Redhawk Caldera For... laughs?

It felt wrong to suddenly not have any way to alert to adults. They were probably going to have a great big party to celebrate The Day The Thing Was Quiet; however, for the time being, Titmouse didn't know what to do. He was squirming on his back when Liffey came to investigate him. Her nearby face gave him something to focus on and reach for — although each time he got close, she ducked him. Through it all Titmouse was making some kind of noise, but it was nothing like the screech he had come to be known for. It was more like a wheeze. Some kind of sad parody of a fart. A tittering, bird-like, but ultimately not right sound. Maybe eventually he'd regain something that he'd lost. For now though, the poor boy had screamed himself hoarse.