Alcide starts to sit on his bed as well, but at the last minute he just starts slowly pacing the room back and forth, left and right and diagonal. He's got all this restless energy and he's afraid that if he relaxes, if he lets his guard down, he'll give over to those baser instincts of his self that he usually doesn't let himself give over to. He just met Derek. Derek seems like a nice guy. There's no need for Alcide to make a damn fool of himself with Derek.

"Fed up is right." He says with a nod. It's been two days and he's already fed up. Then again, Alcide doesn't have much tolerance for injustice. And that's just what this seems like to him. Abducted and put to work, bits of himself missing without his consent? Yep. Injustice. Someone's gonna pay.

"I think they did somethin' to us today. Maybe..." He looks up at the vent that usually pumps a sleep aide into the room. "Maybe through the vent." Buffy bought him a gas mask, but maybe it was pumped into the room after he took his off this morning. Alcide really, really hates being drugged.

He's still glaring at the vent when his exhale turns into a low, dangerous growl. "Fuck this shit."