It becomes clear quickly enough to Kit what they all intend to do, and he can't keep himself from grimacing in dismay. It's not the dwarven way of doing things--but, he reminds himself, topsiders aren't of the Stone, and feel no need to return to it. Still, he can't keep himself from shifting his weight from foot to foot with some agitation.

He almost doesn't hear Myr, and has to turn his right ear towards him to hear the rest of what he asks. "No," he admits. "Just--enough to know he was an elf. He was badly beaten."

He kneels beside the body, hesitates, and then rests a hand against the place where the elf's shoulder is covered by the blanket. "Poor sod," he murmurs, face and voice pained.