you don't want us to run together. It would hurt. But I'd understand ya. You got all the reasons for it, Adam… But the way you left, the expression you got, right now. What is happening?"

Too much is happening. Too much, too many things. The questions were running and swirling and rushing. He could hardly breathe; he had to run. He had to flee.

“ADAM!"

The cry stopped the Bald Eagle, pulling him from his thoughts. He had stood up and been ready to run.

“I… Am… Fine," articulated the Eagle, his voice still breaking with each word.

“Hell not! You are crying!"

Was he? Adam's fingers reached for his face. His feathers were damp. His eyes burned.

“Fuck," he mumbled. His strength dropped. His body betrayed him as he slumped back on the bench with his hand covering those golden eyes.

He… wasn't holding it. He failed at this again. He heaved.

“Adam. I don't know what is happening to you. I am no therapist… But I'm worried."

He heaved again, his throat so dry.

“Can we…?"

Run? Flee? Stop this?

“We?"

“Walk?" answered Adam, trying to push on the bench again. But his legs were so weak. Only then were the Snake's arms sliding on his back and below his pits. He was too weak to fight back.

So… He let Noah hold him and guide him. He almost had to rely entirely on him.

“Adam. Are ya sick?"

The Bald Eagle shook his head… It wasn't physical. His body might be weak, imperfect, failing him. But there was no illness except those damned-

“Are you seeing a therapist?"

This time, he nodded. Yes.

“Alright."

Noah helped him walk through the neighborhood. He had been near the end of the loop. Strangely, they were quite close to Adam's place… A cozy cul-de-sac where many houses were built in a pure suburban style.

“This is where you live? It looks… Neat. Oldies' place, reckon."

He nodded, his throat clenching at the mere thought of uttering a word.

“I always saw ya living in an apartment, pure Bronx style, heh. Nobody's at home?"

Adam didn't answer this time as they marched on the porch and passed the front door. With a mere click, the corridor was illuminated. Adam didn't have to say much; Noah knew where to go, and he pushed him on a chair, letting him rest.

“Take it slow. I don't want you falling."

It was like a distant dream to see the Snake inside his house, to see him hanging around… Check the trophies on the dusty shelves, the turned-down frames, and the limited furniture.

“Can I?" asked Noah, approaching the hung pictures of Adam, proudly showing his medals with a large grin. He was such a fool.

Of course, it's not like the Bald Eagle could refuse.

“That's a lot of trophies; they're all yours?"

“I never liked them," mumbled Adam, his voice husky as he closed his eyes.

“You looked so happy in those pictures."

“My mother wanted this. She wanted me to be so perfect," he said, shivering. It was getting out. He couldn't hold. That was terrible. What would Noah think?

“Oh. You don't have to-“

“She wanted me to be her perfect little prince so she could tell everyone how good a mother she was."

“Ad-“ spoke Noah.

But the dam was reaching its limits and opening up the valves.

“All those trophies were hers and hers alone. Whenever I won them, she would take a photo and then take them, keep them on that shelf. But it wasn't enough, never enough for her. My father didn't help…" he inhaled, holding onto the words until he released them. “I should have thrown those trophies long ago…"

He yearned to shout those last words, but they came out as a low whisper.

“Adam… I didn't know this."

The Bald Eagle slowly opened his eyes, seeing the Snake squatting so they could be at the same level. Blue and gold together.

“Yes… You didn't," he said, factual. But not angry. Not angry at Noah for not knowing. He never divulged the truth, never allowed people to see a glimpse of what he had. “You couldn't. It's my fault."

“Is there… Something I can do for ya?"

Again, Adam's eyes were closing themselves. He felt so weak.

“Can you… Stay tonight? I promise, the bedrooms are… Tidy," he mumbled, feeling a slight chuckle at the corner of his mouth.

---

He didn't hear the answer. Or didn't comprehend it. Remember… The empty took him away, forced him to lay low. Sometimes, it was just fine to let it take over without worrying or fearing. Just sleep… And wake up exhausted, but knowing you hadn't been worrying.

When Adam woke up, it was with bags beneath his eyes and a sickly sweet scent filling his nostrils. He was on the couch, a cot over his body. His feathers and clothes were sticky, but he ignored them as he slowly moved, rolled, and pushed the cot away.

