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Thom had very nearly panicked after waking in his dust-covered duplex, and had to resist the urge to scream and hide under the bed when the sore patch of skin on his back proved to have not one, but four clear injection marks. Anticipating a change--it had been a good few months since his last, after all, and, now that he thought about it, there was one more to come--, he had forced himself to remain in the duplex for the better part of the morning, using his old DVD of the World Cup to distract himself.

But on towards late afternoon, with no change to be had and the dusty room reviving old memories, he abandoned the duplex in favor of the jungle, and then, as an afterthought, the beach an the bar. Something was seriously wrong. How long had he been out? Why was his duplex all dusty, and why were there injection marks on his back? Had his final injection gone wrong? Had he been int he labs for...who knew how long?

What day was it?

Tommy hooked his thumbs on the edge of the bar and pulled himself up and over. The bourbon he had selected was piss poor...he needed to find himself some Gentleman Jack. All he wanted was to slip back into oblivion tonight...that's all. Anything to get the feeling of being zapped out of his system. He shuddered at the memory. He didn't know what time it was, what day it was, hell...or even what month it was. All he knew was that his shoulder still hurt from that boar attack a while ago.

The bat-man glanced over toward Victor as he entered, letting out a few bursts of echolocation. Huh...seems Victor's not going to be the only one coming this way. The form that came back into his mind from the echolocation was the outline of what could only be a giant snake. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the afterimage of the sonar before looking back to Victor. "S'alright...yaknow...besides the obvious...the whole zapping and waking up with an injection mark on the inside of my arm...yeah...besides that, I'm peachy!"

"They got you too? my duplexs wasss full of dusst and I check my calendar and it sssayss Augusssst 29th, like they knocked sssome of usss out and held usss up in the labsss...I didn't see any ssspotss they might have injected me, ssso no idea what they could have done"

Victor still had the foot of his foreleg in the icebucket and pulled it out when Thom showed up. The Lizardman looked the large snake over as he shuffled though the bottles. "Not Ssure, like the twenty ninth of Augusssst if the calender on my laptop isss right..."

"August 29th?" He raised a scaled brow, clearly skeptical, and set own the bottle before lifting his glass and taking a small sip. Thom grimaced at the taste, but proceeded to down the glass regardless before setting it down on the counter and reaching for the bottle once more. "But it was March yesterday. That's...five months. It can't 'ave been that long, can it?"

The cobra's tongue gave a short flick, and instantly Thom was aware of the bat's fear--though he didn't act on it, merely stored away the information and hid a smirk. It wasn't like it was a new sensation, after all. Half the islanders he spoke with were scared of him to a degree, especially if he hadn't met them before. "Any idea what 'appened? My duplex was th' same way, dust an' all. Doesn't seem like th' labs to dump us back in shoddy duplexes."

Newt was still leaping at full speed, powering away from the duplexes as though he could outrun his troubles. His brain was screaming to head to water, but the lake was too close to the village- the labs might be trying to find him! He had no idea why he had woken in his duplex rather than his lake, nor what the markings on his stomach and joints were REALLY, but he had some very good guesses and none of them were very pleasant. What had he done now?? He had been quiet and kept to himself and hadn't expressed a hint of trouble since his change! Heck, since BEFORE his change! Plotting with Thom didn't count in his mind- The supplies left in his hiding spots confirmed that the labs had not discovered them, and therefor couldn't be aware of the situation. Plotting with Nita? No! That was harmless! What did they want him to do? Sit in the mud all day and croak forever?

His rational thoughts were muddled and pieced together between frantic froggy screams to reach safe water as soon as possible and to flee flee flee from the predator that had been trying to catch him. It was just Dee! It was just Dee poor Dee poor her face she was sick she was sick and the IV hanging from her arm and he was terrified and couldn't think and he shouldn't have run but he couldn't help it and...

His thoughts began to slow as he realized he had overshot the entrance to the river in his frantic state, and his hopping slowed as he approached the beach bar. His eyes were streaming in a mixture of shattered nerves and the sickening feeling in his stomach as the realization that he had just hopped away from the woman he.... well, he was fond of at a period where she needed him the most. He was still hopping quickly as he came nearer, his vision blurred with tears as he gasped for air, unable to focus on who might have been congregated at the bar already.

"Your shoulder still hurt?" He raised a brow, frowning. "Seems like if we'd been in th' labs for that long, they'd 'ave done somethin' about that... Five months couldn't 'ave gone by that fast. They can't 'ave room for all th' islanders insider that lab facility, can they?" With one hand he lifted his glass for another sip, while the other reached back to rub the sore injection marks with his palm.

He peeked over his glass at Tommy as the bat turned towards the door, craning his head slightly to listen, though it was a good few seconds before the sounds of someone crashing through the jungle reached him. "..Oh, lovely. Just what we need."

The frog leaped across the beach, bounding through the air past the drinkers to dive behind the bar with a terrified croak. He saw scales, predominantly, and scales to a frog meant predator, and the warning bells erupted loud and frantic once again. His brain ached, rational thought drowned out by the urge to find some dark damp place to huddle in, his eyes still streaming with the aftershocks of his previous fright.

There was the crash and rattle of bottles as the giant frog tried to hide himself under one of the lower shelves with a squeal, a chirp and a croak.