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Bucadu looked up at him, her eyes bright and gleaming as the sun reflected in their wide gaze.

"Sometimes," she admitted. With a smile that looked very cat-like, she snuggled into him. A growl escaped her throat, which Sam would know was her own version of a purr. Poor Bucadu. She wanted so badly to be feline, but the only thing she had sounded beastly and intimidating. Still, coming out of such a cute form, the sound was cute. In its own right. She snuggled up against him, insistent on some attention. "When you're not around."

((aaaawe, okay. D: ))

((Real life is getting more and more demanding :/

Whatever happened to the days when people wanted nothing to do with you and you were left to your own devices?))

Sam sighed contentedly, welcoming the pressure from Bucadu as his hair grew a deeper shade of contented blue. He wanted to go outside soon, and he had been promised the occasion, but didn't know when. Though he didn't really care, he assumed Bucadu was the reason they weren't allowed outside of the facility yet. She was unstable, and Yani wasn't quite sure what to do with his newest "daughter"--though, rumor had it, Yani had an actual biological son now--and didn't want her getting in trouble. It never occurred to him that all the new sensations and curiosities were so abundantly overwhelming that he was a concern as well.

Bucadu's answer interested him. This was the period of his life when Sam asked "Why?" with persistent ruthlessness.

"Why is that?"

Sam frowned. Normal. He didn't understand what was so great about it either, though most of the chimerae acted as though it were the greatest thing come true.

What was "normal", exactly? From what Sam had gleaned from other chimerae, it was not them. Whatever it was, it was Other.

He rolled over onto his stomach and scooted back towards Bucadu, repossessing her body's warmth. He plucked a blade of grass and held it to his lips, whistling through it. A scientist had inadvertently taught him how when undergoing a type of observation sub-titled "immersion". He spent several hours among chimerae, talking to them, interacting with them, observing them. Sam had been observing him too, and had picked up a few new tricks, least of all making the grass whistle.

"Normal is this?" Sam suggested, indicating the grass, half-asking the question to himself. "No... Normal is..." he looked around the courtyard, looking for something normal. "Normal is wearing white coats and carrying clipboards?"

At that moment, Yani sauntered up to them, pulling something half his height along with him. "Normal: in accordance with, constituting, conforming to, and not deviating from a standard."

Sam immediately sat up, paying respect to Yani. There was something about Yani that made him wary, the same "normalness" that he and his sister had just been discussing. The scientists were normal to themselves, and the chimerae were normal to each other, but Yani belonged in neither category. The scientists treated him differently and treated the chimerae differently than they did each other. The same with other chimerae. No one treated Yani normal, and he treated everyone else "normal". Paradox. Sam didn't yet know what the word meant, but it sounded in his mind and seemed to fit.

He didn't understand the definition Yani had provided either, but it didn't matter. He semi-understood now. They weren't: that's all that mattered.

Sam spared a glance to the kid behind Yani, and Yani pulled him forward and introduced him.

"Sam, Bucadu, this is my son Neo. Neo, say hi?" He smiled down at his son, proud to be the father of such a wonderful creation. He spared hardly a thought for the mother since he'd been born. "I just wanted to leave him here with you guys for a little while, see how you all got along. I'm going to be gone for most of today, so take care of him, alright?" Yani wasn't going to be gone at all. In fact, he was going to be stuck in a cool surveillance room with two drying eyes glued to computer screens in order to make sure Neo was totally safe. TAIS was instructed to intervene should anything risky go on--like Bucadu going on a rampage and Sam being unable to stop her. This was immersion training for all three of them. Bucadu and Sam's default, when not chasing chimerae, was to protect and supervise Neo. TAIS had informed him that was unnecessary and that her system could monitor and care for Neo much more efficiently, but Yani was unconvinced as a parent.

Sam and Bucadu were also being evaluated: Bucadu at keeping her cool and Sam at helping her keep her calm. Should she blow up, Sam's evaluation would lie in three parts: most importantly, protecting Neo, then how quickly he stabilized her and what methods were used.

All else is superfluous, Yani thought as he was creating the system.

((OOC: *scowl*))

Apsalar looked up from the game at last, her face full of quiet concern. John hadn't come back in yet. She hadn't heard him, and she would have.

Giving Tobart and Lonomia a quick, absentminded smile, she glided to her feet. "I'm going to step outside for a second," she said. "Things are...quiet out there."

A little too quiet.

Not waiting for their replies, she left the room and went out through the back door. Staring out at the beach for a moment - she never got used to how...open it was - she shook her head once to bring her attention back to what she'd come out to do.

That done, she walked down the stairs, scanning the area around her for any of the others.

Why was it so quiet?

John glided around in the air for a few moments more after the encounter with Jared, not bothering to check on Smoke and Hound. Jared was such an incompetent fool, nothing would come of John's tipping him off.

So he thought.

In any case, John wasn't planning on regretting his decision. He didn't know what he would find when he returned to the beach house, but Smoke and Hound would supposedly have been gone for a few days. Nothing to be done about that but to wait it out.

In the meantime, John wasn't quite sure what to do now. He had left in a rage, but now he was heading back. Hopefully he'd steer clear of Hiccadu. She was just trouble in the making. She hadn't done anything terrible to all of them yet, but he still wasn't comfortable with Smoke's decision to bring her along.

