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Jamal had not spent a great deal of time in his duplex today, nor had he even slept there the previous night. The tiger man had grown increasingly fond of sleeping in the jungle at night; his constantly nagging instincts quieted when he was surrounded by the comforting plant life. He did still visit his duplex at least once a day to get clean clothes though and while Kikue was debating where to go, the man was also exiting his duplex. He was barechested, as he usually was now thanks to the itchy fur on his back, and wore ratty cut-off jeans (that were not female jeans, nope, no siree... >> ) as well as his faded black do-rag. His clawed, digigrade-stance didn't allow him to wear proper shoes and even if he could, he'd still go barefoot.

As he turned to walk away from his duplex, he saw the woman and quirked a brow. She had the WEIRDEST costume on...and she also looked lost or like she was waiting for someone. Hm.

Well, he was hungry and too lazy to go out and catch his own meal, so he didn't think much of the new woman as he strode towards the larger building she had looked at earlier.

The thought never crossed his mind that she might be the newest of the new...the ones that hadn't yet got the 'welcome to the island' speech.

Jamal had more or less ignored the woman until she started moving towards the cafeteria also and seemed to be trying to get his attention. A light murr under his breath and a roll of the eyes escaped before he could try to mask his irritation. God, how he hated the overly friendly type...

As he got closer to the building, he glanced over his shoulder at the approaching woman, whiskers flicking of their own accord, and attempted to at least not bite her head off. No reason to flip out on her...yet anyway.

"Mmyeah? Ya need somethin'?" As he spoke, his sharp canines flashed brightly from his maw and even when his lips closed, the tips peeked out just barely over his bottom lip.

Most people didn't address him unless they had a true reason to. It made sense for the woman to have a motive of some sort.

The life-like nose even had nostrils that flared some as Jamal sucked in a breath and held it as he digested her question, eyes automatically narrowing slightly. It was probably for her that Jamal had a deep-seeded affection for women as well as an affinity for ones that were on the shorter side, all from his human side. Whatever worked to keep his temper at check ought to be considered a blessing.

"No, I ain't herr fo' no physical therapy...there wasn't a damn thing wrong wit' me when they stuck me on dis ********' rock," he muttered as he turned fully to face her, his larged, well-toned arms crossing losely in front of his chest. His sharp feline gaze noted the cast on her hand and his nose smelt the odd tang that is associated with a cast; all to familiar thanks to his run in with Antony.

He did managed a smirk, which exposed one of the long, slender canine teeth, in an attempt to appear a little more friendly. He really was trying to be a decent guy. Really.

God it was hard.

Jamal facefaulted a little at her explaination as he realized that she was still under the facade that the staff were so good at weaving for the new people. Wow...so she was fresh off the helicopter, so it seemed. Probably still stinging some from her injection, possibly.

...oh great. This was going to be awkward as hell. Jamal had never had to deal with 'fresh meat' like this before. He was the LAST person that ought to administer the talk.

There was a long, pregnant pause before Jamal cleared his throat noisily, which sounded much like a feline's purr and rubbed his face with one heavily calloused hand.

"I'm herr fo' da same reason ev'ryone else is," he said finally, taking the hand that had been rubbing his face and indicating the grounds that all the duplex buildings stood on. "'N' it ain't fo' no therapy eitha'. You been lied to. Lied to jus' like ev'ryone else got lied to."

If one thought it was possible, they might have been able to detect a slight note of sympathy in his words. There was also very clearly some dragging to his voice also...like he -really- did not want to explain what was going on. However, he knew it was probably futile to even think that way. If the girl was at all sharp, she'd want to know what was really going on.

Or she could just deny it like he did. Denial could be a powerful thing.

"No one knew where I went eitha. The docs prefer it dat way so no one back home asks questions 'bout where we be..." he said without a hitch to his voice, the seriousness of his tone sounding even odd to his own ears. "It's all a lie. You ain't herr ta get no therapy. At least, not what ya think ya gonna get. I know ya ain't gonna believe me 'cause I didn't believe no one fo' da longest time. I didn't think it was gonna happen to me when I DID believe what happened ta da otha's..."

Jamal started to fumble at the back pocket of his shorts, all the while shaking his slightly as though he too was in disbelief over the whole situation. Shortly, the fruits of his struggling were produced when a very tattered, faded, and torn wallet fell into his palm and he flipped it open. The way he handled the wallet almost seemed like it was a struggle for him to do so...that it caused him physical pain to stare at pictures that flashed into view briefly as he thumbed through them. Most of the pictures were of women...a few of young children and what were probably relatives, and then finally he stopped on a picture of three young gentlemen, probably in their early twenties, standing on a basketball court. The middle guy had his arms draped over the shoulders of the other two and the outside guys were flashing some sort of sign with their hands. The tiger man tapped a claw on the man on the right. It was a picture of Jamal and his buddies.

"...this was me not too long b'fo I left ta come to da island. At da time, I didn't know what really went on herr. As ya see, I don't look like dat no mo'."

If Kikue took the time to try to match the piercings to the tiger man's piercings...the bullet scars on the pictured man's bare chest to the faint pink marks that were the same scars and the dark, vibrant tattoos of the picture to the heavily faded, almost invisible tattoos of the man before her, she would see the resemblance.

"They inject ya wit' a serum of some kind...it messes wit' your body 'n' turns ya inta whateva' animal they decide. Me, I got tiger fo' some reason...they tell ya at first da shot is ta keep ya from gettin' sick, but once ya start changing, there's no denyin' what's goin' on anymo' cause they gotta keep GIVIN' ya shots to keep ya changin' otha'wise word is dat ya get real sick. Ya can't do nuthin' ta stop 'em from doin' it eitha'. They kin knock ya out wit' a single sentence if they want 'n' shoot ya up right then."

Jamal was WELL versed in how the implanted chips worked, having been zapped down at least a half dozen times.

"There ain't no way I'da done this willin'....I'm a black man turnin' white fo' christsake. I was lookin' fo' a place ta go...I neva' imagined s**t like this was possible. Now look at me."

He splayed his hands open, palms toward her, showing off the thickened callous pawpads there on his fingers and palm. His claws were in their semi-retrated state as he couldn't pull them in.

"It's all real. God, I wish it wasn't...but it's real."

He pulled his exposed hands back into fists, one closing over the wallet, and once again crossed his arms, feeling awkward again. He hadn't looked in his wallet in a long time, but he had carried it around for a long time. For some sense of normalcy. It was amazing that he was being so serious and sympathetic right now, but he could understand her confusion. He had been there. Everyone had been there at one point.

"All da sorrys in da world ain't gonna make me human again or gonna make it so I can go home, but thanks," he said, somewhat more curtly as he was actively trying to not become any sort of emotional, be it anger or sadness. He saw the little red mark where she had been injected; it was too late. "Da truth is dat I dunno what they're gonna do 'bout yer hand. They might have some twisted way ta fix it. I don't know. I mean, hell...dependin' on what yer turnin' inta, you might not HAVE a hand when yer done..."

He grimaced a little at that; it came out a little more blunt than he had intended. Jamal wasn't good at the whole 'gently easing new people into what they were going to be dealing with' issue...he'd never had to explain in detail what went on here. He preferred it that way.

"I've learned ta not trust a word da staff say anymo'. Peeps gonna tell ya dat s**t ain't dat bad herr 'n' ya oughta jus' get ova it 'n' move on. I can't do dat 'n' I won't. It's yer choice what ya wanna believe, but there ain't no good comin' outta dat lab."