pretty eyes ~ newt

chapter 8: god, i hate men

TW: mentions of SA

"women's hearts are lethal weapons, did you hold mine and feel threatened?"
history of man, maisie peters
—

It's only been a day since our little crank incident, and we've been taking shelter in the same small cave while Newt's injury heals. He's already able to walk on his own by the second day, albeit a bit unsteadily, but I insist on keeping him on bed rest for at least another few days regardless.

He's unbelievably restless these days, darting around the cave and definitely not obeying my instructions of not over-exerting himself. Newt's even asked me to give him some fighting lessons in his boredom, saying that my fighting skills are much better than his.

I'm pretty sure he's just buttering me up, though. From the look of how he had knocked those WCKD guards down, he could easily handle himself in a fight. Even so, I had reluctantly agreed, seeing no harm in sparring with him every now and then. I made him promise to wait until his injury has completely healed though, much to his chagrin.

My lips quirk up into a small smile as I watch him laughing and chattering with Fry now, who had volunteered to teach him the basics of cooking.

But they seem to have gotten rather distracted, Fry evidently teasing Newt relentlessly about something, and I see their unattended makeshift pot about to boil over. I roll my eyes in exasperation. Jesus fucking christ.

"Fry, Newt, the pot's about to boil over for fuck's sake!" I call across the cave.

I see them both jolt with a start, Fry hurriedly tending to the pot, yelling a quick "thanks" at me.

"Language!" I see Newt give me a pointed look, and I stick my tongue out at him.

Minho, who had been attempting to take a nap, flips me off for ruining his "zen", sending me a dirty look along with it. Sometimes I wonder if he really is just a bitchy teenage girl in disguise.

"Sorry princess, I know you need your beauty sleep," I shoot back at him as I saunter over to where Fry and Newt are, seeing Aris snicker appreciatively at my comment.

I watch curiously as Fry tosses more leaves into the pot that he managed to assemble using supplies from the abandoned warehouse, seemingly making some kind of soup.

I've been wanting to learn how to cook for some time anyways, so what better time than now? Fry narrates his actions as Newt and I watch, now efficiently cutting up another plant.

He would make a pretty good assassin, I think to myself absentmindedly, watching his surprisingly dexterous knife skills.

Newt and I haven't gone out to search for more supplies since our last excursion due to his injury, so Teresa and Thomas have taken over that particular job for the time being.

They seem to be significantly better at it too, every time bringing back pack-loads of food that put Newt and I's meager findings to shame. They're out right now in fact, having left around thirty minutes ago.

Thirty minutes isn't any reason for panic, but I can't shake an eerie feeling of unease that something went wrong. I find myself flicking my eyes toward the cave opening every few minutes anxiously, wishing that they would finally come back and put my strange worries to rest.

"They've been out for a while," Newt remarks, following my gaze.

I nod simply, heaving a sigh. "Hopefully they'll be back soon."

He reads my expression, reassuring me with a light pat on the shoulder. "They will. Tommy's damn good at fighting, and Teresa can handle herself just fine—they'll be alright, Isa."