The lombax waits long moments but... it... seems as if everyone's very nearly as lost as he is. Near silence lingering here. Heavy silence like apprehension. Like an anticipated that won't come just yet...
Then a tall man, muchmuch taller than the lombax's four feet, looks around. And speaks. And the lombax knows that look. There's a flash in green eyes that are still darker than they should be.
"...'less it's some killer yer lookin' t'stop, an' I mean stop without th' killin' bit, why'dya give a damn? Y'think she'll like figurin' someone got killed over 'er?" Glaze flickers to the pale face past familiar green feathers and unfamiliar ash quills. Something broken alights in his eyes for a second before he draws it back to the tall redhead, almost quietly questioning.