Lennon vaguely heard what Jack and Felix were saying and he had to wonder how you could recognize anything on that. He hadn't had anything against the guy but he'd never paid that much attention to Jerome; he couldn't have said what color the man's eyes were, even. What eyes? his shocked brain muttered. He choked, made a wheezing sound and finally gained some semblance of control over himself.
He had absolutely no desire to look at the body again, but he did straighten up and force himself to take a few steps in Edwin's direction, picking up the tail of his t-shirt and thoroughly wiping his face with it. "What do we do?" he asked, his voice a hollow ghost of its usual self. "H-he needs to be buried, sometime, but--." Lennon trailed off, completely at a loss. They didn't have shovels. How did you even dig a grave in these circumstances.