Questions plagued him for hours after his wandering brought him back to a home erased from his mind. Hours turned to days as he combed through his brain and all four of its lobes, desperate to pin a reason on why everything was so familiar. The scents were what bewildered him the most; while the whiskey-infused hound didn't stir a response from his catalog of memorized identities, the other three caused his nose to twitch and sniff and flare, catching whiffs of people he shouldn't know yet he still dearly missed. A salty breeze, bitter chocolate shavings, and burnt sulfur all fusing together into looming nausea. He hated it. Hated being aware of a gap where missing memories and relationships had been stolen from him yet unable to recall what he forgot in the first place. Pacing in circles alone and brooding over fuzzy glimpses failed to recover anything valuable for decades, why did he believe his tactics would work now?

    Need to go back. No, he didn't, he could figure himself out on his own. Ya gotta go back. "Shut up!" the boy hissed through razor-blade teeth, but the time for argument long since passed, his paws dragged by an invisible fishline with hooks sunk in deep to his pads, reeling him back to where the throbbing questions originated. Fatigued from struggling against his counterpart's will -- always did make a good puppet, y'know -- he blankly watched his feet shuffle along on their own, stiff and clumsy similar to a toddler's first steps. At least the other had the manners to collect an ignorant plant in his jaws by the bucket handle before setting on their way. Blurred vision locked on the ground, the entity neglected to notice the passing scenery nor the fleeing prey nor the afternoon sun moving to cower behind the mangrove canopy.

    When the haze over his mind freed its hooks as soon as he approached what appeared to be the outskirts of a town, Beck snapped to attention, eyes stretching wide and ears swiveling in a frenzy for nearby threats before sucking in a hollow gasp for air, Audrey's bucket handle hung from his teeth. Lazily smoothing down his grimy chest fur with an equally dirty paw, he propped himself up against the gnarled roots of a willow to double-check all his belongings were with him. After a hasty fish through the convenient pocket stored alongside his recreated guts and assurance that nothing had been lost, he gave a rasping sigh, lowering further into his lean on the tree. Why was he brought back? An answer arrived as a sharp pang through his numbed heart, craving something, something higher than the state he stalled at now. Power. A stand of drool dripped from his scarred maw at the thought, before he licked the toxic spit back into his mouth and regained his bearings. Doubtful he would be allowed to retreat once more, by both the resident swamp-dwellers and himself, Beck clutched the dented bucket Audrey was quickly outgrowing close to his chest in an awkward hug, resting a chin wet with chemicals on the fly trap's head as he waited for the answers to his hundreds of questions come to him on a silver platter. He didn't want to disturb anybody -- abruptly, the poltergeist tipped back his head and crowed to the heavens, "They're here!" before lapsing into a brief spasm of twitching, falling still once the figurative itch was scratched. Not even a minute and he already exposed himself for the crazed fool he truly was. "Fant-tastic..." was all he could mumble, twirling one of Audrey's thorny vines around his paw with a sulk.

    Ears thinly lined with matted wisps angled their tips to the leaf-blotted heavens, swiftly registering a female's feeble voice calling out for no response. Feline senses were an advantage to be grateful for, at least, although it was a struggle adjusting to whiskers when he first adopted a housecat's form. Sniffing back the coppery tang threatening to spill from his button-nose, he couldn't keep himself from answering Delilah's query to himself, "Ya sho-ouldn't ever ask-k if anyone's there, don'tcha know the rules..." His wavering voice trailed into hoarse snickering, the shrill laughter muted as though his windpipes were clogged with mold.

    The boy quickly lapsed into a tense silence, equally as emotionless as Delilah, when a pink-furred beast hobbled across his line of sight only to halt before him with stiff protocol. Amber eyes flicked up and down, determining the handicapped medic to be no immediate threat, and Beck's features reanimated like a mischevious zombie toying with a meal, devilish smirk contorting freckles and scars. "Aw, tha-at's borin', why dont'cha ask better questions?" He teased before interrupting himself with a jerky twist of his shoulders, sending a rapid-fire cascade of popping ligaments down his spine. Hiding an unwanted impulse to chirp or whistle or both, Beck glared at Delilah's three muddy feet in familiar embarrassment, hoping for the urges to pass before tentatively parting his disfigured maw to answer -- only for a yellow flash carrying that damning scent of crisped sulfur to speak his name for him. How dare he? "He-ey, traffic cone, I ca-an speak -- speak for myself!" the poltergeist snarled, heaving himself to his bandaged paws, causing Audrey to shift back to attention, swiveling its oddly-toothed trap to face the arriving vibrations in the air. Beck huffed, chemical slobber beading at his lower lip once more, "Yeah, 'm Beck, what's it matter to-o ya?" However, Vigenere barked out a curious request, one that the boy couldn't quite answer wholely himself. Tilting his head to the left and narrowing eyes in thought, he decided upon a simple reason: "I wanna remember."

    As Vigenere's lips peeled themselves to expose teeth, Beck mimicked, although his mutilated snout contorted itself into a gleeful sneer, satisfied by his negative reaction. Yet once blood leaked into the water, the shark wasn't sated with a mere taste. His impending feeding frenzy was forced to a skittering halt when the captain's gaze tried to meet his, to which Beck hastily ducked away from. He hated eye contact, he hated it! How was he supposed to hide his true thoughts and intentions with people staring straight into his eyes? Avoiding the taller male's glare, his confidence melted and crumpled into a shivering puddle, tucking his chin close to his shallow chest as the boy huffed with his leftover rebellion, "Are ya tryin' to interro-interrogate me or somethin'?" From all his observations, he knew he couldn't be rejected from joining without evidence he was a threat to their livelihood, and he didn't intend to stir up a riot right off the bat. All he sought were the memories evading his grasp and power, was that too much to ask?

    Once again sniffing back a nosebleed, he allowed only a sideways glance at the serval as he brainstormed an answer to fulfill his pesky questions. What a hard-ass, he's no fun... no fun at all. A swarm of buzzing thoughts nipped at his tongue as he fumbled to formulate a sentence, notably stuttering more than before. "I, um, I du-uno, dunno-o... thought th-hat, uh -- I mean, just had a, dunno, feelin', ya know?" Eloquence commonly failed him; why won't his stupid, stupid mouth work as his brain told it to? Sinking pearly claws into the mire underfoot, he neglected to refrain from the urge to suddenly burst out into a fit of wavering giggles, yet quickly recovered his control in fear they would suspect him. With his embarrassing display concluded, Beck only had a wobbly smile left to show, although for once, the expression was slightly genuine, hoping he wouldn't be rejected or perhaps something even worse anxiety would no doubt cook up shortly.