John landed silently on the sand, shook his wings from the flight, and folded them behind him. In the night, the wind had switched from blowing in towards land to blowing out to sea, and the breeze ruffled his hair and feathers.

He looked up at the beach house and sighed. He wanted to talk to Apsalar, but didn't want to confront everyone else just yet. Hoping she'd come out sooner or later, John knelt down and began building shapeless towers and trenches in the sand.

((I'm really stuck now. Hound needs to come back, and Smith's associates need to get it in gear.))

After every imagined sound, John had stopped looking back towards the house to see if it was Apsalar. Eventually, he had lost track of time and the pile of sand had turned into something relatively crafted, if not artistic. At least, instead of one big pile of sand, it was a big pile of sand with character.

And, having gotten absorbed in his thoughts (if not his "creation"), John was somewhat startled when Apsalar soundlessly approached him. He looked up at her, squinting in the darkness. Though it was a full moon, the light was behind her and made it hard for his night vision to kick in.

"Apsalar. Hi. I'm just..." John looked at his sand mutation and tilted his head, wondering exactly what to call it. "I'm just... Playing with sand," he finished awkwardly. He took in a deep breath, exhaled, and then gestured to it with rough, grainy hands. "Want to join me?" Though, even if she did, they'd both have to go inside soon. The night was getting colder.

Conflicts were running through his mind. Should he ask to see Tobart as well, so they could all talk about it? There seemed to be too many unresolved questions. And John was reasonably certain that it would be a better idea than to leave things to sit and ferment the way they would.

Though, maybe that was the right thing to do. Apsalar was right. They should wait until they get somewhere, like Cuba or wherever Smoke was supposed to be taking them.

He wiped his forehead with a wrist, careful not to get sand in his eyes. He almost wish Smoke had been there, as a source of advice. But no, he had tortured John worse than Jared. There wasn't any way John could rely on him. And accusing him of being about to rape Apsalar...

John took a quick breath and exhaled, shaking his head imperceptibly. No. Wait for an opportunity, either here or in Cuba. Patience.

Apsalar seemed pleased by the invitation. "Okay," she replied, sitting beside him and examining the sand pile for some time. Damned if she could figure out quite what he'd been trying to make. But not knowing what was going on had never stopped her before.

She picked up a handful of sand of her own and carefully pressed it into the side of the object, rubbing it lightly between her hands to smooth the sides down while she shaped it. The amount of concentration she was focusing on it was somewhat adorable - she looked like a little girl for a minute or two, entirely bound up in the building of a sand castle.

For a minute, she debated with herself. This moment was nice, just playing in the sand with a friend. Did she really want to ruin it?

She had to.

So she looked up and pinned him with those amber eyes, and she didn't look like a little girl anymore.

"I talked to Tobart," she said quietly. "He...as far as I could tell, he does not mean to challenge you for the leadership." As though embarrassed to have brought it up, she looked back down at what she seemed to have claimed as her half of the sand pile, which was slowly growing and taking shape under her hands. "I am still not very good with the language and the words - you are all very patient with me, but I know. But I feel like there is more to what is happening than what is being said."

Her hands continued to move, to build, while she talked, and her gaze stayed firmly on the sand. "Do you know why we are all still here, John?" She could only assume that that was where this curious tension had come from - the 'more' that she sensed, but could not put into words.

John didn't know what to say. There was a lot going on under the surface, things that he hadn't discussed with Apsalar. But the reason for that was that John himself didn't know how to say it.

"There's a lot going on, Apsalar," he admitted, frowning and then sighing, leaning back on his elbows, sand-forming forgotten. "But I don't know the words to tell you."

He waited for a while, forming his thoughts. He would try to find the words to explain, somehow of communicating through the limitations of language. He was glad she had talked to Tobart, but there was a feeling that maybe he would take advantage of the delay to beat John in the race. There was a sense of urgency that had been accumulating until that point, and John was teetering on the edge. And then there was that business with Smoke, Jared, and Hound. Every moment they didn't turn up was another moment John wondered whether Jared had been able to find them after all.

Then there was the matter of leading the group and getting away, which was of less urgency. Though John didn't like Smoke, and didn't trust him totally, he had gotten them out of trouble. And he knew more about the world than John did, which was why they had to rely on him at all. Otherwise, they could just lie low.

He turned to Apsalar to say all of this, maybe to vent, but closed his mouth when he looked at her. It wasn't her burden to bear, maybe.

But no, that wasn't it. It was the simple fact that, like John understood Apsalar when she didn't understand words, Apsalar always understood him. He met her eyes, conveying all he felt in that simple, familiar, silent communication everyone shared. Showing weariness, hope, ache, familiarity, friendship, love, responsibility, frustration, annoyance, potential. Uncertainty. Somethings that words could never quite capture.

He let the contact rest for a moment before he shifted forward and stood up. "It'll be alright," he said momentarily, giving her a weak, hopeful smile. He hoped that whatever message he had imagined had indeed passed to her; that he didn't know, but that it would all be okay. He lowered a hand to help her up from the sand, then dusted off his hands, arms, and wings. The sun had completely set some time ago, and it was getting cold. Time to go back inside.