As much as Beck thrived from chaos, this whole situation was spiralling into ludicrosity. And he didn't even get the chance to wreck any havoc himself! Whatever, politics failed to interest him anyways. Having observed enough from the intangible sidelines, the poltergeist stepped out from the shadowy cloak of nonexistence to approach the growing conflict. The mangy feline puffed out his remaining cheek in exasperation as two differing conversations swung back and forth, his limp slowing until he halted behind his peers and narrowed his eyes at the two strangers. His dark nose flared as he sought out their individual scents, head jerking to the right before he craned his neck forward for a better sniff. Only for his chance of identifying the two Rosebloods to be ruined as a canine unfamiliar to him lurched out to attack. At least the dragon had the foresight to step out of the way. Rolling amber eyes with a faint grumble, Beck extended a dark tendril comprised of his slimy being from the wound piercing his back to snag Usagi mid-air by the neck, aiming to yank the canine back, where he would slam the demon down in the mud. "What are ya, fu-uckin' nuts? Beck hissed through sharkish teeth, hackles bristing with static as his shapeshifted appendage retreated back into its wound. "If y'all got some, some per-personal shit to deal with, do it off our territory, got it?" With a final snort, the medic twisted his head around to glare at the supposed leader, peeling back his lips into a nasty grin.
"Ya must be a ba-ad leader if ya can't control your group, huh?" he quipped out the side of his unscathed snout, running a blistered tongue along his teeth. "Delilah 'n' Whisper were killed by different folks, ya know. Two di-ifferent scents, I remember 'em. The dumbasses e-even left 'callin' cards': one of 'em spray-painted an ugly smiley-face next to Delilah, the other skinned Whisper's face to bone! Sound like any folks ya know?" His waterlogged rasping was devoid of sorrow for the slain, yet as he described the gory details, his voice lilted into an excited squeal. Beginning to fiddle with the gauze binding his forearms, Beck glanced down at his chest, mumbling something incoherent under his ragged breath. He bit on his tongue, creeping back into line with his fellow clanmates. Those murder mystery dramas on television were much more entertaining than this.
[align=center]»――➤"Ya must be a ba-ad leader if ya can't control your group, huh?" he quipped out the side of his unscathed snout, running a blistered tongue along his teeth. "Delilah 'n' Whisper were killed by different folks, ya know. Two di-ifferent scents, I remember 'em. The dumbasses e-even left 'callin' cards': one of 'em spray-painted an ugly smiley-face next to Delilah, the other skinned Whisper's face to bone! Sound like any folks ya know?" His waterlogged rasping was devoid of sorrow for the slain, yet as he described the gory details, his voice lilted into an excited squeal. Beginning to fiddle with the gauze binding his forearms, Beck glanced down at his chest, mumbling something incoherent under his ragged breath. He bit on his tongue, creeping back into line with his fellow clanmates. Those murder mystery dramas on television were much more entertaining than this.