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"I think so." Sid glanced at the water for confirmation before adding, "Okay, I have no idea. If we're wrong then... we can always double back."

He hated the idea. He didn't even really want to go as far as the lake, but it'd be a terrible thing to leave the octopus alone in the jungle in a rusty wheelchair. It'd be even worse to walk back to the village on his own.

He was likely going to spend the rest of the night by the lakeside, assuming they made it that far. Great. A real good old fashioned camp out. He hated camp outs. Hell, he hated Halloween, but there he was, all dressed up with the party god knew how far away from them.

Sid mulled it over. How hard could it be? A little dialogue, a little stage direction, and maybe some sort of plot. If nothing else he could fall back on ripping off half-remembered Saturday Night Live skits.

"Yeah, I could do that. What'll it be though? Comedy? Drama? Something with a little of both?" He barely avoided tripping over a fallen branch as he thought about all the possibilities. He tried to play it off and kept talking. "Where'd we put them on, anyway?"

Sid tried to keep his pace as slow as was prudent without seeming like too much of a feeble old man. He also kept in mind to watch where he was going for once. Even then, he was panting a little. "Like I said, man, I don't really know much about the people in charge. I just met the Victorian refugee guy when I got here, that was about it."

"Ginger kid?" Sid said blankly. The image that immediately sprang to mind was Sherman and Mr. Peabody, which naturally made him laugh. "Heh... But, uh... You sure it's a good idea to poke at him like that? If he's crazy, wouldn't he do something? Something cruel and despotic like?" He eyed Billy and the collar and wondered if maybe that explained it.

Despite appearances, Sid had never been one to try and stick it to the man. The only reason he ever associated with hippies was, well, free love and drugs. Sure, he might have carried a sign, chanted a few things, but it was all for the sake of getting between some girl's unshaven legs, not peace. The length of his hair was because he figured he had to make the most of what he had. The drugs... He just liked drugs.

"The woman?" Sid drifted closer, because he kept missing half of the words Billy was half saying. "Don't tell me there's only one woman on the whole staff. They'd all go mad." Then it clicked. "Pieces of you?"

Sid's face paled, hard as it was to see in the moonlight. "Sweet crispy Jesus," he murmured. "That is so ******** up... Why would anybody do that?"

Sid had to think back, almost to the limits of what his damaged memory would allow, to that awkward conversation he'd had on the beach with that naked cheetah. He shuddered at the memory of those eyes.

"That chick was damaged goods long before, I think," he said, mostly just to remind himself. He laughed bitterly as he remembered a little something else of their encounter. "She said she hoped I ended up something fuzzy..."

It would be rude to ask about the others. Sid tried to keep himself from asking about the others.

He couldn't. "What're the others? And what prompted those? And how come you kept letting her do that s**t?"

He could have just stopped at that first question, but damn it he was old and in pain and entitled.