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"Then you've been lucky. There's definitely a couple people out there who are so obsessed with themselves that they'll attack anyone who says something that doesn't agree with their little universe. It's not the first time someone here has tried to kill me. I guess it won't be the last." He resigned himself to chewing on another piece of meat, furious at the various attacks he had to suffer for wanting to stay on the island. It wasn't fair. "Escape. That's the most pointless thing of all. Even if someone gets off the island, what then? We're surrounded by an ocean. I guess I shouldn't be surprised they haven't thought far ahead."

"Oh, no, they hurt for a while. I don't know how they couldn't." He paused, as though faltering, but quickly regained his train of thought with redoubled focus. "But they were worth the pain. And either way, they're over. Why dwell on it?"

"Mostly punching, but I've been choked and bitten before too." Even having his whole body covered in scales, it didn't stop the itching of his injury. He arched his neck to the side a bit while he ran a claw down along the edge of one of the large holes in his neck. Only the thin barrier of bandage stopped him from outright clawing his neck to pieces over the past few days. He'd been lucky. So lucky. But if things continued as they did it was only a matter of time before even Sabin's promise of protection would not be enough, and someone would move too quickly to be buzzed out in time... "The more they fight to stay human, the less human they become. Their changes are just an excuse for them. But then again, in some sense that's what being 'human' is all about - fighting and killing consciously. I... I don't know how long I can survive being on the receiving end of it all though."

But it didn't do any good to get caught up in those thoughts. He wasn't that weak creature he used to be. No. He was a dragon. He was something to be feared, not to be fearful himself. He turned his attention to the beaver's other comment. It had been a year. A long year. He'd detached himself quite forcibly from society, and the bustling world that had once had no boundaries. Here there were several miles in all directions, and then ocean, going on endlessly. Like many other things about the island, a drastic change, but one that he had handled and forced himself to appreciate. This island was where he belonged. What other people thought of his appearance was probably not much different from the reactions he got from most islanders. Awe and admiration, as they should have felt in his presence. But unlike out the world, here he had... worth. Everyone here did. They just didn't value their luck in being a part of this project. "Well, it's why they bother that has me confused. But who'd think anything of one of back in the world? They've perfected special effects in movies. You, me, or anyone else, we'd just be some person in a convincing costume to them. Everyone there has abandoned us, Chana. Friends, family, every single person out there. Why do you think no one's come looking for anyone here? They've forgotten us."

Not that he honestly minded the abandonment by his so-called family. It was all part of the haze that purposely clouded his memories. Others might, though he didn't particularly understand.

"Even if that's the case, it doesn't make what they're doing right," he huffed in frustration. They were wrong, after all, letting this... madness... drive them to become even worse what they were so adamantly opposed to being. He chewed on a piece of meat while he gave her grin an unamused stare. He was rather fond of not having injuries, and didn't like constantly being battered around. He'd been an amputee before once, he'd put up with enough. "And I shouldn't have to hide. Is that all we can do when someone threatens us? I ought to be able to live here without having to worry who's going to come at me next."

"Or maybe both." He leaned his head forward slightly, intrigued by the wavering uncertainty in her voice. He knew he'd been right the whole time. It was almost worrying how long it took for others to realize their predicament and how they could avoid the pain and suffering that many of them seemed to prefer. Martyrs for an idiotic cause, all of them. "You had to realize it sooner or later. They aren't coming to find you. But you can move on and forget those people and that life. Enjoy what you're provided with here. This is an opportunity."

"Of course I know that. Anyone could drop dead at any time. But unlike diseases or natural disasters, this is a problem that can be solved." He had to hold back a growl at her accusation that he was whining. All he wanted was a life where his mortality would not have to keep coming into question constantly. "I just don't know what to do yet."

He'd finished his steak a little while earlier, and didn't really have much reason to stay in the cafeteria now. The conversation hadn't gone as he'd hoped it would. She was quite adamantly against listening to him speak the truth of their situation. He pulled himself back, a victorious smile playing lightly along his snout. After pulling himself heavily to his feet and collecting his tray, he let his expression look more sympathetic. "If they really cared, they'd find a way. But... as we can both see, they don't."

And with that parting statement he went to take care of the tray and leave. He'd need to refill his prescription of pain pills soon. His neck was still killing him.