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One of the very few benefits to Sabin's only partially-voluntary seclusion from most of the other laboratory technicians other than the ones directly below him, and any of the islanders after his bitter parting with Awen via the moniters is that Sabin had managed to get a great deal of work done over the past two weeks, despite having had an overdosed octopus thrust upon him to deal with on top of his other mounting responsibilities.

Sabin had thrown himself into the work that had to be done, bitter and angry after a failed talk with Aubrey, after a failed talk with Awen. Bitter about the work he was dealing with and no one to lend even a sympathetic ear... save Beastie.... but he didn't exactly count. He couldn't exactly speak back. Maybe if he were able to concoct a serum....

He shook his head. he was still on thin ice from what he could tell. He needed to get not only caught up but ahead with his work, back to the comfort he had been at before before even being able to think about his own projects in more than idle scribblings in the corners of his lab reports. And this time, he would at least ask permission first. Perhaps he could catch Moreau at a good mood. It seemed, unlike the old adage, that on THIS island at least it was NOT better to ask forgiveness than permission.

His team, of course, was not so pleased with Sabin's dedication to the work. He had kept them busy, working long hours, and probably frustrated a good number of them in actually explaining to him in laymen's terms a lot of the work they were doing. Sabin had probably learned more about genetics in this past month than he had his entire university career.

Which meant that he was able to give them more direction, and more specific tasks. And work them harder - not being quite as puzzled by their jargoned excuses - at least not quite as much. But they were making a lot of headway, and Sabin was getting caught up. And his new team was settling into Sabin's... peculularities.
He was almost there.
Maybe a few more days... a week or two of this at most.

There was a beeping on the communicator hitched to his belt. He picked it up, his eyes scanning the text message as he grunted in annoyance and headed towards the medical room.

***

About fifteen or twenty minutes after Billy woke, Sabin strode purposely through the door and up to his tank/bed, hands on his hips and looking him over with a critical eye.

The doctors said that he was stabilized. Sabin was no medical doctor, but he didn't look quite as washed out as he had the last time he had seen him. And the open eyes were definately an improvement.

"So you are awake now." Sabin stated the obvious. "Hopefully you will not be quite as foolhearty in the future with your.... medications" He twisted out the last word, very obvious from his tone of voice that Sabin was well aware that the cocktail in Billy's system was not exactly ... theraputic in nature.

Sabin actually let out an amused laugh at the question. "Your smokes? While you probably have not quite gotten your bearings yet... let me just say that smoking in your current condition would probably not be for the best. If you have not yet noticed, you are in a hospital room. IN the labs. And you are lucky that you were picked up when you were or else you may not have been waking up at all."

He picked up the clipboard fastened to the footboard of the tank and flipped through the pages, only giving the writing a cursory glance to extricate decipherable information.

"I am Dr. Duvert. And... no, I suppose we have not been formally acquainted. But I have seen your sorry unconscious a** in this room more than once, so pardon my presumed familiarity."

"Hmm... indeed." Sabin droned with a small tug at the corner of his mouth as he walked around the tank to get a closer look at his face. He had had plenty of time to observe the violet tentacles and clammy rubbery skin on the man while he lay there unconscious the previous week, but there was still a spark of curiousity in the doctor's eyes in the presence of one of the island's more bizarre subjects.

"You seem to have a knack for that, Mr. Woodrow. Materializing drugs that you should not normally have access to..."

A smile curled the white-haired man's lip. "Some of them apparently more self-destructive than others, non?" He commented back. "Funny, though, given the general restriction on the harder substances here.." He mused aloud, curious eyes flicking over to him.

A shrug a moment later. "A week. Give or take a day. Although I reccomend that you double that time here before returning back to your duplex.... or the river if you prefer."

Sabin rolled his eyes. "Now now, no need to be melodramatic." He chided in the French-tinged voice as he slid the clipboard back into the holder.

"You're on your road to recovery, as they say. Another week and you'll be feeling... hrmm... I don't suppose 'well' would be the most appropriate term... but at least better." Sabin was almost disappointed not to be graced with the octopus man's own version of the 'story' of his drugs and how he got them back. He had his theories.... but the purple man didn't know him, granted, AND he was a lab tech on top of it all.

"And I will not let you die on my watch. You are apparently my responsibility now since Moreau threw his possessive..." He brought his fist up to his mouth and let out a loud cough along with the word "hissyfit" not so subtly into it.

"You certainly know how to pick your enemies."

Sabin only quirked an eyebrow at the manic smile that spread across his patient's face.

"Well, I would say that it would be more of one from my position as an observer than yours - but if you can keep a sense of humor while vexing the man upstairs, then more power to you."

The derogatory self-reference didn't seem to phase the dark-clad doctor, only bring another wry twist of his mouth as he followed the tentacle movements with his eyes.

"I do believe that you are correct..." He commented, having witnessed Moreau's jealous streak before. A combination of something threatening that which he wanted to be undoubtedly his... as well as challenging his authority... his control. Even after affixing the ring to Aubrey's finger, he was still insecure enough to reassign Billy to HIS authority, forbidding him contact from Aubrey.

"The forbidden fruit is the sweetest of all, ne c'est pa?"