PAUCILOQUENT – (adj) uttering few words; brief in speech
Tyce continued past the plane wreckage away from the Boomette. He did her a favor; that was all he wanted to do. If that got her to stop hating him, that was all he would ever need and he could die happy.
He ducked into his shelter and climbed the only sturdy pair of stairs to the fifth floor and his broken apartment. It was too early for him to be exerting this kind of energy; he was a night hunter, not a day one.
He curled onto his pile of collected clothing and stared at the broken window. A bluebird had perched itself upon the sill, turning its tiny head in curiosity towards the behemoth. It hopped into the room and over towards him, still turning its head every now and again.
He glanced before him at a pile of hardened bread that he had been using as a pillow. He slowly reached around and brought it to his lap.
"Bbbrreeeeaaddd?" he asked in a slow, gravelly voice.
He tore open the wrapping between two fingers and poured crumbs into his hand. The bird hopped even closer and onto his calloused skin. He held perfectly still as it pecked away the meager crumbs.
"Gooooddddd bbiiiirrrdddddiiiieeee."
It felt nice to be able to just sit, with the cutest creature sitting upon his palm. It felt nice to be human again. Or, to be as close as possible.