maddest | [video]

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[Break is sitting on his windowsill, blissfully unaware of the fact that the PCD has turned on where it's sitting on his desk. He reaches one of his legs out, barefoot, stretching so it makes it past the shelter of the awning and out into the raindrops falling outside.

Amusing himself like this for a few seconds longer, he keeps a tight hold on the frame for balance.

The whirr of the PCD eventually alters him to the fact that it's running. He glances over his shoulder sharply.]

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Do you help people into these lovely coffins of yours? Or strictly deal with the consequences?

I deal with the consequences. Why, not long ago there had been a wave of murders, women of the night mostly. Something was missing from each of my dear guests.

What is it that you do?

I find people who meddle with things from beyond this world. I find the monsters they drag up from the wicked, dark places.

And then I take care of situations.

Oh my, that sounds thrilling. [And a tad familiar.]

Well, it passes the time.

I'm a little out of my element here, I'll confess, making friends with some of the nasties rather than merrily erasing them.

I suppose that would put someone a little out of sorts.

It's odd to go into each day knowing I'll have no work to do, and that I may have to be a tad more social than normal.

What was so satisfying about it? The work.

Various things. Studying each wound, looking over every little detail, the stories told by each guest. I take great pride in preparing them for their final party.

The details of it.

The memories in skin.

More is left behind on, and within, the body than some expect.

Like what?

[Opening the door to the first shop he comes upon.]

Oh, telling what angle a slice was made. If the person holding the weapon was practiced in their killings, or not.

[A heel scuffing on the ground, catching the door in an offer to allow the other man to enter first.]

It also gives away if the person was careless in their actions.

[He hears, and enters ahead of him again, nodding thoughtfully.]

I can see how that would be. What else can you know?

[He let the door close behind him, following.]

What other sorts of trauma they went through, and what it was exactly that killed them. My, there's more to learn once a body is open. Sometimes lacerations are just for show, or accidental when a body is moved.

But insides can tell a much older story.

That they can. [Picking a container up from an old shelf, giving it a little testing shake.] Years of health declining over time, sudden natural deaths..

But you had no inclination to become a doctor?

[Poking around a bottom shelf with his cane.]

Hm..

[The end of his umbrella tapped against the floor idily, after swinging it down, letting the container he had picked up roll along the shelf it had been on as he walked a little further.]

Per~haps it had crossed my mind, so many years ago, perhaps it hadn't. I do collect certain organs for study.

I had mine transplanted, you know. Here. Quite recently.

[Cane connecting with something soft, he stoops to feel the bag- barley, by the smell of it. He hefts it all the same to go set by the door. Food is food, in Adstringendum's winters.]

I can't imagine a transplant here would go very well.. My, the body isn't very accepting of things foreign to it.

[Stooped down, looking over a few smaller cans and reading labels still there, umbrella rested on the floor within reach.]

Organs, in particular I've seen, can be fussy. Even in the body they formed in.

It's true. They had to dig out whole sections of intestine. Simply didn't take- but the rest did, luckily.

How very lucky. Have you had any problems with some of your intestines missing?

Oh, no, they were very little parts of them- and apparently humans have quite a lot.

So I've seen. [He's been elbow deep inside of a good many bodies.]

So, there you are! I'm short a few.

[Rooting through another bag, pausing to lick his fingers.]

Got some!

[Fine, white sugar.]

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