It's inevitable, in some way, that Daud should lose touch with Billie. The tiefling's figured out that wax earplugs seem to do the trick for blocking the worst of the influence, which means he's taken to wading further into the thick of it, thinking little of needing to check in on Billie when he'd already given her the same warning he gave the rest: stay away from the water. Don't listen. There's a comfort in the simplicity of cutting the inhuman ranks of Defenders down, whittling their numbers, though he half-expects to run into Koroc himself in all the madness. Given how swiftly he'd nearly put an end to Lykos, that's not an encounter he's thrilled with.

Eventually, though, he starts noticing something odd. Dead bodies that don't belong to Defenders or rebels, easy to miss if he wasn't using the dark alleys they've fallen in. It's little effort after that to pick up on the trail, to come across the signs of one that put up more of a fight than the others had. Two trails of blood and agony leading in different directions -- only one of them involving fur and distinctly inhuman tracks.

Daud's quiet as he comes into the alley, stepping carefully because he isn't sure what he'll find at the end of it. The cloak the tiefling's wearing has the trick of making him to seem to fade in and out of view as it flares around him, obscuring and revealing his form by turns, but stealth is the last thing on his mind as he approaches the wounded shiftling.

"Lurk."

He says her name, quietly, hand already on the hilt of the blade by his side.