On the other side, Jian sat in the crumbling husk of a city, near a weak fire made of broken chair legs and old signs.
His eyes were hollow, dull from exhaustion. He sat cross-legged on the cracked asphalt floor of what used to be a parking garage, now their makeshift shelter for the night. The fire between them sputtered and popped, casting jittery shadows on the walls.
Across from him sat the Farian man.
He still didn't know the guy's name. The others had only called him "General" in that stiff, formal way. So Jian just called him that in his head. "General." Cold, unreadable, tall as hell. Like a soldier sculpted out of stone and way too serious for his own good.
Currently, this towering, no-nonsense alien man was glaring down at a metal pot like it had insulted his ancestors.
Jian blinked slowly, watching in silence.
The General picked up a packet of instant noodles. Turned it over. Flipped it back. Squinted.
Then he brought it up to his face and… sniffed it?
