Sayid wasn't going to let his temper go. Because it was that simple. It had to be. There was a world of difference between knee-jerk reactions and thinking on one's feet. Already he'd let his pride get the better of him with that man on the beach and gotten more scraped up than he cared to admit. And he'd broken his self-imposed moratorium on violence after a pitifully brief exchange of acrid language. He only hoped that rescue would come soon so that he could put it all behind him and get to Los Angeles before his visa expired.
As Sayid sat on the beach, fiddling with bits of this and that and setting aside a laptop battery that was dead beyond use, he heard a sound in the trees behind him. First he just sat up a little straighter. Then he heard it again. It was a rustle and a whisper, and there was something else, very far away -- imagined, surely, but he stood very slowly and turned to look into the jungle.
He didn't see anything. Just trees and shadows.
Sayid looked up the beach, seeing people dragging things through the sand, going through luggage. One woman, a slender bronzed blonde, was sunbathing. Sometimes someone would look to the jungle, and he wondered ...
"Did anyone else hear that?" he asked.