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"So you've met Ambrose." Somehow, the name brought up some of the old, stilted emotions, and she found herself puzzled that it carried such a strange note with her. This emotional interlude had dragged old emotions- ones that were long dead and would remain that way- to the surface in an awkward way. "He's a very good man. ...I've not seen him for a while. ...How is he?"

"When he was... transforming? He's transformed again?" Emelyn was surprised. Had it really been that long since she'd seen him? She tried to conjure up an image of what he'd looked like before- back in the early days, when they were all still just humans, sitting around a cafeteria table talking over each other.

The memory... was too fuzzy for her tastes.

There wasn't much to say to that. It was as hard to imagine what Ambrose looked like now- as it was to remember exactly what he was before he had been... tainted. Beyond that, she didn't want to think on it- to remind herself that she didn't even know what she looked like. Some things are too painful to set upon the tip of your consciousness. It's better to balance them- somewhere in the back, where they can spin, unknowing of your main psyche.

"Have you met many others?"

"Sounds like me. ...After Moreau told me, I locked myself in my duplex for a week. Of course, I was also feeling guilty." She stopped, then waved her hand up as if to erase the words from the air. "But that's a long story."

"...Lucas?" It was more of a statement than a question- and yet, that hint of an uplift in her voice changed the nature of it completely. "I think you're aiming to know more about me than anyone else on the island." It was a peculiar statement- said... in an equally peculiar tone of voice.

"Well... to try and make the long story a little shorter... I agreed when Moreau asked me to be on 'his side', and to undergo the experiments willingly. He said all these things that sounded wonderful, like he was going to cure cancer and that he wasn't really going to hurt anyone. I believed him- and I was in just the right place to be a foolish, dumb martyr about it, and feel like I was giving my life up for something that mattered. I don't have anyone to go back home to, so it wouldn't be like I was making them suffer for my absence. ...I was just..." she stopped, the writer in her searching for the right word. "Floating, anyway. So what did it matter if I stopped in a place where I might do some good? But I still felt guilty enough for volunteering for something that had put so many of the other islander's lives in this hell. I didn't want to face them- and I was still playing the martyr. There. Wish you hadn't asked now, hm?" It was said in a mirthful tone. But she was only half-kidding.

"Yes, I think I did know. We'd all talked about how we got to the island over cafeteria meals- wondering why we were all there for different reasons. ...I don't think I put two and two together until after I agreed, though. ...I know that sounds like I'm trying to make it right- but I really don't think it was on my mind. It was only afterwards that it happened."

A small huff of a laugh escaped her lips. Reuben's ears perked up- the huffing noise was similar to a command she had to tell him to wait- but when she continued to speak, he calmed again into his prone position, curled protectively around his 'mother'.

"You know, I wasn't even supposed to come to the island. My boat capsized in a storm. ...I guess the island saved my life."

"Well, at least you'll get to examine some 'bizarre wildlife' in reality. ...Down to the bones of the place, it's pretty interesting... if it wasn't the end of our free lives, that is. ..And no." Another huff of a laugh escaped- but Reuben ignored this one. "It was my Grandfather's boat. He left it to my sister and me... but I never wanted to take it out until... after. When it sank down to the reefs around the island, that was the first time I'd ever taken The Wilhemina out for a true cruise."

"After she died. Cancer." Four words that twisted her from the inside out.