"Nobody saw him die, or saw the body," Scourge grumbled, ripping into his steak with knife and fork. "People disappear from here all the time. Doesn't mean anything."

He didn't sound like he believed it, but he was annoyed enough at the situation to defend the possibility from any attackers--he'd spent all morning doing it to Lugnut in an attempt to keep him from taking over the bulletin board with his pleas. Made them look bad, made Scourge depressed--he saw too much of himself in it and the possibility of losing Cyclonus to madness like this. Somehow dying in a fleshy body felt far scarier than dying in his real one, as scary as any dying was.