SMALL LIVES (Murder, open)

[Zjarr]

[div style="width: 48%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]"No, kid, y'did what y'could. Don't worry, y'did fine,"[b] Zjarr murmured to Thea, his gaze showing no signs of departing from the corpse anytime soon. Naturally he was blissfully unaware of what had truly unfolded—all he knew of the situation was what was already made clear. Roy was murdered by an outsider, a feline his size with chestnut and cream fur and a metal leg. Hmm, a prosthetic? Well, that'll make 'im easier to spot. There was a struggle to form some sort of emotion, yet at Riza's arrival he could finally formulate something: sympathy. A lover lost to a cold hand.

Turning from the corpse, the demon would face Bastille as the other feline spoke. [b]"I'd like to help out in anyway I can. Er, start with, eh, baggin' what we got on the guy." Guy, girl, person, whatever. This was a killer they were dealing with. And Zjarr would begin by collecting and organizing the evidence, if not just a mere bag of fur. His hues switched to the form of Feyre, who had suggested to communicate with the dead. "Think it'll help us out?" It was a stupid question on his part, but he wanted to make sure they were being efficient with their strategies. That, and he was totally unsure of the child's abilities to summon and speak with spirits. He did not doubt her skills, no, but he had simply never seen her in action.

[glow=#f24b00,2,300]how'd it get so scandalous?[/glow] — ☼