Mari's ineptitude at comfort is pretty well documented. She doesn't go for platitudes, and she uses her upbeat persona to cover for being extremely emotionally unavailable. And there are few crimes Mari considers significant enough to merit temper.

But.

"His name...?" Mari squints at Tyki with the relevant eyes. But she doesn't want to leave this situation where it is any longer than she possibly has to. His name... his name...

Is that why--

Oh, now she's mad.

Without asking anyone, she thrusts her monstrous paws under the skeleton's prone form and scoops him up like a large, extremely lumpy baby and stands up--suction cupped tail wrapped tight around her arm, one of her smaller hands hanging onto the tentacle's tip firmly.

"Someone with a radio," she orders the other two sharply--forgetting, possibly, that she's not in charge around here any more. But her eyes narrow down at her bony bundle. All of them.

"These yahoos are right--that shithead's got it coming. And we're getting you back if I have to rip the magic out of him myself."

Then, before anyone can interrupt her, "Let's go. I'm getting him out of here."