synanthrope | (no subject)

(no subject)

I can't find anything.

I can't find anything and I need to find things.

Everything has been moved.

Everything has been moved and I need to find things.

Everything has been moved and pieces are missed.

Pieces are missing.

Why is everything out of its place?

[ooc: Does anyone want to find a body part? There won't be evidence of who it belongs to or that it comes from Saya's collection but it might shock a character into feeling fear or horror or maybe just feel grossed out. (What color is that?) Anyway, two body parts are missing from Saya's collection so drop a line here or via email if you wanna find something and I'll put up when they're claimed. Otherwise it's just tools and bolts and pieces of mechanic stuff that's been reshuffled in the garage and warehouse.]

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It appears to be the remains of a jaw. I'm assuming it isn't yours, however.

A human jaw?

[Pause]

Of course it isn't mine. [Not a lie. Her jaw is on her face.] Where did you find it?

So it seems.

At the bottom of the recycling bin.

[There's a pause]

Were there any other bones?

Just the one. Who else has access to your bin?

I share the recycling bin with the locksmith next door. I think the man who runs the kebab cart uses it from time to time.

What do you want to do with it?

His kebabs are unnaturally good.

Don't know. Suppose I was going to turn it to the police or something of the sort. Give them something to do.

I think he knows you feel that way.

[There's nothing to link her to it, but it is part of her collection, it's hers, and she wants it back]

I can take it over there once I finish cleaning things.

[She can always give them another jawbone. One that isn't perfect. One that isn't hers]

I'll weasel my way into his greasy heart, one of these days.

[ There's a light pause. ] Mm, I'd rather do it on my own time. I've been meaning to show good face, after all.

If you prefer, Eames.

[It's said in her usual tone, soft and smoothly. She's not going to steal it, but this is going to bother her on a level she can't really understand.]

You're not worried that eating all those kebabs will make you fat?

Fat? Miss Saya, I fully expect to be obese and happy by the time I'm fifty. Not enough skiing in these parts to wittle it all down.

You'll have a heart attack.

A heart attack of gluttonous happiness.

Well, that's your choice. I'm told it's not the worst way to die.

Being pulled apart, I think that's the worst.

Really?

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