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Alec had been too lost in his own thoughts to event realize how talkative and energetic Billy was acting, so much so that when he did he immediately felt a guilty. The change was remarkable to say the least, compared to the sluggish lump of tentacles that he could remember from before. Frankly, to see him feeling better made him cheer up a little. Was it possible he'd fought for that small piece of freedom back... and won? It was a very encouraging thought.

The boy came to a stop by the bar and smiled a little at Billy when he heard the news. "Ay, fair play. 'Am glad ye feelin' betteh." Eyes shifted to follow the burly man as he moved behind the counter to grab some drinks for the lot of them, but it was the stool infront of him that was now the focus of his attention. He'd watched enviously and almost in awe of Billy's dexterity as the man managed to pull himself up onto a stool, the act causing him to want to try it himself though he was much more hesitant. The sharkboy shifted in his seat and merely glanced up at the counter like a puppy banished from the dinner table though he struggled to continue the conversation like nothing was out of place. "Stage? Like... a circus?" The young boy attempted to arch an eyebrow, trying to visualize the man's dream.

After securing the Jack Daniel's lid, Oz looked hesitantly at his glass. He'd purposefully poured himself less than the others but that still didn't make it any easier to drink. After months of slowly weaning himself of that seductive liquid in its many forms, after only a brief time of proudly saying he was sober, here he was. A glass of whisky poured and ready to swig. His hesitation was obvious in the repeated grasping and releasing of the glass.

Inside, a war was waging in his head, thankfully distracted by the conversation at hand every now and then. Heh, every Islander had now become an animal performer in Oz's head, and the image of Jamal the tiger-man in a tutu could not be stricken from mind. That rbought a smile to his face, but should he say it to anyone, it'd probably bring claws to his neck.

The collar was a might more distrubing to learn of, his face somehow managing to go a little paler.

"Can...can they put a collar on anyone?"

"Aye, I s'pose they coul', bu I aint seen no one else wit' one," He seemed almost proud, like the collar was some sort of sick trophy.

He wormed a tentacle around his drink once it was pored, lifting it up as though to drink but stopped befor it came to his lips, "Oh, I don' know aboo' tha', lad. M'sure I coul' find y'somet'in' t'do aboo' th'place! Wha're y'goo' at?"

Alec didn't even notice the large hand that was moving his drink further into his reach, too focused on the object itself to care much that he had needed help to acquire it. Once he had the vessel in his hands he quickly took a gulp, immediately regretting his eagerness. The burn of the cool liquid slid down his throat but the stinging in his gills made him visibly shudder. "Blech." He stuck out a fleshy tongue but didn't surrender the drink just yet.

"Uh? Oh.... A' d'neh." The young boy honestly replied with a bewildered look on his face. What could he do? Hell, nothing really. He could play the druns but.... no he couldn't. Not anymore, not ever. The realization stung worse than the strong drink and he slumped back in his chair as he tried to think. He couldn't do anything anymore. Not like this.

Oz finally took a swig of the whisky, and whilst his reaction wasn't as bad as Alec's, it still wrinkled his face and made him pat his large chest in order to work it through. His first drink in over a month and it was whisky. Classy.

"I'm sure you'll be fine Alec," he said, voice a little rasp as he recovered from the drink. "A project as big as a theatre is going to need loads of people on hand, depending on how sophisitcated its going to be."

How did Oz know about this? He had an actor for an older brother and couldn't count the number of times he'd been back stage when dragged to his brother's performances.

"Girls with fuzzy boobs, a hit only on an Island full of guys with fuzzy knobs," he laughed.

"Put th'normies on th'stage an' pelt fruit at 'em," He laughed, "Jes' trade me a fish a bushel an' swing yer heart out!" He liked that idea, and he hadn't even drank yet. He was sure the shot in his tentacle would only make the ideas flow faster. No one thought of drink as a drug, really, anyway, right? And he'd just gotten stoned, afterall, where was the harm in it? He felt the collar dig into his neck, but ignored it. He never really liked being sober anyway. "Bottoms up, eh?" And with that, the glass clinked against his mutated teeth.

Normies? He thought to himself, imagining the situation. It was true that the teenager now felt a thick barrier between any unchanged individuals he met, remembering his seething anger he'd felt towards Victor the day they met. Whether it was jealousy, misplaced anger or simply uncontrollable rage, Alec knew for sure that he'd been prepared to harm an innocent man that day. But putting them up on stage? Heh... he'd surely find something more meaningful to throw than fruit. Despite Oz's polite conversing, it fell on deaf ears to the preoccupied Alec. His mind was a very dark place right now.

With a sideglance towards Billy he brought his own drink to his toothy mouth with nothing more to add at the moment. "Bo'ems up." The boy murmured quietly and drank down the liquid, only this time he relished the painful burn.