"Hannah," a voice grunted and she felt something hot on her shoulder. The woman winced, furrowing her brow and turning away. There was another grunt and a rougher shake of her shoulder.
"What do you want Jolly?" She groaned, pulling her blanket tighter. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, and ignored Smaug's hissing.
Jar-hidda grunted again, then roared. Hannah jumped from her chair, falling to the ground and scrambling back, eyes looking wildly and landing on the blurry image of the alien on his crutch. His expression made him seem pissed off, no, that was definitely a pissed of look. He was very upset.
"What'd I do!?" she yelled struggling with the fleece blank which had tangled her up. The alien grunted, his mandibles partially folding and clicking against each other in an irritable fashion. She finally wrestled out of the blanket and stood to her feet, sweeping her hair out of her face.
"What, what do you want!?" she spread her arms wide, palms up.
The alien growled and reached down, tugging at his loincloth. Hannah blinked, eyes widening. What on earth was he asking for? He couldn't really be asking for…? She scanned him over, seeing the tightness of his muscles, shuddering slightly and he bent in half. He was in obvious discomfort, leaning heavily on the crutch and breathing heavily for a moment before he recovered and looked up at her.
She blinked, looking over him again, then noted the way that his knees were bent inwards.
"Oh… oh!" he had to go.
Three days of unconsciousness and with how much water he had been drinking, she was surprised this hadn't happened sooner. She moved around the chair and moved to the door on the wall on the other side of the stairs. She opened the door and moved out of his way.
Normally, the bathroom was cold, and unused. She didn't like running the electricity, so the plumbing didn't work. She had an outhouse outside for most of the time. But since the electricity was running, and they were snowed in, it would have to do.
He didn't seem to agree. He took up much of the bathroom, looking around then at her. She moved over and pulled up the lid and seat of the white porcelain toilet and moved out again. Jar-hidda looked at what she had moved and reached forward, running a hand over the bowl then looking at her again like it was asking what the hell he was supposed to do with it.
He moved out of the bathroom and pointed to the window. She was frustrated because he was frustrated, "you want to go outside?" She asked and moved to the door. He followed after her but winced back when the door opened and the cold came in. He rose an arm like he was protecting himself, then stepped forward.
The tunnel she had dug yesterday had caved in, at least where the door was concerned. The heat coming from the house had melted about a foot of snow around the cabin.
Jar-hidda reached forward at his shoulder height and scooped out a handful of snow from the wall. It began melting almost immediately as he brought it in to look at it, knuckles dripping.
"Snow," she said to him, "it's everywhere, we're trapped in here until it melts a bit."
Jar-hidda threw the snow back outside with an angry roar and turned away, buckling again and making a pained noise. He must have been holding this in for a long time. Hannah shut the door and followed after him, directing him again to the bathroom.
"Look, whatever you need to do, do it in there, I'll clean it up," she rested a hand on his back to usher him in, and then reached in, shutting the door behind him.
She walked away, not wanting to hear what kind of mess he was going to make, and wondering why he would just deny natural functions like that. She went back to her chair and located where Smaug had gone after falling off her shoulder. She checked him over to make sure he was okay, and took the opportunity to tend to both her and his fire.
She heard the door open up after she had gone to the kitchen to prepare meat for him. Looking past the doorway, she saw him move out, seemingly back to normal. She was not looking forward to seeing what all had happened in there. He looked at her, she looked at him. There was silence. They were both going to pretend that it never happened.
After clearing her throat invited him into the kitchen and he grunted, looking up at her then turning to look at the door leading to outside. Well she thought he was looking at the door, he walked over however and inspected the various guns and bows that she had by it instead.
"Those are mine," she confirmed as he touched them gently and rattled. She was beginning to pick up that the different sounding rattles and growls reflected different emotions, sort of like how mothers say they can understand the difference between a baby's cries. This one was curiosity, a quick chittering noise. He looked back at her touching the bow.
He made the gesture for 'what is' that had become so prominent in their word game yesterday and she moved over.
"Bow," she said and, to her surprise, he offered no word in his language.
"Bow," he simply said with a quick return of attention to the weapon and a tilt of his head.
She lifted it off the wall, taking the furthest string and pulled it back to show him how it worked. He held out his hand and she let the string go back to its position, only letting go of it then. She handed the weapon to him and he gave her a deep nod, his eyes disappearing from view for a moment then took the weapon out of his grasp. She wondered what that was all about.
His attempt to maneuver the bow the same way she had proved difficult for him, with the crutch, and he set it aside against the door, putting very little weight on his leg but resting the clawed toes on the ground. He would probably be able to walk without the crutch in another two days or something. The big wound on his chest was nearly completely gone, leaving behind a large scar.
