[size=9pt]"Oni," Says Moon, because saying other's names in italics seems to be a thing he was doing today. He shuts his eyes for a second, grimaces at the child's statement, and turns to give him a withering look. "For once in your goddamn life, shut the fuck up."

With exhaustion rippling itself up his limbs in numbing waves, he turns back to Lazarus and watches him press against the ground with his flattened ears, wracks his mind for what the hell he was supposed to do. Was there protocol for finding an unexplained corpse on your own territory, with all signs pointing to it being another member's doing? The answer was no. Or, at least, Bast hadn't decided to enlighten him before he upped sticks. "We don't know what happened. I'm not calling guilty 'till proven innocent." He says, and as he speaks, there's the appearance of someone else at his side, and though he doesn't look, he knows who it is. The tension bleeds from Lazarus, if only slightly, and it can be none other than Gabe. Good. The dog's snarling wasn't helping his case. "If he says it wasn't him, it wasn't him."

His gaze lingers on the Cane Corso for a moment, silently willing him not to prove him wrong. He was trusting him. If he was wrong, and the dog lost it again and someone else turned up with their throat torn out, this would be on Moon. Quiet, somber, he walks to the body's side, makes an effort to gently nudge Azazel away. The grass is crimson-- it gets on his paws. "We need to bury them. And then figure out what the fuck is going on."

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