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[color=2E561F]"Y'know what gets me 'bout Brazil?"[/color]

Billy had been talking to the young man for several minutes through bass-boosted headphones and a thick layer of dreadlocks, and though the young man's only contribution to the conversation had been a few "Yeah"s or "That's Right"s and brief moments of eye contact or nodding, there was no break in Billy's reptillian gaze on the youth. To Billy, this was an ordinary conversation, because to [i]Billy[/i], this was about as close as most people could tolerate him.

[color=2E561F]"They're like Mexicans, but they don't speak Spanish. They speak that [i]Portuguese[/i], yessir."[/color] Billy adjusted his sunglasses to emphasise his phrasing, peeking over the edge of the shades. They fit oddly on his face, squared off over his snout and barely reaching his eyes, though the airport sold them for six American dollars and Billy felt it was a necessary expenditure. Plus, he sort of looked like Horatio Caine in them.

[color=2E561F]"Rest of South America stuck with Spanish, they said 'Fuck you, I'm Brazil and I'll speak any Got-dang language I please, I'm not no Spanish speakin' cocksucker like all ya'll',"[/color] He said, looking decidedly not like Horatio Caine, [color=2E561F]"And they got all sortsa looks, so you never know if they're actually Brazilian. Some of em's the favela kind you seen in Slumdog Billionaire, some of 'ems blacker than you. Some of 'em look halfway between 'em, like injuns almost, y'know?"[/color] He sighed as he finished his rant, taking off the sunglasses which he realized were kind of tight on his face to begin with. He leaned back and tucked his claws in his pockets, nodding slowly to himself. [color=2E561F]"Yessiree."[/color]

After a few moments of uninterrupted silence, he pulled a flask from the pocket of his grimy pants, unscrewed it with a bit of fidgeting, and splashed it towards the back of his mouth -- Billy was lipless, after all, and ate and drank rather like a raptor. He shivered, and cracked his neck for a moment, gesturing to the young man with the flask as if asking him to take away a flask of radioactive waste. [color=2E561F]"You want some? Smuggled it in my checked luggage. That there's corn mash whiskey. Puts hairs on your sack, I'll tell ya what."[/color]

The young man shook his head, not looking up from his phone, though Billy paid no mind. 

"I'm good."

[color=2E561F]"That's what they drank back in the colonial times, little history lesson for ya there. Then I think that pilgrim beer, Sam & Adam or somethin' like that. Never had a taste for it myself, tell you the truth. Tastes like ratdick."[/color]

In the distance, two green sedans pulled up to the curb, rusted at the edges with age and covered in a thin layer of grime. As if in unison, six young men exited the cars, talking to one another and looking at the registering nomads.

[color=2E561F]"Now Coors, they make a good beer. I don't drink that light shit 'cause I'm not no fuckin' candyass, but it's good stuff. Getcha buzzed for less than a tenner, you know what I'm talkin 'bout."[/color] He chuckled, nudging Jaden with his elbow, and was met with a half-hearted "You know it" and an audibly forced laugh.

Billy's reptile eyes scanned upwards, dilating slightly as he sniffed the newcomers straying in the distance. [color=2E561F]"Say, them boys over dere look like they're watchin' us?"[/color] He growled, a deep guttural crocodile hiss, and two of the six men took a step back, patting their comrades on the back and hissing into one another's ears. Jaden looked over in the distance for a moment, though he gave only a shrug.

"Maybe they've just never seen a walking crocodile, man."

[color=2E561F]"Crocodileman."[/color] Billy corrected him quietly, still leering at the men getting back into their cars. He sniffed at them once more suspiciously, and turned back to Jaden.

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[color=2E561F]"[b][i]BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD-GOD![/i][/b]"[/color] Billy roared, uncharacteristically both making a Warhammer reference and letting a man live. Moments ago, a young gangster had come out of the crowd at Billy, swinging a machete at his neck in the hopes of making himself known in his circle as "The Dragonslayer" or something heroic like that. Instead, Billy grabbed had grabbed the young man by the arms and pulled them forecfully, while putting his foot on the young man's chest and kicking forward. His arms had left their sockets with an almost velcro-like sound, though that was then and this was now. And [i]now[/i], that young armless gangster was running wobbily away from Billy, screaming wildly, all-the-further away from being given a cool nickname. Of course, Billy didn't know that. What he [i]did[/i] know was surprisingly little about Brazillian laws concerning murder, which he had unknowingly been breaking for the past few minutes.

[color=2E561F]"[b]Gotta love those Brazillian street-rules, know what I mean, Dreads?[/b]"[/color] He shouted once more at the youth cutting up gangsters with precision, who paid him little mind. [color=2E561F][i]Ah,[/i][/color] Billy thought to himself. [color=2E561F][i]The strong, silent friendship. Admirable move, Dreads.[/i][/color] He turned away, and grabbed the nearest knife-wielding gangster, pulling his panicking arm into his mouth and severing it, pulling back to chomp away at the screaming man's arm before swallowing it whole. [color=2E561F][i]I took three arms today,[/i][/color] Billy began thinking again, quietly ignoring the chaotic bloodshed unfolding all around him.[color=2E561F][i]Ain't that something? One full spin of the ol' sun, two men are goin' to bed with less arms than they woke up with. That's somethin' to think on, Yessir.[/i][/color] An axe-handle hit him square in the back, landing with a hard [i]thunk[/i]. [color=2E561F][i]That reminds me of that Skynyrd concert in '77. Think I ate seven legs. That's a lot of wheelchairs, come to think.[/i][/color] [i][b]thunk thunk[/b][/i] [color=2E561F][i]Wonder how many wheels that is. Do wheelchairs ever need new wheels? Reckon they do same as a car.[/i][/color] [b][i]THUNK[/i][/b]
Billy turned to meet the eyes of the man wailing away at him with the stick, growling menacingly.

His assailant dropped his axe-handle in horror, staring at Billy's reptillian eyes, almost completely immobilized. There was a flash of green movement, and both he and Billy were on the floor. Then, a sharp crunch at the man's left shoulderblade and a wail of agony.

[color=2E561F][i]Four arms. Now yer just bein' mean, Billy. Heh.[/i][/color]