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"I'll get it," he snapped, shooting a warning glare at the boy. He hadn't meant any offense, to be sure. It was a pride issue with Thom. It was shame enough to have to rely on the crutch as it was. He'd rather people encouraged him to accomplish things for himself, rather then making him feel more incompetant by aiding him. However, despite his outburst, he made no move towards the crutch.

Instead, he cleared his throat and replied as if it had never occurred. "This 'as t'be th' only bloody place in th' damned world that dabbles in this sort of...experimentation," he argued, waving a hand at nothing in particular to emphasize his point. "Anyone who can fix us is goin' t'be inside those labs. Only way t' win them over is t'be rid of Moreau. An' that 'as t'be nearly impossible."

Thom felt a tad guilty for snapping, but soon brushed it aside. Alec didn't seem terribly bothered by it. Indeed, the irish boy was busy thinking about something or other--no doubt his escape attempt--and had probably already forgotten Thom's outburst.

With Alec otherwise distracted, Thom set about devising a means of reaching the crutch that he had so brilliantly tossed away a short while ago. When no easy means was forthcoming, he settled on the achingly slow process of 'walking' without it. That is to say, while bracing himself against a tree with one hand and resting his weight on his tail, he would take a step, then allow his tail to catch up. Reach towards the next tree incase he should lose his balance, step, glide, repeat. Still sore from his change, his tail was reluctant to cooperate, and thus it was a terribly slow process. But it worked, and it didn't mean asking for help, and that was what mattered.

It had never crossed Thom's mind that Alec might laugh at his predicament, especially given the teen's reaction to seeing his leg in the first place. He just hated the feeling of being helpless. As long as he could accomplish things for himself, he would continue to do so. Perhaps the feeling might mellow a bit as he grew used to moving about with one good leg, but with his change just past, pride had a strict hold on his habits.

He was silent until he reached the crutch and, bending, snatched it up, positioning it under his left arm and turning returning his attention to Alec now that he could manuver a bit more easily. "Think what? That it'd be impossible? Of course. That there's someone in th' labs who might help us? ...It's possible. They can't all be 'appy with what Moreau's doin' t'people."

Thom raised a brow, but didn't bother to reply immediately. What would he have said? It Alec was as set on an escape attempt as he had seemed earlier, he should have taken the statement and run with it. But on the same note, why did Thom care? He didn't honestly believe there was any chance of escape. ...Or, rather, he did, but had no reason to escape, as there was nothing to go back to.

Still, the notion tugged at his mind... More the notion of revenge than freedom. If there really was the possibility of contacting someone within the labs... No, absolutely not. Thom shoved the thoughts from his mind, lazily setting his wight on the crutch. "So'm right. Does that change anythin'?"

Thom's expression darkened at the subtle attack, the sides of his neck giving an unpleasant twinge as if reacting to his anger. Choosing not to grace the teen with a reply, he turned and started back in the direction of his duplex with his odd walk, progress somewhat hindered by the jungle growth. The seed for revolution had been planted, but whether it would flourish now that his animosity for Alec had returned was left to be seen.