"True, I suppose it'd be an excellent psychological attack," noted Martha in mild agreement, though she really wasn't planning on dwelling on the notion lest she become rather paranoid. "But no, I do sort of doubt it, though I'm working on a hunch only, I must admit."

She took a sip of her drink, which was delightfully fruity, and pushed the mini umbrella to one side as it threatened to bop her in the nose. "They said alternate universe at the desk. Nothing about changing species, though I didn't really ask--"

She cut herself off, scrutinizing the man again. "Is that what's happened to you?" she asked, brows raised in curiosity. It explained the not-drunk issues with body movement, he was likely experiencing serious dysmorphia.