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(( RPing Lance at 25% ))

The massive television illuminated his dull countenance, the images of Alan Rickman and Bruce Willis reflecting off the tinted lenses of a pair of sunglasses donning his head of bleached, blonde hair.

Lance had been lounging on one of the couches of the Entertainment Room for almost an hour (the lights dimmed to enhance his movie-viewing experience) and he hoped to continue Die Hard in peace. One hand wrapped securely around a combination drink of Jack Daniels and Coke, the other resting on his bare stomach, now coated in a considerable amount of dark hair, he looked limp as a ragdoll while he struggled to distract himself from the pain in his temples, a result of emerging bone- horns- from his head.

His lips moved in silence as he mouthed the familiar quotes. "Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mister Cowboy?"

"Yipee-ki-yay, ********> Came John McClane's reply from the television.

The man dragged his brown eyes away from the screen morosely, partially fearing who- or what the feminine voice belonged to. He flinched upon settling his eyes on the furry creature behind him, a lemur not being an animal he was particularly familiar with, and swallowed dryly before redirecting his attention to the movie.

Was she mocking him? Perhaps it were better that he wore a shirt, no matter how itchy the damn thing was now. Perhaps he should abandon the belt buckle as well? Some people- animals- things didn't seem to appreciate the style. He sat up a litte straighter subconciously.

"Hullo." He managed. If she were expecting a "howdy" back, then she'd just have to be dissapointed.

Lance gnashed his teeth against the throbbing pain migrating to the back of his skull, lifting his drink to his thin lips and watching the female- whatever it was- over the rim of the cup.

"Yeah, I'm pretty new." He had a deep, chesty voice and a velvet drawl.

His eyes ventured back to the television and half-lidded dully when Alexa's intentions became blantantly apparent, his free hand rising to scratch the tuft of hair at the end of his chin to subtley indicate he wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans. He just wanted to watch people shooting each other.

Lance hadn't intended to dispirit the young... female, but his recent step towards the American Bison had left him sore, tired, itchy and with a lingering feeling of helplessness, and in turn, anger boiling beneath his easy-going surface. His thoughts muddled by the ache, he struggled to sound more inviting the second time around. How else was he going to make friends on this island? Make it all a little less painful?

"Well, I'm in the middle o' this movie, but I've seen it half o' dozen times already." His Adam's apple bobbed uneasily. "I could move out if you want to watch somethin', Miss...?"

To demonstrate, he picked his drink off of the arm rest and pushed himself up effortlessly.

The man collapased back onto the couch gratefully, falling limp as a ragdoll with a small "pop" of his knee. He was of impressive build, but he was older, having already left his twenties behind.

He smiled warmly in response and took the hand in his own enthusiastically, attempting to make up for his bad manners by refusing to flinch at the feel of fur. His face was still quite boyish despite his recent change, which brought forth hair of a dark color creeping along his jawline to meet at a lengthy, comical beard.

"Name's Lance." He dragged one leg up to rest a bare foot on the edge of the cushion comfortably. "It's nice to meet ya, Alexa."

Lance had never considered himself shy, nor a very unskilled conversationalist, but here, in this room with this once-human, bipedal lemur, he found himself at a loss for words.

Obviously, she had been here for quite awhile, but Lance had not. His fears were by now quite numerous, and no matter how irrational, he simply couldn't supress the occasional whimper in his throat. Even now, he was wary of making a wrong move or saying something absurd. His life in Louisiana could never have prepared him for situations like this. Were lemurs poisonous? No, they were just like monkeys, right? Like raccoons and monkeys together, right?

He cleared his throat and wet his lips. "So, Alexa..." He ventured. "About how long have you been here? I haven't seen many people, and I dun really go out as often as I'd like t'. It ain't really often I get to talk with someone quietly."

It pained him to carry on the conversation, for as much as he'd love to ignore the Island and it's goings-on, it was all around him and completely unavoidable. He was going to be just like everyone else, with the next step- when it would happen and what it would bring- an irritating mystery. He could no longer live by "Ignorance is bliss".

"Well, I guess ah kin understand that." He rumbled, somewhat relieved by the fact that the lemur-woman looked unperturbed for the most part. And she had been there a year!

The man showed no outward signs of ill temper. The only thing that really disturbed his features was a knit brow and a tight-lipped frown. Suddenly, he became aware of his naked upper torso and immediately apologized for it in the manner a Southern gentleman ought to.

Lance's frown was quickly replaced with a sheepish grin at her laughter. He shifted in his spot and drew his other leg up, crossing his arms over his broad chest while he took the opportunity to recline back. The general atmosphere certainly had altered since the moment Alexa had strolled in, and he was glad for it. She wasn't hostile or overwhelmingly depressed or anything like that... Hell, maybe this woman would be his ticket to understanding the island a little better.

"Naw, it's fine. I told ya I'd seen it half a dozen times." A nonchalant shrug followed by a comforting chuckle. "I could almost tell you the entire story word fer word if you had an hour or two."

Lance shook his drink, a habitual action that he used to tell how much fluid remained in his cup, and by the sound of it there wasn't much anything but ice.

"I'm probably gonna go down to the beach, if you were interested." But the subtext of his tone implied that he simply wanted protection. "Ah might stop by my apartment-type thing to get a shirt first, though."