Alligator encounters were becoming quite a common event out here, huh? He supposed he deserved it for deciding to claim a reptilian-infested swamp as his little project's territory, but he figured that if no one bothered the alligators, then the gators would leave them alone. But apparently, since people had to go stirring trouble, now there was an alligator in camp, based on the angered hissing not too far away that disturbed him from his work. Casting an irked glare over his bristling shoulder, the poltergeist caught glimpses of a crowd gathered around the corner of an ivy-strangled house. His brow furrowed at the lack of actual fighting, screaming, or sounds of flesh being torn apart -- why were they so calm about a gator in camp? Pulling himself away from weaving together a hunting net with an ache starting to rear its ugly head in his replicated muscles, the poltergeist cautiously limped over to the sudden cluster of his peers all ogling at what he thought was a threat.

    Shoving past Amunet with a muffled apology, he was greeted with a miniature version of an alligator, halting to stare down at the hatchling in bewilderment. Freckled snout crinkling, he sent a wide-eyed glance towards the distressed Nayru before his expression faltered and he gave a morbid giggle, "Who knows, maybe y'all killed the mom with your little water-cleaning party." He wouldn't doubt it. Interference with nature was generally a bad idea when one considered the domino effect an alligator massacre had to the rest of the swamp. He slumped back onto muddied haunches, maintaining a safe radius away from the baby gator just in case. At the mention of training their own attack gator, Beck's eyes glinted with a wicked light, a sharkish grin splitting his maw. "If ya can train it, go for it. I wanna see that gator rip some arms off," he raspily cooed down at the hatchling, recoiling to make room for Killian's investigation of the creature.