He pulled back the string quickly, a feat of strength, and moved his arms to mimic her stance, with the knuckle of his thumb against his cheek. He looked very warrior-esque that way. He let the string snap back into place, causing her to wince as he did as well. He grunted and looked at his wrist. It smarted no doubt, but his tough skin had kept it from cutting open.
He handed the weapon back with another nod and she put it back on the peg. He pointed at the weapon, then swept his arm around the room to indicate the trophies there. She pointed at the ones that she had taken with the bow. She liked the primitive weapon better than the gun, there was more sport in it that way, gave the animals a better chance, and it felt better if she made the kill.
"Come on Jolly, breakfast time," she said and turned towards the kitchen. He ate quickly, consuming all the meat she had brought out and even looked around for more. It had been the rest of the deer she had taken yesterday, a lucky kill, made easier to transport with that sled Smith had left behind. Seems she would have to go get another one. That elk option started looking really good.
She begrudgingly brought up more of the frozen reserves and thawed them out for Jar-hidda, keeping one piece for herself. He was distracted momentarily when she began to put rub on the meat. He moved over and spread his mandibles, opening that odd-looking mouth wide and inhaling. He coughed, shaking his head and grunting in distaste. He didn't approve of the seasoning.
"Hey! Eat yours the way you want and I'll eat mine the way I want," she scorned, but wasn't really upset. She cooked her meat to medium rare, a process he also watched with interest as his mandibles worked another piece into his mouth. When it came out of the frying pan he pointed at the meat and tilted his head.
"Your way would make me sick," she said and he rattled. She attempted a pantomime of sick, but wasn't sure if it came off the way she had intended, or if he would confuse it for 'pain.' She cut a slice off and moved it over with her knife. He picked it up, completely unbothered by the heat and tried it. The mandibles worked the meat into his mouth. He didn't spit it out immediately, pondered over it for a moment, then looked over at the spices.
She wondered if he had a sense of taste, considering that he had no tongue, but he was an alien. Maybe the pink fleshy folds of its inner mouth functioned like the tongue and had receptors for taste? It seemed he 'smelled' with his mouth as well. She figured whatever sense of taste he had couldn't last long. With the lack of chewing molars, his meat was more or less eaten whole, like most reptiles.
He pointed over at the spices and she picked up a small plastic container, "spice," she said holding it up, "this one is," she turned the bottle over and read, "lemon pepper," she moved her finger along the words for him to read and he took the bottle from her. He opened his mandibles, closed them and looked the bottle over. She flipped the cap open and he inspected it, then inhaled again. He coughed and shook his head, his heavy dreads smacking his skin and handed it back.
Hannah recapped the lid smiling to herself. If she ever needed to get him out of a room, she could just throw spice around. She put the spice back and went to her meal. Jar-hidda moved around the kitchen, picking up various things and they played the word game again. It didn't surprise her that he didn't have words for most of the things he was picking up. It seemed his race wasn't very big on cooking.
She did wonder why he was teaching her his language. What real point was there for him to understand and for her to know if he was going to leave? Maybe he was an ambassador for his race, and knowing the language was going to be very important to him? It still seemed unlikely.
"Why are you here Jolly?" she mused to herself out loud. He thought she was talking to him, looking over at her as he was inspecting the frying pan, touching it despite it not being yet cool from the stove. Hell, maybe even fire wouldn't bother him at all. She shook her head and he grunted. He moved over to her and leaned close. She leaned back, giving him a suspicious look. He then pointed at Smaug who hissed.
"Lizar-no!" Smaug apparently had had enough, latching onto Jar-hidda's pointing finger. Hannah feared for the small creature. But the alien didn't seem concerned, lifting the lizard up off Hannah's shoulder, looking it over as it dangled and writhed, drawing blood. He probably didn't even feel the small needle teeth.
Hannah stepped up after a second of shock that Smaug wasn't dead and inserted her nail to the hinge of his jaw and prying his mouth loose of Jar-hidda's finger. The alien went to curiously inspecting the wound as Hannah set the lizard on the counter and moved to get a bandage. Jar-hidda rubbed his blood between his fingers, looking over at the lizard who hissed and spread his throat. The alien growled and spread his mandibles, hissing back.
Hannah stood still, holding a bandage, blinking. It was… funny to watch.
She snickered, drawing Jar-hidda's attention. Smaug's throat collapsed slightly as he closed his mouth and smacked his lips. The alien watched with curiosity as she put the band-aid around the small wound on his finger. He looked it over once she was finished and she moved to throw the wrapper away, making sure to back away from him rather than turn.
"Lizard," she finished and the alien looked at her, then at Smaug, who again threatened the much larger reptilian.