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"We don't need anythin', but yeah, maybe I might jus' make a little...appearance..." He wasn't actually thinking about going to the camp to get anything. More like to scope out the place and see if he could learn anything about the situtation at hand with the lockout. The man's nose wrinkled at the altruistic "help each other" attitude of the girl but he didn't comment on it.

At the mention of the spear, he lifted a brow. Another weapon wouldn't hurt...and it'd be one less thing to make. He moved to take it from her hand since she apparently was willingly giving it up. Jamal wasn't going to pass up freebies. The helicopter crash was news to him, though...he didn't remember anyone telling him about it...though at the time he might have been told, he was higher than a kite.

"Who crashed?" he inquired with a sudden interest, his icy blue eyes gaining a manic gleam. If it was Moreau, that was the most he could hope for...since obviously Ambrose was still alive and kicking from Amaya's report.

Jamal tried to ignore the girl's deformed hand as best he could, deciding that he ought to not throw stones when he obviously was in no better position than her. The spear was set against the crook of his arm and he lazily wrapped his thickened digits around the shaft to test the strength of it. His gaze lost most of the glare, gaining an indifferent sort of look that matched his facial expression. So the far the girl was doing good at not ticking him off, so he was losing interest in trying to scare her or whatnot. As long as she was smart, she'd be fine.

"I think I'll pretend it was da ********' b*****d Moreau 'til we know fo' sho," he finally remarked with a huff, whiskers flicking with the motion of his mouth. "Somethin' gotta be up if we all scattered all ova' 'n' da place locked down tighta' than a county jail...and it betta be good 'cause I'm gettin' real tired of this livin' in da wild bullshit." It was seriously cramping his style.

Jamal blinked slowly, looking pensive for a moment. She did have a point.

"Well, I'm sure he had otha people who work on dis wit' him...maybe they wanted ta keep da project goin' or somethin'. Take the 'glory' fo' themselves. Dat ain't impossible." Jamal knew enough gloryhogs from his life in the hood to know that people would do whatever necessary if it meant that they might get some fame out of it. In truth, he had as little idea to what had happened as most of the other islanders, but he didn't want to admit it.

He stooped over to pick up one of the fallen breadfruit, examining it with pursed lips and a skeptical air. These things were weird.

Jamal's sensitive ears heard the growl and he almost smirked, but manage to keep a straight face.

"A'ight..." he said in acknowledgement of directions to the camp, filing it away in case he needed to drop in for some reason or another. "Fair enough." Jamal didn't extend the invitation for her to come to his camp, nor did he give directions; he didn't want moochers coming to ask for meat or whatever. He did, however, in a gesture of rarely witnessed goodwill, picked up two more of the large, oblong shaped fruit and offered them to her. Maybe it was because she was a kid or maybe because she hadn't commented on his appearance...in either case, he didn't have a problem with her.

"Consider it a trade fo' da spear. Dat 'n I prolly got too many ta carry anyway," he grunted, giving his whiskers another twitch. "They 'sposed ta be good...Anjali said they were 'n' I figger dat if anyone gonna know dat, she gonna. Bein' a gardener 'n' all dat..."

He nodded stiffly in acknowledgement, watching her leave before stooping to gather up his fruit, careful to pick only the ones that weren't split open or bruised from the fall to the jungle floor. Hopefully Antony would have use for them...coconut had to be getting old by now.

--New RP--

After his attack on Em, Jamal had retreated to the deepest, thickest part of the jungle he could find amidst his panic, and found himself in a semi-familiar area that he had remembered camping in during the stint in the wilderness. The black man had no idea what to do with himself; while the comforting familiarity of his scent lingered here, he felt as though he could never be comfortable anywhere again. Jamal was afraid of what was going to happen to him now that he'd gone after Em...he lost himself to his instincts AGAIN.

The assault on Aubrey hadn't bothered him; he figured the woman deserved it. Em, however, had done nothing to him but be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The tiger inside him was smug, having acted purely on an instinct that came naturally, and continued to linger in the background as though nothing had happened. Unfortunately this beast's ideals conflicted with human's society of what was allowable and what wasn't. Jamal had almost murdered Em! What was he going to do if he went after Awen, Antony, or Anjali? The former two had already dealt with his claws and the last had only escaped his wrath because he had been desperate for a meal at their last meeting (and large bars tended to block his path).

