maddest | [video]

Entry tags:

[video]

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.]

Interesting.

[Clapping his hands together, pushing himself back up and gathering the umbrella back up, along with a few small bottles.]

Now that didn't take very long.

Not at all. We should keep looking in here- food will be much more scarce, soon.

[Going to prod the rest of that bottom shelf.]

Everyone has their little physical quirks.

[Brushing a faint layer of dust from one of the bottles, glancing over the labeled spice name.]

Better to be prepared, hm?

[Slipping one of the bottles into a hidden pocket within his robe~~likething~~.]

Mmhmm, some less noticable than others.

Precisely. Especially where food is concerned.

Starvation isn't a pretty thing.

You've seen that one a few times, no doubt.

I have, mostly those of less fortunate backgrounds.

A cruel death.

[He sounds unperturbed.]

There are other deaths just as cruel, just not as slow. Though, I suppose some can feel slower.

[Pausing as the end of his umbrella taps against something, leaningg down and rolling over a bag of flour.]

Seems this was a nice place to start.

I think I was owed a little good luck.

[He admits, tracing cans with his fingertips.]

What do these labels say?

Perhaps.

[Setting the bag of flour down to collect later, taking one of the cans to see better.]

Soup, if they're the same as this one.

[Tracing along them with his fingers, holding up one that feels different.]

And this?

[Setting the other can down to take the one held up, thumb brushing across the label.]

Mixed fruit.

We should bake a pie.

We should.

Let's go, then.

[Dropping to find a sick to put cans in.]

[He gathered the cans into one place, glancing over the labels a little idily.]

Yes, yes.

I'm not strictly able to see- and that's not strictly common knowledge.

Ah, that does answer a few things.

[He hummed a little as he spoke, standing with several of those cans in the crook of an arm, held against his chest.]

It does, doesn't it?

[Loading a few more into the bag.]

But, I imagine an Undertaker would be the very soul of discretion.

[Chuckling, offer a few in his arm to be placed into the bag.]

Quite discreet, especially so when matters are to be kept underwraps.

Pouring secrets into coffins, into the ears of the dead. If I manage this, can you take the sugar and flour?

Many do take secrets only they and I know to the grave with them. I believe so.

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]

[offline]