"You see? The others still need FOOD," Kevin echoed, empty eyes widening. He pulled his weight from the pipe to his feet, lifting the filthy metal upward to inspect it between his grimy fingers for faults. A strange giggle escaped him, out of place, out of nowhere.

His attention turned, very suddenly, to Courfeyrac.

"I'm VERY hungry, myself."

The words come out strange, warped, distorted, all wrong - the pipe is swung outward, fast and hard, aiming for knees, shins, feet. Aiming to hobble, not kill. Not yet.