The supposed person didn't move faster or slower, but since he was maintaining a steady pace and Germaine an accelerated one, she at least gained enough distance on them to see that the kid didn't just seem hurt. Gender-ambiguous naturally and even more so due to the lack of overall physical development, they appear to be of around six years of age, even though their jaw hangs loose and their distorted mouth is frothing by the edges. Most of their hair has been torn from their scalp, but the remaining bits showcase a reddish brown. The young man--or so he seemed--didn't seem to care (or didn't consider) for shielding the neck, causing the child's head to swing limply from one side to the other at angles it shouldn't be able to reach. The rest of their body was beyond description. Also, their eyes were gouged out.
"No, it's dead," the answer came, seemingly confirming what the kid's overall state seemed to imply, even though they were addressed as if a simple animal. The young man continued on, paying Germaine no further heed.

That only initiates a series of quiet chuckling, but the man is still ignoring her. Probably he's thinking something along the lines of 'Says you and what authority to say so?'

She stopped, so she doesn't get a good long look except for the fact that his hair isn't black as it seems.
"I wonder," came the answer that literally answered nothing.

"What does it look like, lady? It died," he said, almost as if with absolutely no regard to how much she seemed concerned.

"Hmm, maybe they did." He still seems unconcerned as he walks past her, not really looking at Germaine. "Or maybe they just messed around with the body."
Well, at least now she gets a better view of his face--three quarters of it, at least--and the hair, which turns out to be a dark smoky sort of gray with a bit of violet thrown into it like impending violence in an upcoming street brawl. His stringy hair covers his left eye, but his right eye is a sort of dark but alarming reddish orange.
Well, someone didn't bother to try to blend in with mortals.
Otherwise, what can be seen of his face is rather normal. Unhealthily pale skin. Features that would have been handsome, if not at least pleasant, if they had been taken care of. His cloak flutters past her as he attempts to continue on his way.

She just misses him, possibly catching his cloak but, since there are no catchable parts to the cloak, it merely falls past her hand.
"Think. Thought. Done." He continues on.

"Hmm? So you would be unbothered if it were an adult?" he asked, switching his grip on the body to his left hand and making some kind of snapping sound emanate from somewhere between the neck and head.

"Well, you couldn't attain permissions to bury it anyways." For the first time, he slightly speeds up, though it's actually mostly out of glee for the clunking sound that the child's skull makes with the acceleration. 

Actually, you can't illegally bury a dead body. And he knows it, but he just says, "Well, that makes two, then."

Returning the favor, he said, "Mortal fools don't deserve to play around with dead bodies."

"Oh?" A slight smile on his part. "Why even bother to try to 'blend in' to the smoothie of blood that is mortal society? Bon appétit."

Honestly, he really didn't care for her concerns or her question. But he did enjoy ignoring her and making the skull go clickity clack on the sidewalk.

A grin. "Who said I don't know where I'm headed?"

The grin didn't diminish. "Oh really."
Well, it's pretty obvious he's not a cooperative person. Or whatever he is.