He continued to hang their clothes up to dry even as Dusty, in more or less words, voiced his disapproval. Caelan didn't want to argue or say that<i>he</i>thought the clothes mattered, which was why he fetched them from the rain. Instead, he arranged his shirt neatly on the chair and scooted everything a quarter of an inch closer to the fire before leaving well enough alone.<br/><br/>Satisfied with the completion of his self-appointed task, Caelan took a seat at the table. He didn't want to risk getting the bedding wet by climbing back into bed, not when he couldn't see more than an afternoon full of naps in their future.<br/><br/>"That's alright. It's not so bad here." Caelan yawned and gazed down at the wooden table. One of the edges had been knocked in after it toppled to the ground in last night's altercation. He ran his fingers over the rough wood and set his chin on his fist, his elbow pressed to the table top.<br/><br/>"Hey, Dusty?" Caelan lifted his gaze to the man, still crouched beside the stove while he tended to the flame. "What should I have done to get out from under you?" He could see the bruises spread across Dusty's knuckles from where he sat. Today probably wasn't a good day to ask Dusty to teach him how to fight - now or in the future.<br/><br/>He felt the urge to share stories biting at the tip of his tongue. He wanted to talk about his brother and how they used to wrestle before he left for Tulane and his brother enlisted in the military. He wanted to laugh over how badly his ass had been handed to him when his brother visited after basic training. The memory of his family hurt too badly and after what was said last night, Caelan figured he was better off keeping his reminiscing to himself.