He was home…

A glance at the clock revealed it was almost noon. Distant noises attracted the Bald Eagle's attention as he lumbered through the living room. His thoughts were foggy, at best. But he remembered the last night, his request… And sure enough, he saw Noah sitting in the kitchen, eyeing the energy bar he was holding.

“… Hi," said Adam, his snickers sliding against the tiles floor until he sat at his table.

“G'day. Your paltry is almost empty. And your boss says he'll have to fire you if you're calling off one more day," answered Noah, offering the energy bar to Adam.

However, the scent of tea hung in the air. Just the same as his mother liked.

“This was expected," answered Adam, putting his arm on the table and pressing his closed fist against his head. “I… Guess you have questions."

“A whole lot. But you don't have to bleed yourself out like I owe you something. At least, I know you are… … that you are here," said the Snake, retracting his offer and biting off the energy bar. “No worries."

“No. I want you to know. It's the best I could do to excuse myself," he answered, his voice low.

“How long have you been seeing a shrink? And… Have you been bottling up? No. Tell me about what happened when we were at my place."

Adam's fist pressed further against his skull. Of all the questions Noah could have asked, he picked that one.

“Ever since my twenties. But none managed to stick around," he answered before taking a long breath. “And… I don't know."

“You don't know what happened?" asked Noah, raising an eyebrow.

“No… I don't know why I acted like this," grumbled Adam, feeling his palm pressing right between his eyes. “I know myself, how I could react, this is supposed to be me… My mind, myself. But I don't know why I acted like this. I should be better, shou-“

A hand stopped him, a scaly hand on his and holding back.

“No worries. Don't beat yourself over it, not for me or yourself."

“But, I-“

“You cannot control everything, Adam," said the Snake, frowning. But the instant after, his face relaxed. “My father was like you. He constantly mulled over his failures and thought we hated him for it."

“Was?" asked Adam, though grimacing as the question was unpleasant.

“He got better. It was a few years since he stopped excusing himself over everything and nothing. I don't mean to say you should do the same… But I know. I get it, Adam."

The scowl stopped, the traits dropped, and the peace returned to Adam's thoughts as he tried to glance at Noah and saw the Snake checking the bar. The silence was thick, palpable, a wall.

“It tastes like arse," cut the Snake, putting the said energy bar aside before he smiled at Adam. “Right?"

The Eagle's fingers joined, knotted themselves, and intertwined before him. Then, he nodded.

“They taste like arse. But they're enough."

He tried to smile and pull on that face's muscles, but that was too exhausting to do so.

Even opening his mouth felt so difficult. The blue eyes on him, the decreasing smile, the fear. He-

“Is it too hard?"

He nodded, his fingers joined and pressed, only for another hand to join and press them.

“Noah… It's. I don't know where to start. There's so much to say."

“Your mother… She pushed you around? Made you feel worthless unless you brought a trophy or acted like she wanted?"

“No!" shouted Adam, his head extending. But then, he leaned back on the chair. “Yes. Fuck… I thought I was done with it."

He then took a long breath, passing a hand over his arms, over the feathers that grew into a clearer tuft. But not enough to divulge what was beneath even if he pushed on them.

“She did it. Unless I were a good boy, she would take anything at hand and beat me with it or throw it at me," he whispered, feeling his heartbeat quicken. “Sometimes, it was one of my Dad's belts she took, or she ordered him to smack me with it. He wouldn't do anything to displease. But I think he was as afraid as I was."

“It sounds… Horrible," commented Noah, still holding onto Adam's hands.

“It wasn't the worst." exhaled Adam, pushing away the need to rub his beak.

“Do you want to say it?"

“...We, birds, have weaker bones. During puberty, it's even worse… She was a nutjob, took away my prescribed supplements, and kept beating me for my average grades. Until she hurt me… Really."

“Adam… Bloody Hell. I- I don't know what to say to ya. I'm sorry."

Solemnly, he moved his hands away. He extended both arms before he pointed at each tuft right below the elbows.

“That's where she would hit me. In the later years, she used a baton. I thought I was getting used to the pain, but. No," groaned Adam.

He watched Noah's fingers approach those spots but retracted his arms.

“Please, don't touch them, they-“

“It's sensitive. Sorry," said the Snake, retreating while Adam extended his arms back and moved to push on the tufts, setting aside the feathers to expose the clear pink skin and a clearer trail that didn't have any plums on it. Nobody would notice it now.

