Ghost Lion Crag don't worry about him, he's getting fired in the morning.

Artaax heard the approach of footsteps prior to her arrival. His ears told him that it was something larger and heavier than a fox or even a lynx. Perhaps it was a coyote, or maybe even a mountain lion. Either could make an easy meal of him in this state, if his stupid instincts would just stay quiet and let them. Evidence suggested that would not be that case, however he still didn't bother turning to look to see just what it was sneaking up behind him.

It turned out sneaking wasn't exactly the right word for it. Artaax's ears flicked at the voice and he opened his eyes to peer sidelong towards where the girl stood, looking at him in a way that suggested she was concerned about something. Probably him, considering how defeated and morose he appeared. Not to mention covered in dry blood in a few places - his own, Kiwi's, or the cat's, depending on where you looked - and dirty and ragged everywhere else.

He silently blinked his mismatched eyes at her for a long moment before answering. "Yes," he lied. Or was it a lie? It really depended on how you looked at it. A sane person would not look at it like the truth.