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As if Oz's face could have dropped any lower. The guilt and obvious apology was scribbled across his face. He looked down at his twiddling fingers, so much smaller compared to the lengthening palms. But even slouching as he was, he was taller than Marshall when sat down, emphasising his mishapen new form.

"I'm...sorry...I didn't know...what was going to happen," he said slowly.

"Its not like there are any warning signs," he kept rambling, trying to make excuses for himself.

He continued to wring his large hands now that he had no meal to pick at nervously. Palms rolled over palms and fingers locked into fingers in this nervous habit. Why was he still being like this? He'd said sorry, what else could he do? Did Marshall want him to beg for forgiveness?

Even though Marshall's attack made Oz quite cowardly at first, he was starting to grow a little impatient. True, he couldn't deny that a bleeding nose was suspicious but after working hard at the construction site, after months of being inactive, the stress and strain could trigger a nose bleed. And Oz made sure Marshall knew this.

"Hey, have you ever broken your nose? Do you know what it does to the inside? You can't get through a single cold or flu without a bleed," he began fairly light-hearted with a slight sniping undertone.

Oz felt quite hurt now, like he was being accused of some heinous crime. He should feel guilty up to a point...

Oz could have made a comment about Marshall not missing anything really, since he was just going to lose his 'good arm' anyway. But that seemed too insensitive for this moment in time. And even though Oz might not have made it clear right then, he could relate. The injury to his knee had ended his career.

"If theres anything I can do to kind make up for things, you let me know, right?" he said, for lack of anything supportive.

Oz stared in stunned silence at the spot where Marshall was, and had soon vacated. He craned his ehad around to follow the penguin as he began to leave, an incredible sense of hurt washing over him. He'd made the effort to say sorry, he'd done everything in his power, so why did it feel like Marshall just didn't accept the apology?

He put forehead to table in frustration, gritting his teeth in hopelessness. And then it happened.

Oz growled viciously and stood up sharply, sending his chair scrambling across the floor.

"Just what is your ******** problem?! You're not the only one to lose something in this insane asylum you know. Look around you. No one looks like they used to, they aren't the same people any more. Some have lost legs for ******** sake!" he ranted, standing at his full height and looking quite menacing.

"Hey! You're not the only one pissed off at the moment. I look like an understudy for a bad horror movie, I-I daren't even look in a mirror anymore!" he ranted back, giving as good as he got in the yelling stakes.

Oz was being a little selfish right about now. He could relate to poor Marshall, but all he thought about was how the labs had robbed HIM of his life. Not how the labs had done bad unto Marshall. In between his little rants, a disturbing and increasingly angry sounding growl emanated from Oz.

"And just because you're pissed off at the labs or whatever, doesn't mean you can be pissed at everyone else! Its not anyone else's fault," he said, referring moreso to himself. He had yet to know of the argument Marshall had had with Sophie and Gaius.

"If you're angry with yourself, stop yelling at everyone else!" he replied rather childishly, growling.

He, like Marshall, closed his eyes for a few moments as he tried to calm down, taking deep breaths as the penguin continued to talk. The frustration of Marshall losing his beloved comic creation was like water off a duck's back to Oz - he knew nothing of Sno-Cone, at least not consciously. But he imagined that would hurt like hell.

Oz was never good at placating a situation like this, at least notwhen he was equally as pissed off and frustrated at lifes great scheme of things.

"Seriously, in this place where you have more things to worry about, is being this angry really gonna change anything?" he said, less forcefully than before. "If I could go back in time and stop what happened, I would. But I can't. Hell, I was useless before I even came here. My career was over before I was 22."

Oz was now caught between two hard rocks - still being totally frustrated at this life, and feeling like a useless lump. What could he do? Marshall was really hurting, and not physically. But so was Oz...or was he? He'd lost a lot recently, but nothing that affected his life so much as losing hands or feet or even a real mouth.

"What do you want me to do? Don't make me come over there and give you a hug," he threatened light-heartedly. He was at a loss of what to do now.