Though Jamal would never admit it, he wished that he had gotten an animal that was easier to manage even if it would have been a pansy animal. It seemed that the tiger fueled itself off his anger at the worst times and had a cunning that definately outdid his own 9 times out of 10. It brought out the cold-blooded killer in him that he had tried to hid desperately since he'd be put here. It was true that the murder back in Detriot had been an accident. He had only meant to maim, not kill, that man he had shot, yet the news of the death had only made him worry about his freedom, not the impact the man's death would have on his family.

Jamal hauled himself into a decently sized tree, fighting back the urge to scream his frustrations into the jungle air, and had curled up against the tree's trunk in an attempt to get some sleep to settle his nerves. Time would heal all wounds, right?

---------------

Crackle.

Snap.

Jamal startled upright, hands planting firmly on the rough bark of the branch he lay upon, pupils widening to catch every strain of light that filtered through the forest canopy. Something was moving below his tree...a dark blur that seemed to move remarkably fast for it's size, yet it made very little sound aside from a snappd twig now and then as it circled randomly below. He squinted, hanging his head over and down just past the top of the branch as he strained to see what it was, his breathing growing slightly labored as a feeling of anxiety clutched his chest.

"No use hidin', Jamal," came a sudden voice, a hand snaking out of the darkness below and grabbing him by the throat, making him audibly yelp as hard, sharp nails bit into his flesh. The arm disappeared into the darkness below, giving no view of what or who was below.

"Let me da ******** go!" he snapped, gasping for breath as he fumbled with a hand outwards to latch onto the wrist of his attacker, his own claws piercing down into the pale flesh there, dribbles of red-black blood swirling down the stranger's arm into the shadows, mixing with striations of darker coloration resembling stripes. He didn't even think that this was oddly familiar being that he was a little preoccupied with the fist at his throat.

The voice laughed, a light hiss at the end as it took a breath, the grip constricting until the black man cried out and pitched forward, losing his grip on the tree branch for a moment as he instinctively reached out with the other hand to pry at the offending hand's fingers.

"Ya can't fight yo'self, Jamal. Ya can't do it...ya always lose 'n' ya know it." The voice was full of mockery and condescending edging that made Jamal's temper ******** you!" he choked, clawing madly at the stranger's hand, tearing flesh from muscle yet never weakening the vice grip on his throat. His thoughts were starting to swim and his eyes grew cloudy, rasping breath barely pulling enough air in for a sigh.

"Give up Jamal. Ya know you ain't nuthin'. You ain't nuthin' ta nobody herr. You jus' a booty call fo' Antony, a disappointment ta Awen, and a stain on yo' family's name. This life is betta. Let da tiger make the choices. It knows what it's doin'. You don't know nuthin'."

"N...Neva! I ain't....ain't..." Jamal coughed, face squinching in pain as he again tried to stab his claws into the arm that clenched about his windpipe.

"Da only thing you is be an animal. You ain't nuthin' but a beast...you ain't never gonna fit in wit' them otha' people. You can't do it....you..."

Jamal wanted to respond but he couldn't. His lips had turned an ashy purple and the rushing blood in his ears drowned out the rest of the words. He couldn't even hold onto his perch any longer. Regardless of this, he felt a severe tug on the grip at his throat and he fell forward into the open air, eyes slipping shut and body going limp before he could even think to save himself.


((TBC when I have time. Yay dream sequence))

Jamal leaned against 'his' tree, scowling bitterly into the distance as his stomach gave a horrid rumble in demand for food, and tried to ignore the urge to get up and stalk something down in the jungle. He could faintly smell jungle creatures now and then...nothing he could personally identify, but all of which seemed like possible prey items to the tiger. Most if not all lacked the signature scent that a predator tended to carry.

"Not gunna do it," he muttered to himself, forcing his claws into the soil below. "Not afta' the otha' day. I ain't a animal."

The tiger was growing irritable, not being able to exercise it's instincts and digging Jamal's fangs and claws into flesh, and hovered over his mind as it waited for an opportune moment to sneak in and seize control again.