“That day, when she hit me, it felt… Wrong. I shouted, and she hit me more until I was on the ground. I think I passed out. I woke up on the sofa, hearing my parents scream. And again, I passed out."

“What happened? What did they do?"

“They called on an ambulance. I was brought to the hospital. Both arms were broken, stress fractures, the doc said after a radio."

The silence dropped again, leaving Noah now wrangling and holding his hands as if to crush or stop them from moving.

“It's…"

“It's not the end," mumbled Adam, taking a long, sharp breath. It was closer to a hiss from his closed beak, but a long inspiration that drew and drew until his lungs were about to explode. “I was in my bed… Both arms held out, IV and all. The doctor entered the room with the results and my parents… My mother ran at me, screaming, “How I shouldn't do too much exercise! I told you to take the supplements!" that's what she said, more or less. But I remember that fake face as she threw herself at me to hug me, faking tears. I-“

“Adam."

“She put a face before everyone… She told everyone I had done too much and I had to rest now. She was a nutjob who shouted to everyone and anyone how God would heal me! BUT NO! I HAD TO GET RODS INSERTED IN MY ARMS! I- MY MOTHER BROKE MY ARMS AND PUT THE BLAME ON ME!"

Adam shouted and cried. But then, he watched Noah shrink in his chair, and… he froze.

He froze as he was standing up, the chair pushed back. He… Stopped, grabbed the chair and slumped.

“I shouldn't shout at you… Fuck… This is so wrong," he mumbled, his voice coarse. He passed a hand over his face; he wasn't crying this time. But…

“That must have been hell for you. Why… Where are they? Your father and your mother? Are they still around? Or phoning with you?"

“No… She passed a few years ago. Cancer took her away quickly; she didn't even try chemotherapy, spouting how God would save her. Crazy until the end… She wanted me to pray for her."

He was still holding it… Deep inside. “She went to the church, asking people to pray, too. But she was quick to push them when they offered to help her with the chemo."

He slumped further. She was a nutjob and had always been one… But. Was he different? Broken, too. Not the same way, but just as broken, and wrong, and ill, and sick, and corrupt, and vile, and-

“And your dad?" cut Noah, extending a hand palm up to Adam. A gesture of sympathy… But could he take it?

“He is alive. He has another house in the south where he enjoys his retirement. We… We are doing better. But he is…"

“He is not okay. Is he?"

Adam didn't want to admit it. But yes, his father did, too.

The old man hadn't been the same since his mother died. His father should have danced and been happy, crying in joy as that witch wasn't here to beat and berate him, too. But no, it was like something had been taken off the old Eagle, and even in the south, he was withering away. He had lost weight, he no longer smiled, he barely did anything during his days.

She had broken him… She had broken him, too.

“Yes. He.. Isn't the same as before. I'm unsure about him. He… You know, I always hoped he would come and shout at my mother to stop one day. But he never did. He is a coward."

“She had him wrapped around her finger, no?"

“Yes…"

Adam watched the Snake's hand, still open. Still there. He moved his, tried to advance it. Would he be perceived as weak? What would become of him? What… What would Noah think of him if he accepted? If he refused? If-

He gargled as he finally approached, put his fingers on the palm, and hooked it on Noah's.

He gargled, unable to find more words to add while those cold scaley fingers were onto Adam, passing over them.

“I can- this is…" Noah's words were coming, stumbling, failing. Yet… Adam nodded.

“Please."

How long had Noah stayed there? Adam couldn't say. But it all came to an end when the Snake received a call. Slumping, exhausted, drained, Adam stood up. His body moved with the regularity of a machine. He wouldn't be a bother or pull his friend's leg… Friend?

He moved.

His steps were slow, but he finally reached his office. His old bedroom when he was a kid. His old drawings were still tapped to the walls, showing that same idea of him getting a trophy and having his parents applaud him. Wouldn't be enough.

He looked at the desk with traces of dust almost everywhere now. Only the recent books he had picked up were exempted… As for his shelves, they were… Not better.

Yet, he took one and sat, opening on the bookmark. Anatomy, what were the muscle differences between different species, and how to adapt your training. The diagrams were there, reassuring, although their meanings were starting to elude Adam. Muscles, bones, tendons, all was there, but he didn't have the mind for it. His right foot danced and bounced on the floor. He felt so exhausted but had that nervous energy that pushed him to run around.

