Toffee knew he must've been exhausted when he slept clean through the night.
Still groggy from the morning chill, he cracked open an eye with a groan. the sun was peeking over the horizon, it's light creeping across the floorboards. Toffee watched until it reached him, the sun warming his scales and his blood, and he began to wake up fully.
Toffee sat up, stretched, then thought about what he'd do, taking in the room around him.
The frame looked as old as the house, but thankfully, the mattress was far newer.
He could sneak out the window, but Pythor knew this place better than he did, and getting lost in the desert was the last thing he needed right now.
He crept over to the dresser and rifled through it a bit. He found no weapons, but alongside clothing, his host had stored canned food.
He also noted, with some annoyance, a lack of pants, but given Pythor's anatomy, that was hardly a surprise.
He peaked under the bed. Canned food by the box.
As he turned for the door, his foot hit upon a loose floorboard,
knocking it out of place.
Looking down, he noticed that canned food had been hidden under there as well.
When he creaked open the bedroom door, Pythor was already up, packing supplies.
When he heard Toffee come in, he turned around with a smile, "I'm almost ready to head out!" He said, sounding downright giddy, "there's a town about an hour's travel from here" he said, shoving in a couple more water bottles, "although, with you tagging along, it may take a bit longer"
Toffee hardly heard him.
Pythor's body was covered in one massive scar. It looked like burn.
Whatever had happened to Pythor would've been agony, even for a septarian. He could tell that this man's survival had been nothing short of a miracle.
"Hey, keep your eyes to yourself" Pythor said, pulling his robe tighter, "I don't stare at your scars"
Toffee glanced at his hands. Indeed, they were scarred, scales grown back pale or deformed were they'd grown back at all. No doubt his face was similarly marred.
"My apologies, I haven't seen scars that extensive before". Not outside of his own species, at least.
"Another thing I have Wu to thank for" said Pythor, turning away as he zipped up his backpack and heaved it over his shoulder.
They set off, Pythor leading the way.
It was slow going over the sand, Toffee was just grateful that his companion was willing to slow down for him.
For most reptiles, the encroaching heat should be invigorating, hot enough to warm the blood and get you moving, not so hot you couldn't travel
But as they walked, Pythor's movement slowed, lips parted in a pained wince. His wounds must've been bothering him.
Toffee frowned but held off on mentioning it until he found himself spending more time waiting for his guide than following him.
"Maybe we should rest" he said, eyeing a decent sized rock they could shelter under.
Pythor nodded wordlessly, allowing Toffee to lead them to shelter.
He sat with his back against the rock, tail curled around his legs as Pythor flopped down next to him with a sigh, laying in the sun.
"Are you okay?" Toffee asked.
"Ohhh, I'm fine, just a bit tired" Pythor said, "nothing a quick rest can't fix"
Toffee nodded, "good" he sat back, eyeing the sun's placement.
"Tell me about yourself" said Pythor.
Toffee glanced over at him, "what?"
Pythor smiled, lazily sweeping his tail across the sand as he lay on his stomach, staring up at Toffee.
"Tell me about yourself, I'd like to know who I'm going to be working with"
As he spoke, Pythor's eyes drifted to Toffee's chest before flicking away. Toffee pretended not to notice.
"Well..." Toffee trailed off, taking a moment to think. "I was a general, for a while. I'm retired now, but some called me a hero.
Between you and me, I'm inclined to agree with them"
"Oh, what a life you must've lived!" Pythor said, eyes lighting up,
"Tell me, do you have any war stories?"
Toffee laughed, pride rising within him. "Oh, I've got war storied that'd turn your stomach" he said.
"I don't know about that" said Pythor, "I've got a strong stomach"
Pythor, indeed, had a strong stomach.
Toffee had a blast testing that out, though, going into lurid detail about solarian hunts and lizard farm raids.
His companion enjoyed every moment, laughing at Toffee's gory description of dispatching one of Solaria's rogue soldiers with his scimitar.
As Toffee began to tire of speaking, the subject shifted to Pythor.
"My life was wonderful back then" he started, with the tone of someone who loved nothing more than talking about himself, "me and my brother traveled the world, rubbing elbows with the upper crust, he was a great artist, and I was a great salesman. We made quite a living off his work, let me tell you!" He said with a laugh.
Toffee smiled, politely. He had to admit, he found Pythor's stories of the inane lives of Ninjago's upper crust to be... Grating, to say the least, and he didn't know the first thing about art, but he tried to listen and nod at all the right points. Pythor had been quite a help to him. It was the least he could do.
The two ate a little, and drank a little, and Toffee couldn't help but drift off after a while, the warmth of the desert lulling him to sleep.
When he awoke, Pythor was still there, watching him.
Toffee had a brief moment of panic, realizing he'd been defenseless around the stranger, but quickly realized that nothing had been done to him, and relaxed.
"Shall we get going?" asked Pythor with a smile.
Toffee blinked, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.
"Yes" he said, "I would like that"
It was already dark when they reached the town.
Pythor assured him no one would care, but Toffee was grateful for the empty streets, keenly aware of his bare lower half.
No trains came threw at this hour, but Pythor bought them each a hotel room to stay in for the night.
Toffee settled in, pleasantly surprised at how soft the mattress was.
It was too early for bed, but, to his chagrin, he found nothing he could read- the books he found on the hotel shelves was written in a language he didn't recognize.
Dejected, he riffled though the meager material until he found something he could understand.
Thin volumes printed on low quality paper, they seemed to tell a story mostly through pictures, with words only acting as a supplement.
Toffee amused himself by filling in those words in his head, spinning his own stories about this mysterious space traveler, with his odd,
futuristic weapons, until it was time to go to bed.