"It used to be my shirt. Now it's a table cloth." Zwerg made gave a fairly adorable growl and finally escaped, diving headfirst into Lunch along with his siblings. Moist's stomach did a flip that was not the pleasant, bottomless kind that he had grown so used to this past, wedded month. It was more intimately associated with one's lunch making a return trip. He sighed and nodded at Duo's empty hands.
"No. Which can only mean one thing," Duo added, eyebrows drawing together and angling faintly upward as he watched their runt, the baby, choke down some extremely red... carcass.
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"What- Is that your shirt?" He wandered over, giving the carnage a wide birth, to stand some distance behind Moist.
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"No luck?"
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"And I even know who it was."
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"Hey. I've been good. I swear." There was a very specific sort of grin. "My hands have been otherwise engaged."
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