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Sid was experiencing a powerful feeling of deja vu, but the village proper was as good a place as any to sit and whittle. Once he was out of his duplex he tried to delay the trip back up the stairs for as long as possible, he made things made enough with all the walking he insisted on doing.

He was on a different bench this time, one that cut down on the possibility of someone walking up from behind him. That would have been a great thing if he could only pay attention to his surroundings for more than a few minutes. He was too focused on the small block of wood he was working with, he had to be given that he still wasn't quite sober. Come to think of it, he hadn't been completely free of painkillers or alcohol- or a mixture of the two- in days. The last time had been the day Fiona died, and some horribly irrational part of him believed that had been his punishment for it.

He hadn't exactly decided what he wanted to make before he took the knife to the wood, but after a few minutes he had the beginnings of a very crude reproduction of Rodin's Thinker. After all he'd seen and heard on the island carving cute little animals had lost its appeal. He was gradually coming to see that he was terrible at anatomy, especially where figures in wood were concerned. The Thinker, thanks to Sid's poor planning and vague memory of the actual statue, was turning out to have a nasty case of elephantitus.

"Oh, yeah, I live for danger," Sid scoffed. "And nothin's more thrilling than whittling." He stopped carving long enough to survey what had thus far. He squinted at it. "s**t, I don't even know what this counts as anymore, but piss poor is the new avante guarde. Or something." He tossed the incomplete carving over his shoulder, waiting for the sound of it landing in the bushes somewhere before he closed the knife.

He half turned to face Seth, bringing his cane up so it rested in his lap. "Sooo... What's up? Enjoying yourself so far?" He grinned, already knowing the answer.

"There's other pieces of wood to mutilate. A practically endless supply. Same with paper." Conservation, as Sid saw it, was something for other people to bother with.

He picked up the closed whittling knife and began to idly turn it over in his hands, this while Seth was still talking. He shook his head vaguely at the question about a revolt, and smiled at the mention of air conditioning. All the while he was opening and closing the knife.

"Duplexes've got air," he said. "Haven't they set you up yet? Anyway, I've heard different about the fighting back thing. People have tried, and failed, and have been punished for it. Stands to reason they'd have all their bases covered, dontcha think? And before you ask about what happened, I don't really know. There's this shark kid living out by the river, said that was for pissing off one of the doctors, so I can only assume he's one of those failed revolutionaries."

He ran his fingers over the symbol embossed on the knife. Boy Scout whittling knives weren't popular, but folks tended to assume terrible things about a grown man carrying one around, nevermind if he'd actually just bought it at a pawn shop.

"I was only joking before, when I said that'd give you something to do. I don't think it'd be a good idea. Just deal with it, man, that's all any of us can do. Sides that, I'm sure as hell in no condition to be running around trying to fight the power. I never even so much as got involved with protests... Okay, maybe a few times, but that was just because I was trying to get into this hippy chick's pants."

He sighed at the memory. "But in the end, it wasn't worth it... Goddamn, what a mess."

Sid laughed. "Dude, have you seen some of the locals here? I don't think getting out would be of much use for most of them, unless you were planning on starting up a traveling freakshow. And yes, the cane sucks."

He slipped the knife into his pocket. "If you figure something out, more power to you, but forgive me if I can't exactly help with overthrowing the establishment." He looked thoughtfully at his cane, even smacked it across one hand a few times. "Sad thing is, it's kinda hard to beat people with this thing while hopping on one foot. Doesn't look quite as badass and fieresome either."

Sid shook his head, looking annoyed at the leg comment. "Plot and plan all you want, man. I'm not gettin' involved. I'm resigned, get it? Cause even if I go back there's nothing waiting for me but a ******** of debt, so I'd rather not make things any harder on myself than it already will be."

He sat back, giving himself a few seconds to calm down. He moved his sunglasses up to rest on his head and rubbed his eyes. "You look around enough, you'll see all kinds here. There's a few you probably oughtta watch out for, though."

Sid's eyes lost focus while Seth talked of suing the labs, whether because he was tuning it out or his mind simply chose that moment to wander. It was a little of both, as he was trying too hard to just accept what was to come in hopes it would make it easier when it hit. And even if it worked, even if they made it back...

"What then," he muttered to himself, barely loud enough to be heard.

The mention of the wolf snapped him out of it. He cleared his thoat.

"Yeah, there was this wolf girl who went a li'l psycho... But they probably took care of her by now," he said it with all the certainty of someone who'd worked very hard to convince themselves of the same thing. "I don't know of any other dangerous types, just folks you might wanna avoid for your own sake."

"No..." he said softly, looking at the ground. "The evidence would be destroyed if it came to that. And we're the evidence. I told you man, you can try. I can't stop you, but all the armed guards they have might. So shut up about escaping. It's hard enough trying to cope without stabbing yourself in the foot."

His tone grew more and more agitated as he spoke, and when it was over, again, he sat there trying to reign himself in. He sighed and turned his head to face Seth, suddenly looking tired. "And I told you, I don't know. I've heard of them, that's all. No names, no details, at least none that I can remember. It's all a jumble. There's just this one woman..." he clicked his tongue and looked up. "What was her name?"

Sid made an odd noise, though it was only because the tongue clicking reminded him of the rolled r sound that went with 'that woman's name. The noise, then, was him rolling his tongue. "Let's just call her Rroxanne," he said, rolling the r with it. "Like that Police song. Rrred- I mean red lights and all that. That's not her name, but nevermind. She looks pretty normal, save for the fuzzy ears and hairy chest-" he gestured at his own ears and chest to illustrate.

"Though the good part is it stops just before her tits." A stupid grin sneaked across his face before he caught himself and traded it for a more serious expression. "That could change soon, I dunno. The thing is, if you see some gorgeous, kinda fuzzy woman around, be very ******** careful."

He pointed at Seth. "She is- I mean she was- a madam, and you know what that means, don't you?"