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Helfting his crutch, Thom paced after the soccer ball, giving it another lazy kick upon reaching it. Kick. Kick. Attempt to dribble. His leg might as well have been laughing at him, bloody useless thing. Scowling, Thom gave the ball a hard punt, sending it soaring off across the clean-cut lawn. Maybe he would retrieve it later.

Turning abruptly as if Zach had shouted a greeting, he glanced over at the horror-stricken dragon man, a nearly identical expression crossing his own face a split second later. Of all the people he had seen on the island, this one was by far the strangest (excluding perhaps Cassidy, but he was used to her by now). This creature resembled no living creature Thom had ever seen in his life, twisted and misshapen and...red? And scaled. But this man had retained his legs.

Thom cleared his throat, forcing the expression from his face, and offered a slight wave in greeting. He wasn't about to approach this...thing. He had heard some of the islanders were dangerous. Judging by appearances, he didn't doubt in the least that Zach was one of them. He allowed himself a second inspection of the stranger and promptly tensed, eyes narrowing in a glare as the tophat on Zach's head registered. Fear and common sense flew out the window, and Thom crutched his way towards the stranger, sneering. "Sabin's pet, are you?"

Thom's step faltered only briefly at the fearsome show--shoddy or not, the sight of a near-dragon puffing up and baring fangs was enough to make anyone's blood run cold. Nonetheless, just as quickly he continued forward, the cobra assuring him it was a just a show, an attempt by prey to seem too big for dinner.

His paced slowed as he neared the dragon man, though he only paused once he was a couple of feet from Zach, glare remaining as he contemplated the man. Sarcasm? Was that sarcasm? And was that a smile or a snarl? That damned, horribly, mocking hat...

Thom shrugged calmly and, shifting to stand correctly, passed his crutch to his right hand. He hefted it thoughtfully, watching Zach for a moment longer as if about to explain some elaborate insight, then swiped the make-shift weapon down at the dragon man's head, targeting the hat directly between his horns.

CLANG.

Following his attack on the hat, Thom hadn't had time to draw back the crutch before Zach reacted. This, combined with the short distance between him, saved his arm from an untimely demise. It wouldn't do for him to have one working and leg. Rather unnerved, but hiding it fairly easily with the knowledge that the hat was dead, he drew back the crutch and positioned it beneath his left arm once more, nonetheless taking a small step back from Zach.

"Mn. Call it instinct." That was a viable excuse. Everyone knew cobras hated tophats.

The stranger spoke, fell to his knees. Briefly, but only briefly, Thom felt a tad guilty over injuring the dragon man's mouth. But between the jab at his own receding hairline and Zach's speech impediment, any apologetic feelings flew out the window.

Indeed, before he knew it, Thom was laughing. Turning his back to Zach, he began crutching his way across the lawn after his soccer ball, shouting to no one in particular through his laughter. "I'm stuck on an' island in th' middle of nowhere, turnin' into a snake, talkin' to a dragon with a lisp wearin' a top hat!" Surely he had gone mad.

Thom ignored the shouts, far too busy laughing to heed Zach's calls, and simply continued across the lawn. Step, crutch, step; he graced Zach with a glance out of the corner of his eye when the dragon man caught up with him, though by then his laughter had died down, and instead he settled for a soft snicker at Zach's expense. The memory of the man's speech impediment was still fresh in his mind, and, as Zach looked like he was about to speak, Thom was all too sure he could expect further hissing and spitting.

However, when the words did come, they struck a nerve. Thom was already more than a bit strained, not at all thinking clearly, and it was the work of a moment for Zach's words to welcome to cobra to the situation. He pivoted on his tail to face Zach, moving with surprising ease despite his malformed leg, and hissed a warning, the half-hood on his neck flaring to its greatest extent. STRIKE!, the snake demanded, but in doing so Thom stumbled, overbalancing and remaining standing only by catching himself with his crutch.

The brief falter and reminder of humanity gave Thom the moment he needed to push the snake to the back of his mind, but the cobra was still present enough to have him baring nonexistant fangs, tail coiling up to propel him into a second strike should the need arise. "An' what d' you know of it?" he snarled, shaking a fist at the dragon man. "Right choice? Used to?! I'm used to playin' football on a daily basis. I'm use to 'avin millions an' travelin' around th' world t' risk my neck for a laugh. D'you 'ave any idea 'ow bloody sadistic it is t' take a man's legs when 'e relies on them most? Do you?!"

"People change," he hissed, the implied double meaning more than obvious. The snake was getting to him, he reluctantly admitted. Aside form the numerous physical changes, he was much more prone to sudden outbursts. The smallest threat to his stable surroundings unnerved him, made him irritable and likely to lash out at the least provocation. The cobra wanted its jungle, wanted the warm sand of the beachor the quiet of the trees. It wanted solitude.

Standing out in the open and arguing with a dragon man were not on the cobra's list of good activities. Gold eyes narrowed in a glare and he took a step towards Zach, barely managing to refrain from hitting him with the crutch again. "You 'aven't lost y' ruddy arm, man!" Or if he had at one point, he certainly had one now, so he had no room to complain. Besides, Thom would gladly have given up an arm if it meant keeping his legs. He could make due being one arm short. You didn't need arms to play football.

While Zach's retreat served as a little ego boost to the cobra, the snake was also pleased simply to have its own spaced once more, and thus quite content to allow the space between them, though his hood remained flared and his glare did not fade. Nonetheless, with the threat past, he allowed himself to relax, tone more mocking than angry.

"It grew back, did it? Well there, that corrupts your entire argument. You were an' unsuccessful, one-armed invalid b'fore the island, an' now you've grown a new arm, 'ave all your needs taken are of, an' can probably get away with anythin' because you're Sabin's pet." His eyes briefly flickered up to the crushed top hat, and he chuckled bitterly. "Pardon me for havin' a life t' miss."

His right hand leapt up to prevent the hat from hitting his face, snatching it out of the air before it could reach him. Shifting to lean against the crutch and free his arm, he inspected the crushed hat as Zach had, a look of smug satisfaction spreading across his face. Finally, pleased by his destruction of the garment, he popped the still-flattened hat onto his own head, left hand falling back to his crutch.

"No, it won't," he agreed thoughtfully, pretending to consider Zach's words. "Nor will it win me my old life. However," and he paused, flashing a grin. "It will win me the argument, which is more than you can claim." And, turning, he started back towards the duplexes.