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New RP!
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Tommy woke up from a nap feeling even worse than when he first lay down. Of course, sleeping in his chair each and every night since Sabin had removed his ben hasn't helped any. It was better than the jungle though, that much he was sure of. He wiped the sleep from his eyes with the palm of his hand as he made his way to the piano. Sitting there for a moment, he stared at the ivory and black sea that was in front of him. He placed his distended hands on the keys and tried to start playing The Moonlight Sonata but his hands just felt...wrong. Jesus...figures I'd get sick in my own duplex instead of in the jungle. He stands, wanting some fresh air.

His feeling of aching grogginess only got worse as he made his way to the cafeteria, but a gnawing hunger drove him foreward. He squinted against the bright lights of the chow hall after he pushed open the doors. Shaking his head, he rubs his nose with the back of his hand as he makes his way to the buffet line.

Everything swam. At least in Tommy's eyes. He felt like he was moving underwater. His eye blinked a few times at the sight of Newt, but alas, no recognition lit the surface of his face. His hands continued to ache more and more, the ache turning into pain. He crosses his arms over his chest, bracing his hands under his armpits. Sweat pours from his brow as he realizes that he's not going to make it to the buffet line. Collapsing in the closest chair he can find, it's the only thing that seems to keep him vertical.

"...H...hey there," he mutters toward Newt. Tommy doesn't realize just how bad of shape he's in as he tries to be polite with the other person in the chow hall.

Tommy blinks, once...twice...ah, there's the recognition we've been looking for, "Hmm? Oh...oh! Um..." Jesus, what do I tell him? No, it didn't work out 'cause Moreau isn't dead? *sigh* forget it, just make him happy. "Y...yeah, it worked out fine...thanks." He tries to give a smile, but something looks odd about it. Two previously smaller teeth have begun to lengthen visibly. Tommy frowns some as he tastes the first few drops of blood in his mouth. He isn't given much time to worry about this because his hands have begun a renewed assault on his pain receptors. His eyes go wide, jaw gritting, as his fingers begin to make popping noises.

All Tommy can do is let out a gutteral expellation of breath as he drops to his knees. A sound draws his pleading eyes toward the island counter, looking for someone, anyone, who could be there with him. His watering deadlights turn to his upturned hands as he stares in horror. His already distended fingers stretch out longer...longer...longer than his forearms. "Jesus!" he sputters out through clenched jaw, flecks of blood spraying out, "********' s**t!" he yells as he's thrown foreward by a violent pop of his hips.

Tommy's hips began their slow, crunching migration to the sides. The ball sockets of his femur grinding horribly against his pelvic bone. If he weren't wearing his jeans and boots, one would be able to see his legs thin out and his feet contort even further. But after a few minutes of hell, Tommy just lays there gasping. It's...goddamn it's over... He thinks it's over. It's gotta be over! It's not over...as Tommy will soon find out. For the moment though, he just sits there, panting. He thanks whoever is out there looking out for him that his face didn't change...*sigh*

"Guh...I...it's over...Jesus...God it's over..." he calls out to the cowering Newt.

Tommy shakes his head a few times, trying to clear the grogginess from it. All he manages to do is looks drunk as he lolls his head to look at Newt. There's a flash as he 'sees' the blood run through his body....another flash and it goes again, almost in rythm to Newt's heart beat (kinda fast too...guy needs to check his blood pressure). He blinks his eyes in amazement...and something else. To Newt though, he'd see what can only be described as hunger in Tommy's eyes. And before both of them, the cartilidge in his nose smashes up against his face like he just went twenty rounds with Mike Tyson. Blood oozes from the nostrils as it fans out into a distinctive leaf-like shape. While this is going on though, his entire head seems to expand and contort, ears broadening, and general nasty crunching sounds prevails.

Tommy covers his face with his enormous hands and screams from pain.

Tommy's thrashing cease abruptly as everything finally settles down. His trembling hands slowly remove themselves from his face, showing Newt the monstrosity he has become. He stares at Newt for a long while, no real emotion going through his visage. His lips twitch every now and then as he tries to close his mouth completely...sadly though, nothing really fits right. Again the newly formed heat sensors in his nose act up and he sees the blood pulsing through Newt. "...Newt...ton..." he mutters out, his speech severly slurred by his clustered up mouth.