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"Dr. Durvet, I am a physiologist. Although I never had the time to aquire a doctorate I can certianly recognize when invertabrate limb." Richard snatched a tentacle and bent it, showing how it refused to fold in half. "Has a spine of cartilage in it. Quite remarkable."

"If you were in my position wouldn't you be curious?"

Internally Richard growled. Sabin apparently loved to play games and no straight answers would be forth coming. What he'd give to switch places with the man. See how he dealt if having to sleep on your stomach every night because any other crushes a limb. Or said limbs kept on slamming into walls and mirrors.

Still Richard kept his cool. Sabin was nothing compared to the insanity that was Moreau right? Of course he had still been human at the time too.

"Perhaps you'd like to recommend a relavant mythology then?"

As Sabin faded out Richard promised himself that one day that man would pay. He couldn't be much younger than Richard himself. Wonder what Moreau's retirement plan was like on the island...

It was time for bed.

Richard climbed through a haze of mismatched memories and a throbbing pain to coniousness. Opening his eyes, the world was a blur around him. He tried to rub his eyes and gasped at the pain that shot through the right side of body. He lay there for the a long moment for the pain to subside to a raw throbbing. Blinking, he looked around.

He was in his duplex. The stacks of notebooks on his desk had been cleared and put to the side to make room for a tray with various breakfast food stuffs on it, heavy on the sausages and bacon. A white peice of paper was folded lengthwise and placed in front of the tray.

Then Richard looked down at himself, saw the sling and hissed with surprise and pain. It wasn't a pleasent sight, angry, jagged wounds were held together by black stitches ran aross the surface of his right pectoral, one neatly bisecting his n****e. It hurt just to look at and the pain flared once it hard Richard's attention. Beyond his chest lay his arm, incased a in blue sling. Wincing, he shifted so he could peer over his shoulder. Three claw wounds followed the top of his shoulder to mid way down his arm.

Zachery Bloodstone was the name that came to him as he surveied the damage. The chest wounds hurt the most but it was the shoulder that concered him. If his rotator cuff was damage it would be month before he had full use of the shouder again. Slowly the events of last night came bubbling up within his mind. It came in reverse order. Zach, Ginvera, the graveyard, the horrible halloween trail, and the events of the party.

He had been reckless... Again. Ginvera's sentaments had sent him into that dangerous/almost sucidal zone. He had let the drunken Lizard get too close, confident that the creature, no... man, was too uncordinated to land a blow. How pathetic could the man be to view being turned into a monster as a improvement? Even if he did, why would he side with a staff member as arrogant as Ginvera? She was clearly more unstable than Moreau himself, giving the impression that she truly enjoyed inflicting pain. Moreau was about doing what had not been done. He'd cuddle bunnies if that was required, casual sadism wasn't his style, everything he did burned with a purpose. Ginvera viewed the whole thing as a funny game. She had enjoyed the suffer of those at the graveyard, gobbling it up like sweet candy.

So where did she fit? Richard had never heard of her before. Sabin, Aubrey and Moreau were the names on the villager's lips. Was she under them?

Did it matter?

Richard sighed and moved his hand over his face.

"Its open!," Called a gruff voice from inside. Tommy eh? Richard smiled, gratful for the company.

When the door is opened Tommy find Richard laying on his bed, propped up by a pile of pillows position in the middle of his back between the mounds of muscle that secure his tentacles to his back. Said tentacles were lying limply at Richards sides for once, although give an occianional wriggle.

Richard is bare chested and is wearing a pair of sweat pants. His right chest is a mass of stitched up wounds as is his shoulder. His right arm is in a sling. On the end table next to him is a bottle of advil and a pitcher of water.

He distantly remembered seeing Tommy last night although the context was blurry. He grinned when he saw the deformed face.

"Hey Tommy, just popping by?" Richard was attempting to keep all the pain from his face but couldn't hide how tired he was.

"Bandaging?" Richard honestly didn't remember anything after Zach had attacked him. He looked confused.

Between his injuries and the events he had been dwelling on Richard was in a melancolly mood. The injuries and the revelation of the graveyard's existance had derailed his plans. Leaving him aimless. Still... the injuries weren't life threatening would heal provided he kept up with the physical therapy exercises the note had provided. There we some mental wounds from last night but there was far more anger than hurt. Knowing none of the residents of the graveyard personally he could only greive for them intellectually. There was no personal connection to sever.

"Ah, I'm doing alright. Better than some maybe, worse than others. Nothing but a flesh wound." he grinned weakly. "How are you doing?"

So the boy had saved his life. He almost told him not to bother next time but stopped himself. He could help here right? He should hold on a bit longer.

After a bit of a pause he spoke, "Thanks." It was heartfelt.

He listened to Tommy's hurt and confusion. Smiling sadly, "I've seen hell Tommy, we ain't there yet. Its bad, I won't lie about that. Count your blessings, however small they are."

Richard remebered the Congo, he had spent six months reporting from a red cross aid station. The things he had seen in those six months had almost broken him then. The utter hopelessness of the situation, the death of so many people by starvation and simple disease had given Richard a very long yardstick to measure hardship with.

"We're just the same as the staff really. Don't let Ginvera get to you. They just think their different really. You notice the head stones last night? See any difference between the staff and the villagers?"

"To Moreau its all the same, the staff are just gullible enough to work for the man or afraid of him. They arn't leaving either." Richard chuckled. It was a small consolation but he had to take what he could find.