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Richard peers at the face under the mask. He couldn't place the animal though.

"Nope, the tentacles are squid... kinda." Richard shrugged, he didn't feel like explaining about Sabin and his serum.

He just extended his hand instead. "Richard." He stated.

Bia didn't say goodbye. She was struggling with trying to pour the alcohol through her beak-like opening, and realizing that even with the few days of practice she'd had, she was far from an expert. The hard, shell-like protrusion was a menace- it caused her breathing to be accompanied by a whistle which was more of a rasp on the intake, and a whine on the way out... it was much harder to form words, and her voice had become choppier... and eating was a new experience altogether.

Bia watched Thom go, her silence spurred on by a mixture of fear/memory of their first encounter, and by guilt. She was left, then, with a little less than half- empty cup and the company of a woman she barely knew. In seconds, she'd spilled some of the red liquid on the floor.

"The...beak." She said, as if she needed to explain. Her voice was apologetic, and she forgot to attempt to control the whining breath as it whistled through what was left of her nostrils.

Chubbs took the offered hand in his own and shook it, again trying not to rip the guys arm off, that's all he needed. He found it odd a guy his age was here, but he thought nothing more of it.

" Chubbs, yeah, that's my name"

Chubbs was still getting use to this voice, he felt like he should clear his throat, but there was nothing to clear.

" Tenticles hmm?, have to keep you away from the japenese school girls"

Chubbs laughed a little, but he started to be quiet when he realised the man probably didn't get it.

"Alright, Thom. Feel better." She said it mostly to his escaping back, before turning back to watch the bird-woman spill her drink on the ground and explain her clumsiness in that choppy bird-voice. It reminded her, again, of the half-chewed syllables of Greer, and a pang of longing nostalgia crept into her again. It was hard to think of the island in the terms of 'now'- not when everything had seemed so much simpler back then- or at least... then there had still been hope. It was hard living in a world where the hope had been replaced, almost sapped away by despair, disbelief, and paranoia. The 'now' was so much more difficult to live in. Emelyn, for all her hope for the future- would have lived in the past forever, were she given the chance. She would trip backwards through time to those moments which had been special: the first time she'd taught Reuben how to jump the stones on the way out to the fishcatch... then rushing back to those moments with Ambrose that one, fateful night... stopping by only briefly to swim the lagoon with Sean before finding herself with Mizzie, playing pick-up sticks and sitting in the windowseat of their Rhode Island home. ...Emelyn would then travel back and spend long hours with Grandpa John there in the living room beneath Grandma Wilhemina's tongue-poking-out portrait, and then... she would go all the way back to the beginning and start again at that moment, going back and back until all her good memories had been lived to a ripe perfection.

For the longest time, Emelyn said nothing, lost in herself.

What happened what happened what happened to you? "Wha'... din' happen...?" His voice was slurred, as though he had downed half a bottle of tequila. "Everyt'in's... gone wrong wrong... feckin'... wrong..." He shook his head uselessly, "An'... s'all yer.... s'all... yer fault... temptin'... me wit'... vodka..." his voice grew almost too low to hear over the loud chatter of voices around them, his leg tentacles sliding around the arm rests and foot rests of his rusty wheelchair tightly. "Water..." he weazed, finally dropping the cigarette butt to the ground.

Emerwyn tucked her legs to the side, and attempted to straighten out her skirt, still laughing a little.
"For the phirst time, I think I can agree with you!" She relaxed her shoulders. Sitting out here was much more natural. But a strange little feeling in her gut began to rise, perhaps the brain's last resort to warn Emerwyn as to just what was going on with the predator she sat so dangerously close to.
She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly.

At the mention of water, Sid reached over almost as an afterthought and grabbed a bottle from the drinks table. He scowled at it and said, "Why do they even have this?" He couldn't dream of anyone wanting to abstain at a party, or that by most definitions he counted as an abuser who should stay the hell away from the stuff.

He handed the bottle over to Billy and went back to mixing booze and pain killers. He hadn't noticed the cigarette, but he could only focus on so much at once, given his lovely state of mind.