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"Nuh-nuh-nuh—the readings are all wrong for that. He might be a version of Raph, but they're not close enough to be from a parallel universe—"
Mmf, this again. He slips away, preferring to curl around Red. He's tired.
Things are… fuzzy, now. Their little brothers have clued in that he's different somehow, but honestly. He's been here longer than anyone. What does a dead body matter?
Savage brushes against his shell, poking at him and settling there, like a weighted blanket.
He tugs the ache of their everything into himself, eyes shutting wearily. They can handle this without him…