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After Jamal's little run-in with Jordan and Alec, the tiger was feeling a lot less cocky and a whole lot more bitter and pained. After spending the latter part of that day evading guards on a severely injured leg, he found himself practically incapable of moving any further once he found his safe haven. He had grown accustomed to bruises and scratches that came with his rough-and-tumble living in the jungle, but this was the first time he'd been fought back against (he didn't count the possum knife-stick to be anything worth remembering) and suffered larger consequences.

He had washed the wound as best as he was able the following day and tied shredded t-shirt material about the thigh, but it still hurt a great deal. Even some plants, which he had identified as having cleansing abilities, did nothing to numb the pain or lessen his worry of infection. He had little medical knowledge either, which didn't help, but he'd sooner die from infection than to go back to the labs voluntarily. He was stubbornly set to that.

Jamal set himself as comfortably as he could back on the fringes of his usual haunt, his leg stiff and painful in it's propped position as he lay among the low brush. The fact he couldn't get up into a tree for better visual success bothered him a great deal, but he couldn't function that leg well enough yet to ascend to his usual perch. He tried to compromise with his sharpened senses, but that did little to lessen his paranoia. If the wrong person came up on him now, he was in trouble.

Jamal wasn't properly accustomed to scenting out reptiles, otherwise he might have been more aware of the approaching snake-man before he was practically upon him. Since this was not the case, however, Jamal had only been able to pick up the noise of something in the brush and had trained his hardened stare on the approximate area it was coming from. Great...Jamal knew he was in no shape to fight unless he absolutely had to. He started to gear himself up for a fight before Thom broke through.

At the hesitant query, Jamal bared his teeth in annoyance and pinned his ears back, sizing Thom up. "Da one 'n only," he spat harshly, trying to remember who this was. He was horrible with names and the lack of association of name to face made this even more difficult. "Seems I can't get no peace no mo' wit' all ya people runnin'..." he paused, looking at Thom's form a moment before continuing "O'whateva'...in herr. Peeps still wond'rin' if I'm still alive? Come ta' see fer yerself?"

He snorted, a harsh and rasped sort of sound, and spread one skillet-sized hand over the bulk of his wrapped leg to obscure it. "Took care o' a few issues," he said vaguely, clearly not wanting to get into a deep discussion about the matter. "I didn't think it through dat well." He pursed his lips, looking disgruntled, then blinked as though he had a sudden thought strike him.

"Yer prolly drawin' attention ta me though, ya bein' herr...ain't no one been this way in a long time...I'd 'preciate it if ya left, I don't need no ********' guards comin' this way. They gotta be out lookin fer me still." The way he said it didn't sound like a request. It sounded more like a demand.

"I didn't say nuthin' 'bout no islanders," he said acidly, shooting Thom another sizing-up look. "...but I 'spect dat that both of 'em ain't gonna botha' me no mo'." he said with a devilish smirk as an afterthought. "If they'd zapped 'em both, mighta saved me da trouble wit' ma leg." And the bruises from the hurled wheelchair.

The mention of the missing chip drew silence from Jamal for a moment but he looked distinctly pleased in that momentary lull. "Got it out, didya? Anyone else tryin? ********' labs gonna have real trouble now if we got lots of chipless sons-a-bitches out."

He paused, looking at his leg again, and grew sullen again. "I been tryin' ma best ta clean it. I ain't got nothin' else ta work wit'. Doubt clean wraps gonna help much if I kin't clean it out betta."

"I wasn't gonna let 'em take me alive. Ratha' rot ma leg off then let 'em get me back in da labs," he said lowly with a snarl, eyes flashing dangerously as though daring Thom to disagree with his feelings.

Jamal had no idea who Oz was, so he didn't ask about it. Probably a newer islander...and either a clumsy one or equally disadvantaged physically like Jamal was with his white coat. He waved that off and instead focused on Thom's offer.

"Booze...dat worked well 'nough fer me last time. Who you got in da village dat'll hook ya up wit' dat s**t? I ain't seen Antony in a long time o' I'd try ta get 'er ta help. Though, I ain't so good at sneakin' to da duplexes. Too damn white."

"Does it look like I kin go anywhere really if I wanted ta?" The response was cross, as seemed to be the norm, but the tiger had been remarkably low-key through the whole exchange. It was likely the fact that Jamal was well aware he was in a sticky situation that led to a more cordial exchange with this only slightly familiar individual. "I ain't tryin' ta move unless I gotta, so I ain't promisin' nuthin', but ya ain't gonna have no trouble findin' me if yer beastie senses work."

As to illustrate the point, Jamal tried to reposition his leg, which brought forth a drawn hiss, a grimace, and a paw-clenching reaction of pain.

By the time Thom returned, Jamal had removed his bandage to reveal the nasty mash of muscle and skin that took up a good portion of his thigh. Tooth marks were still evident at the edges of the wound. Using his claws, Jamal had started picking pieces of necrotic flesh out as well as various vegetation bits. The tiger was sweating some on the parts of his body that weren't covered in fur from the stress.

Thom's comments were noted but he didn't comment on them, only giving Thom a nod and then leaned back against the tree he had been using as a backrest. "Strong s**t, I hope," he inquired roughly, eyes lifting to the bottle.

The tiger didn't hesitate in taking a long drag from the bottle, which made him cough and stick his tongue out between his extended sabers, forgetting about the fire behind straight booze. He hadn't drank in some time either. "Maybe I kin sleep da pain off later...but I kin't get too trash 'o someone gonna sneak up on me," he said as he picked at the edge of his wound again, bottle clenched in his paw.

The question made Jamal pause. Would be his luck if the smuck he went after was a friend of this snakey fellow. Worst come to worst, he could always tackle the snake and get the bandages again if he no longer wished to help him.

"Fish dude...shark I think. Fo'got his name. Don't really care what 'is name is. ********' idiot ta be messin' wit' me."