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"...Awww-what?" He gave Chana a very suspicious look, a glimmer of dangerous light flickering in his eyes. This woman was using pretty scientific language and claimed to be a counselor...how could she not be one of Moreau's people? "Be you staff herr then? You knows what happenin'?"

Jamal didn't even try to keep the accusation from his voice as he practically growled the questions at her. If she knew what was going on here, he bet he could get some answers from her. He didn't care that she was a woman; if she was part of the Doctor's staff, he'd do whatever necessary if it meant that he could possibly buy himself freedom...even if it meant this woman was going down in the process.

Out of the first batch of words, all he got was 'retarded', which basically made him think of stupid people. Okay, fair enough. But who in the hell would want to deal with stupid people all day. He rolled his eyes at that as she continued to ramble.

As she continued, his evil gleam slowly disappeared, replaced now with a oddly void expression. So...she wasn't really staff. Dammit to hell.

"This callin' dis a camp now?" he asked with a disbelieving laugh. Wow, the Doc was turning out lies left and right. "You musta met Doc Moreau then, if you met some nutcase. I ain't met him yet...o' dis camp directa' you talkin' 'bout, unless dat be Aubrey." Prolly fo' da betta' he thought darkly as he stared at Chana, trying to decide if he should even bother trying to lay it all on the line. By her previous outbursts, he figured she'd be stubborn like he was. It probably was not worth the breath.

"Did da Doc give ya a shot o'sumthin'?"

Might as well ask. Surely she had to have gotten one...the Doctor didn't seem to let anyone pass through his grasp lately.

"Whateva'" Jamal said dismissively with an accompanying headshake. This girl obviously wasn't going to be an easy one to convince of anything. "I jus' call it hell. Ya'll see soon 'nough...takes some time ta get used to dis place."

It was then he was reminded he hadn't gotten a name from her. Probably should get it so maybe he could have Awen go introduce herself and perhaps let her do the dirty work of explaining the purpose of this island; the blue haired girl seemed to be the best at it as far as he knew.

"Da name's Jamal, in case ya wond'rin'. Ran inta anyone else yet?"

"Ya will in time. I promise ya that." There was no humor in Jamal's voice as he spoke. He, of course, had no idea of her religious affiliation and if he did, he didn't care. This place was as close to hell as he felt he'd ever get.

At the mention of Joliette, he placed the name with the girl with the british accent and bubblewrap. He nodded in recognition of the name and mused privately to himself. So...she hadn't met any of the transformed islanders yet... "Ya'll prolly run inta the main crowd event'ally. Gettin' ta be so many of us herr that it's startin' to get hard to not run inta someone in a lil' time."

Jamal let his gaze drift back towards the water, mulling over the idea. Had she really interrupted anything other than his brief flight of fancy?

"Ya ain't interruptin' nuthin'," he said finally, a slight air of defeat to his voice now. "But dat be a'ight if ya need ta go...Chana." He attempted to say her name as she had said it, but he couldn't make the sound properly. Ah well.

The black man simply raised a brow and shook his head slightly before addressing the night horizon again.
"Anytime now," he mumbled, kicking a pebble into the gently lulling tide. He was on pins and needles...waiting for his nitemare to begin.

She broke through the line of trees that signified the end of the jungle, and the beginning of that sandbar, not even realizing she was so close to the shore until the rustle of leaves beneath her boots turned into the telltale crunch of sand. Only then did she look up, and see the ocean, lolling gently beneath the bright sun. ...It did seem brighter these days, stinging Emelyn's eyes, sometimes. She'd never been too fond of the sun at all, but now, with her change into the nocturnal, it was easy to shy away from the light.

She'd been walking- again, for hours- she'd never gone back to her duplex the night before, after her conversation with Joliette. There was too much to think about, too much to plan. It gave her something else to think about than her own state, and her own fears of never feeling alive again- and so... she walked.

But the beach... it was much too bright, and too open- what if Ambrose and.... Angelina... happened upon the sandbar? Em turned to retreat back into the cool darkness of the jungle- but something stopped her. The sight of a girl, hunched over with something... crying. Her instinct to flee was squashed, and instead, she came upon the figure, who was obviously an islander- and had been changed. She stopped several feet from the girl, and got down on her knees in the sand.

"Are you alright?"

The girl was obviously distraught... she wasn't making any sense at all. Either that, or this was the girl that others had told her about- that she'd come to the island, almost like an animal herself. Emelyn didn't know how much the girl understood, but obviously, she was troubled.

"Dreams? No, they're not real. You're right. ...Did you have a bad dream?"