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The Beach Bar had never been one of Thom's favorite locations, persay. Indeed, in all his time on the island, he had been there maybe twice, and then only for short periods of time. He had never been particularly fond of alcohol. He hadn't any need for the place.

However, there was always time for change. Following his run-in with Bia, he had retreated back to the relative safety of the jungle, avoiding the village at all costs in the days following. Living in the jungle was easy in the sunny days. Food was plentiful, river water was safe enough to drink (he decided), and trees made for good beds when his tail was there to keep him from falling.

But there was the ever present threat of possible rain again, and that meant the need for a more reliable shelter. The village was out of the question. He wasn't about to risk that again. The caves and the area surrounding didn't much appeal to the cobra... Too cold, too dark. But the Beach Bar! It was open enough that he wouldn't feel threatened, while also located on the brilliantly warm sands of the beach within easy distance of the jungle's safety. The Beach Bar was finally serving a purpose. It was a temporary home.

While the afternoon sun blared down on the beach, too strong even for the cobra man to tolerate comfortably, Thom retreated into the bar, grimacing faintly when he caught sight of the man already seated and drinking. He hadn't planned on company. Nonetheless, he continued inside and around to the back of the bar, where he fixed himself a drink more for the sake of an excuse to be inside than anything. He didn't plan on drinking it.

"...Hello." Thom didn't even bother to pretend he was going to drink once he realized how far gone the other man was. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight, pushing his own glass a few inches away from himself. Where was the fun in getting drunk? He couldn't see a point to it. And he said as much aloud a moment later, relizing only afterward that he had done so. Frowning faintly, he cleared his throat and repeated more clearly, "Where's th' point in drinkin'? Can't see 'ow it 'elps anythin'."

His grimace became more pronounced at the combined assault of alcohol heavy breath and toothy grin. Add to that the fact that he could hardly understand what Sid had said, and Thom was about ready to endure the sun rather than this man's company. With most islanders, despite the changes, one was able to have a relatively normal conversation. Thom was quite sure that even if Sid had been sober, such an conversation would have been difficult.

"Rough spots," he echoed, nodding slightly. "Uh huh. But only temporarily, correct? Worse than b'fore th' next mornin'. Y'can't stay perpetually drunk."

He rolled his eyes, sidestepping further away from his own glass. "When y' collapse from blood poisonin' and are dragged off to th' labs--" He tensed, catching himself, and briefly lifted his eyes towards the dooorway, as if expecting someone to come waltzing through. When no one appeared, he turned his attention back to Sid, but continued to watch the doorway out of the corner of his eye. "It's hot outside. I'm waitin' for it t' cool off."

"I doubt it." Rather, he knew for a fact that he would be gone by then. The Beach Bar was all well and good during the day, but when night closed in and the bar grew dark, well... Even the relatively open room was too constricting for the cobra man. He would escape back to the jungle before night arrived. "I don't mind th' heat, it just gets a tad overwhelmin' at times. Cobra. Don't self-regulate anymore, or some such."

"Only when it rains," he countered, shrugging. "Sun's easy to deal with. Rain..." He shuddered and shook his head, briefly closing his eyes against memories of the storms he had endured in the jungle, the cold, the darkness, the shadowy figure hovering beside him. His eyes snapped open, fixing on a point outside of the door, on the shadey form grinning at him grinning at him from the sunwarmed sand. Automatically, Thom reached for his drink, tossing back the lot before risking another glance outside.

The form was gone. He fixed himself a second glass, pulling his eyes from the beach to watch with a sort of morbid fascination as Sid bent his fingers backwards.

He grunted a response, pulling his eyes from Sid's unusual hands to instead glance back to his own glass. It burned. How long had it been since he had had any alcohol? Even before the island it was a rare event, and since arriving he hadn't so much as a sip until now. Maybe a little wine here and there back home, but hard drinking was only for celebrations, not drowning sorrows. Still, he had never claimed to dislike it. He simply tried to avoid it. "I never said it tasted bad. I just can't see a good side t' bein' drunk."