[b]Day 2: Sunrise; "Kitchen"[/b]

Tyrelle had been in the tent designated as a mess hall since about the time Ana herself would have arrived to begin cooking, he himself arriving not long after the cook and asking if she'd mind if he simply sat in the tent, though offering his help if she wanted it. By that point, he had been awake for hours, awakened late into the night ─ or perhaps it was early into the morning... ─ by one of his recurring nightmares. He had long since conditioned himself not to yell out on waking, having faced enough judgment from his adoptive father over the years; the man who scoffed at the idea of sending the boy to therapy following his rescue. That wasn't to say that Tyrelle hadn't been [i]receiving[/i] therapy in response to his trauma, it just had always been something Desmond looked down upon.
By the time others began to still and mill about the tent, Tyrelle had grown tired again, his lack of sleep finally catching up with him, and he soon sat himself at a table where he hoped to be alone. A poor hope that had been as the man who had become his guardian soon joined him with a helping of food for each of them. Tyrelle didn't need to have heard the conversation to know that the man had been [i]asked[/i] to bring him food, for he knew that Desmond would not have thought of it alone. He listened to his guardian brattle on about their situation and how he expected Tyrelle to help him and the other security workers on the reconnaissance team. Figured. The boy had had no choice in coming along on the C-130 mission to begin with, so it didn't surprise him that the man was once again giving him no choice but to comply with his wishes.

Merely picking at his rehydrated eggs, Tyrelle began to block out the words of his guardian, as well as the noise of the rest of the tent. It was getting too crowded for his liking, and he was beginning to feel the need for fresh air, but knew that Desmond wouldn't let him just up and leave without some cutting response about his lack of eating. And so he continued to push the food around, jaw visibly tight, only occasionally allowing a bite to make its way into his mouth. As Desmond went on to ramble about how Tyrelle should get to know some of the younger girls among the survivors, because maybe a woman would help keep his head out of whatever cloud he often went to, the boy felt as though he were losing more brain cells than usual and abandoned his food by that point to bury his head in his hands. He was tired, and he felt sick to his stomach, not to mention his body still ached [i]everywhere[/i] from his fall the previous day; getting relationship advice was just about the [i]last[/i] thing he needed at that moment, maybe even less so than a hole in the head.
When Carol showed up and took Desmond away, he honestly couldn't hold back his sigh of relief.

"[i]Finally[/i]," he'd muttered before looking up as Paula seemed to want his attention. He stood to follow the woman, abandoning his food entirely. The boy was grateful as the woman led him away from the crowd, visibly relaxing a degree as they reached a sense of being alone. He listened, somewhat absently, as she spoke of the day before, answering whatever questions she had about the trek in short, precise responses that seemed almost practiced. They weren't. Of course, they weren't. Desmond hadn't had time for that. Tyrelle simply had been at this, whatever one wanted to consider what 'this' was, for so many years that it was his natural response. All the more, Tyrelle could tell that Paula was skirting around something, but just as he was about to ask her to get to the point, she did, and suffice was to say, he was a bit caught off guard.

Looking at Paula with his mouth partially open, he blinked. Once. Twice. Something in his bi-colored gaze was reaching out, absolutely begging to be heard, but just as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and the boy looked away from the interim security chief to look down at the ground instead as he responded.

"Adopted," he said shortly, "Desmond adopted me. Otherwise, no relation. Step-father would be married in," he added the last part in a quiet mumble, not sure if it was impolite to be correcting someone who was quite certainly considered his superior, regardless of whether or not he actually wanted to be on the team. Swallowing, he shifted his weight to the other side as he went on to say, "But to answer your initial question, yes ma'am, everything is fine between me and the old man. This is just...how we are, I guess...it doesn't matter much, really... You don't have to worry. If anything, I've just been tired, ma'am," he explained to her then and finally lifted his gaze once more to meet hers, steely and confident, too much so for someone so young, "The trek yesterday was a lot more than I'm used to," he told her, "and after falling and getting soaked...it was just a lot, but I'll survive, and once I have a chance to have some proper rest again, I'm sure everything'll be more than fine. Until then though, I assure you, there's nothing to be concerned about."