Boundless

...and Strings

"Don't look at me like that", Lance complained. She had not even tried to eat what was brought to her.

(Throwing up in the bathroom first thing in the morning was something she didn't want to repeat so soon).

"What are you trying to accomplish?", the Medic had that 'I see what you are doing here' look on his face.

"I don't know. Not feel like I'm starving? Is that good enough?", she sighed, pushing away the alien fruit Lar'jar tried to offer again.

The Girl was still hooked to the IV. She would not die if she didn't eat, but the empty feeling in her belly added to her generalized discomfort.

Lance had asked for more blood. Her excuse? Cravings.

Besides, it was pretty much the only thing her stomach was not instantly rejecting (unlike that damned fruit Lar'jar tried to push into her hands a third time now. That thing would soon fly across the room).

"Try again", the Medic frowned, annoyed (at the fruit and blood debacles).

"I'm serious, Lar'jar! I mean, I understand it must be freaking you out", she shrugged. "But I'm hungry, and I'm craving blood".

Indeed, it was not every day someone would ask to feed on Yautja's blood, but hey! It's not like she planned to include it in her regular diet.

The Medic inhaled deeply. Alright, let's consider she was not trying to trick me into accelerating the process, but actually... craving blood.

Nausea, vomiting, tiredness, headaches, photophobia, drowsiness, changes in sleeping patterns, tachycardia, fever, sweats, joint pain, hallucinations, memory lapses... Those were just some examples of the reported side effects of treating oomans with Yautja's blood. Lar'jar had carefully read all the material around it.

There were no reports of cravings -blood anything else.

And Lar'jar tried to inform her, in the most dispassionate way possible. If she could explain her cravings better... then maybe...

"Seriously? So you think I'm trying to trick you because no one reported it?", the Girl complained.

Tired, hungry, and sick, Lance had no time to waste meditating over the weirdness of her cravings.

"May I remind you about how well you timed your biting?" Sarcasm painted all over the Yautja's face.

(She was conniving like a freaking viper).

"You may not!", she grumbled, frowning due to headaches. Fucking headaches! "Besides, people not reporting cravings is different from people not having them".

"We are not oomans, Lance. Yautjas don't make a habit of lying to medics", Lar'jar pointed out.

(The sadistic inside him could not help but be amused).

"Are you seriously making me argue my way into satiating my cravings?", Lance rubbed her forehead, as if that would exorcise the pain drilling her cranium.

Lar'jar had to laugh - clicking away his amusement.

(Centuries of that ooman around might not be so bad after all).

"Predators might not lie to medics, but oomans do, you pointed out yourself", she spat, using the alien word on purpose. There was an implicit 'asshole' lost somewhere in that phrase.

"You might need to articulate that one better", still clicking.

"You said that Velk'n's clan don't have many in-lab records of the process because few oomans go through it, and because it's an honor, the process is somewhat private, right?"