Title: Eat Something
Summary: Torn's unhealthily skinny. We should fix that...
POV: None (at least consistently)
Rating: PG
A/n: Finally, a new addition! And its FUNNY. Kinda. Maybe, I donno, its supposed to be. Anyways, this one goes out to Nashi's Kid sister, cuz she rocks for many a reason.
-.-.-.-.-
"We're old friends."
Both Jak and Daxter nodded in understanding. It would explain why the blonde seemed slightly closer to their oh-so friendly rebel leader than most. Funny, though. One would think people like Tess and Torn would clash too much to get along.
"So, how far back do you two go?" Daxter asked, eager to learn more about his sweety-pie. Oh, and maybe get some blackmail on the ex-commander. That would always be a plus. "We talking diapers?"
"About!" Tess grinned, obviously fond of this subject. "We grew up on the same street. After that, we just kept bumping into each other."
"And as he always been…" Jak trailed off, bringing his hands up parallel to one another with a little gap of air between.
"Built like a freakin' twig?" Daxter finished, translating.
To both boys' surprise, Tess shook her head. Her expression had saddened slightly. "Nope. He used to look lots healthier. He just hasn't been eating properly."
Jak and Daxter exchanged glances.
-.-.-.-.-
Contrary to popular belief, Torn did sleep. It was about as regular as every new moon, but he did sleep. It was never for long--maybe two to three hours at a time--and the hero and his furry companion and learned that after awaking, the brunette could be even more of a prune than usual.
It was coming back from the Hip Hog that they found Torn in such a state.
Risking his very life, Daxter jumped from Jak's shoulder to prod the ex-commander in the shoulder. After dodging the reflexive swat that had trigged, it became apparent Torn was, in fact, quite dead to the world. "Jeez," the fur-ball muttered. "He's out cold."
"We'll just come back later then," stated Jak. He held out his arm for his friend to scamper back up but, to his surprise, Dax stayed where he was on the cot.
"Hold on." Daxter turned and grinned up at Jak, the expression implying some malicious intent. "I wanna do something first."
-.-.-.-.-
Torn blinked down at his desk.
A couple minutes ago, he'd finished with his weekly nap. He'd gotten up, stretched, listened to his joints pop and cursed--his usual waking routine. This, however, was not usual.
Taped over his map of the stadium district was a piece of paper. On this paper, in horrible, scribbly handwriting was a very idiotic message.
"Dear Torn,
Eat something.
-The Underground"
And there was much face palming.