The villagers indeed set him up like royalty as best they could. obviously clean sheets, as well as warm food was something they had in little abundance, yet they shared what little they had. despite the fact that his meals back in the lab had been prepared exactly as he could ask for them, the food brought to him by the matronly looking old lady tasted infinetly better.<br/><br/>was this how life should be?<br/><br/>Once his stomach had been filled he was led to the bathing area. He was still a little shy about all the scars he'd received from surgery as well as all the incursions he'd been a part of. Somalia, uganda, russia, haiti. So many places....how had he always missed this side of things? well, traveling with a heavily armed military convoy would of course make he locals skittish.<br/><br/>So there he sat, his coat and top layed across the bed. Clad only in his boots and black combat fatigues.He'd have to get something new eventually. these wouldn't hold up very long in a place like this.<br/><br/>Absently he let his fingers glide over a particularly jagged scar across his ribs. that hadn't been a pleasent memory. The feeling of the machete biting into not just his skin but taking chunks out of his ribs. he could just barely feel the screws in the metal plates they'd put in.<br/><br/>Another scar, this time in his hair. the most important one at that. It proved is lack of humanity. They'd put that thing in his head,they'd taken his memories away. he didn't want to hate anyone. But they had stolen his past, his very identity! nobody had such a right!<br/><br/>He took several steadying breaths, wondering absently where Esmeralda was. Perhaps she could help him with his little predicament. XIV was a designation, not a name. He hated being reffered to by a number. maybe she would have some ideas.<br/><br/>Maybe he should have put the shirt back on too. He wasn't exactly one to realize it but his scarred body was actually quite built. not an ounce of fat to be seen. the daily training regiment saw to that.