He put the book aside, creating a little cloud, before he picked another bookmarked one. Chemistry… All but organic compounds he had read and reread. Yet, he was about to delve back into those. They were… Reassuring, at least.

[I]Knock, Knock

[/I]The sound pulled Adam from the first word, catalyst, to turn at Noah. He had forgotten to close the door, forced by habits of living alone. The Cobra was looking around, his eyes drawn to every room detail.

Only to return to Adam. The scaley mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, as if Noah was searching for a word or something to say.

“You can enter, it's fine. I was… I don't know what I wanted to do. But make yourself comfortable," commented Adam, closing the book and setting it up on the pile. The place was a mess, not perfect. Yes, Noah entered it and watched along. He carefully trod, although Adam noticed something: it wasn't the first time those sneakers were in the room.

For an anxious moment, Adam followed how the Snake moved around with his eyes going on the shelves. On the drawings attached to the walls, to the closed windows.

But none dared to speak up; that was awkward. Extremely awkward.

“My boss called me to see if I would be there early," started Noah, passing a finger over one of Adam's drawings: of his parents applauded him.

“I… I can-," started Adam before shaking his head and closing that beak shut. “What did you say?"

“' Mate of mine had an issue and couldn't be there. He got it," answered Noah before turning to Adam.

Despite being in his own home, Adam wasn't… Comfortable. Hands close to his body, legs closed, beak closed. He seemed… He felt like an intruder as Noah watched him.

“Noah Chaloner."

Adam blinked. He blinked some more, unable to comprehend as he watched the Cobra grab a nearby stool to sit on in front of Adam. Contrary to the Bird, his posture was relaxed but leaning forward.

“That's my name. Or at least a part of it. Ya don't want to hear about the Noah David Andrew Chaloner. That's a bit too much," continued the Snake, offering an open hand.

“Adam Harrison," mumbled the Bald Eagle back, stretching a hand forward and shaking it, still stuck by the incongruity of the situation. “What is this for?"

As if ignoring the question, Noah smiled and looked around while holding onto the wooden stool. “I'm into cooking, gardening, and a bit into comics. Mangas, too. But you've seen it."

Adam watched, fidgeting in his seat. That was so strange, and yet… Was he trying to open up the conversation?

“What about you, Adam? Reckon you have more than running in your life," smiled Noah, pointing at what surrounded them. A pile of dusty books and old memories.

“I… Mostly run. And read some books. I'm not that interesting, Noah. What are you doing?"

However, Noah's answer was to scoot closer to the desk and grab one of the books. An analysis of the conflict in the Middle East, one the Cobra dusted off by passing a hand over.

“You are more interesting than you say. And I barely know you in the end, Adam," commented the Cobra as he opened the book and grimaced at the content… Those were barely digestible. “You read an awful lot, you work in an office for the city but I don't know what, you're good at sports. Reckon it's not all your books, here."

Adam sighed, passing a hand over his left shoulder.

“I have more in the attic," he admitted before sighing. “So… I feel so self-conscious about what I told you and now. You are in my office, talking about how good I am. It's…"

Adam's voice fell flat. And slowly, he raised his hands and shook them while harboring a deadpan expression.

“It's defo too much," nodded Noah, closing the book and putting it back where he found it. “No worries. I get the memo. But I want to know you better. I mean it, Adam. I fucked up big time at my place an-“

“It's not that." cut Adam.

He cut through, unable to watch Noah say this. It… it wasn't a fuck up. It was…

“It's not a fuck-up Noah. I can't reciprocate it. Not now, not at that moment. I want it. But I can't. It's hard."

He sighed again, joining his hands and leaning forward.

“For years. I've been alone. Isolated. I can't just… Open up. Hell… You know me more than those I worked with for years. And how long do you know me?"

“Not long," answered Noah, his expression grave. Before he shook his head and smiled. “Believe me; I bloody fucked up things. But it's fine! It might be hard… But we can take it slow."

He then reached outward, pointing at one of the books, still smiling, however.

“Meanwhile... What about an exchange? You get the Extinguisher, and you lend me one of your books?"

“Something in particular?" answered Adam, moving around to get one of them.

“'Nything that's easy to read," chuckled Noah, extending a hand to get whatever was offered.

“Maybe… Hmm. I have something about plants."