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Jamal o_o'ed from his spot by the alcohol. Oh god, please don't let this get ugly because then he would have to intervene and everyone knows where THAT got him last time. He didn't fancy being 'broke' AND having a ******** up ankle. Especially coming from two girls he had sex with. That would be awkward.

At the mention of coconuts, Jamal stooped to pick up two of them and held them out like peace offerings.

At the refusal, Antony inwardly seethed. This girl came to ask for help, and when it was offered, she turned it away. It was almost as if she came to spy on the two of them for other reasons. Gods she hated liars, and people who were rude when she was nice.

Like Moreau brushing off her handshake when she first got to the island.

Something wasn't right with her little visit, and the voice in her head nagged her about it. And then this girl told her to 'take care of Jamal'?! Oh hell no. "We're not in some stupid love-dovey relationship thanks!"

She wasn't his mother, but she was his friend. Friends and mutual nookie-givers.

First the ******** tree, and now the little b***h.

Somehow Antony kept all she wanted to scream at the blue haired girl inside, and stood for simply giving her a death glare as she disappeared into the distance. ******** her.

Antony seethed, a colorful explosion of curses spewing from her lips at an outstanding rate.

That b***h!

She was trying to be NICE considering the situation, and what did that get her? A proverbial smack in the face, that's what. This was why she was only nice to her trusted friends and not random people, because friends appreciate these types of actions, other people don't.

No more. Her and Jamal were in this together, and Anjali as well. Lily had disappeared, and aside from that no one else had helped create this camp.

Something inside her that wasn't anger filled her body, determination. Regardless of the life and death situation that they may be facing, Antony was competitive, and she was vengeful. Her eyes glanced down at her wounds and she sneered. Work had to be done and she couldn't risk an infection.

"Jamal," she began, voice rigid and angry, "Grab the shovel and go into the forest and dig a hole, deep enough so an animal can't just climb out, and wide enough to fit a decent sized animal in it. I'll stay and finish up the stakes."

This trap was going to get done, and they were going to get meat. That was first priority.

Voices...

Anjali slowly became aware that someone was shouting, very distantly. But she didn't quite feel like moving yet... the sun was so warm, so nice...

But, she began to realize, her muscles were twinging at her. And she was thirsty... and hungry. Why was it so hard to wake up? She moved to twitch the covers over her - and hit only empty air. And when she groped her way down her leg looking for the errant linens, she felt... almost like grass? And sticky stuff...?

Oh, god. The recollection of the transformation shot through her brain like a lightning bolt, and she sat up so quickly that it made her dizzy. She had to close her eyes again until her equilibrium came back, then slowly, slowly opened them again, holding her hands in front of her face.

Her waxy, green, overly-long-fingered, nailless, tentacle-tipped hands.

... so it had happened. Blech, her mouth felt like something had died in it, and she made a face. Well, morning, she could get water and coconut milk and something to get the taste out. Then food. Anjali peered owlishly up at the sun.

... so late? It looked to be mid-afternoon, and she'd gone to sleep at twilight. Ugh. "Antony? Jamal?" she called out, sitting up a bit better in the sand, cursing as grains of it got stuck the mucilage on her fingertips.

"Ugh..." Anjali shook her head to clear it. It felt weird... she tapped at her hair gingerly with one finger, and felt it twitch away by some new reflex, as though it were alive. "Feels like a bunch of little arms grew out of my head," she muttered, then concentrated.

After doing a series of bizzare facial contortions, she finally hit on the right neural command to move something that had never been movable before - and one of the hair-chunks that was fusing together at the bottom flipped slightly towards Antony. "... God, that's creepy," Anjali said with a scowl. "What time is it? Feels like I've slept for forever... probably some changes went on that we can't see, deep-down changes at the cellular level."

She paused, then asked, with some concern - "Do we have, ah, anything like a mirror?" She bit her lip and looked down at her hands.

Antony blinked at both her comment and the waving of the hair. That was just plain weird, "Uh... No mirror." It was all she could think to say at the moment.

Shaking her thoughts back to the situation overall, she looked over at the Beach Bar again a slow smile coming over her lips. "At least we have a shelter if it rains..."

She motioned towards the hut/bar and grinned, "We'll be able to keep dry firewood too. I'm scared it's going to rain, I mean... It IS a tropical island... Is there a monsoon season or something?"

Jamal sighed and paused his digging, wiping his brow whilst looking at what he'd accomplished so far. It was just over waist deep on him...but definately not deep enough yet. He didn't have any idea on what they could possibly catch in this pit; he'd never seen signs of anything large, furry, and edible in the jungle before. What exactly could live out here anyway? The only experience he had with wildlife was what he saw at zoos and what occasionally ran into the streets in the city. Raccoon? Opposum? A deer?

Somehow he doubted that stuff lived out here.

Maybe a killer horse?

He shrugged to himself, deciding that he'd just wait and see what they ended up with and resumed his digging, the dirt growing cooler the further down he went. The soil was turning sort of squishy too from the water table built up from the rains. Ick...

"Fish... hrm." Anjali made a face. "Not really, unfortunately... plants are far more my forte. Though I know the basics of using a rod, and... I saw people spear-fishing on a documentary once? Hardly useful, but I believe a sharpened stick and quick reflexes are needed. As for bait..."

A fly landed on one of her finger-tentacles, and once again she resisted the urge to eat it. "I seem to be good at finding that, now," she said, ruefully as the bug drowned in the mucilage.