The Vor is doing quite well, actually, having been industriously doing exactly the job Dragox wanted it to do, the whole time. Dragox may have noticed the dwindling amount of rats as he moved boxes about; rodents that fled from one place to another eventually found their way into a hungry maw all too glad to snatch them up.<br/><br/>Its belly shows no sign of distension from its predation, though. Its long stomach accomodated the bulk of many rats well, a bulk which was already well on its way down the rest of the thing's digestive system. A reason they were hungry so much had to do with their fast metabolisms. They're literal eating machines.<br/><br/>The lights in the warehouse flicker. The Vor looks up and tilts its head, skitter-slithering along the dirty concrete floor. It noses about, looking for more sign of rats  ... which there don't seem to be many more. The Vor clambers up a low shelf and moves quietly along it, looking to Dragox who walks by in search of it. It pokes its head out to peer at him -- or, more specifically, peer at his limping.<br/><br/>The Vor chirrs? curiously.