They were clearly speaking incompatible languages because Tony stared back, just as baffled and horrified, and none of Kaz's justification lessened the divide. No, he wasn't kidding, Kaz had just killed a man he had already disarmed, and he was already turning away and unperturbed as Tony started to gesture toward the body, mouth open but finding he didn't have the words prepared to explain to someone why murder was bad. He hadn't considered this would be a problem.

"Hold on," he hissed, finally snapping out of his disgust and crawling toward the dead man. They had clearly interrupted his work, a long-barrelled rifle still set to point out over the street, watching those darkened buildings where Tony had seen the shadows move. Tony moved like he might only take the scope from it, then hesitated as he looked to the discarded handgun, clearly not the last one they were going to encounter, and took the whole rifle from its mount. "We're not killing anyone else," he warned even as he did, one finger raised to stop Kaz from thinking this was going to be a pattern.