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First.
Most of the week has come and gone in relative peace; it's an uneasy peace, but the fact is that it exists, and sometimes that's the most one can ask for. Friday dawns like the rest of the week before it – the clock chimes the hour at seven, the doors to the kitchen and the mail room unlock and swing partially ajar of their own volition, and the building is quiet. Perhaps this week has passed relatively painlessly, and no one's decided to find out what your captor means by that last rule of his; perhaps the communal lifestyle has remained undisturbed, whether due to the lack of threat to everyone's well-being from any sort of outside source or just because no one sees a reason to push their luck. Or perhaps somebody decided to be a damn overachiever and take some initiative. Only one way to find out, isn't there? >Explore? |
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[ And how they did it, too, because there's no way hanging from the chandelier can be the goddamn cause of death, can it..? That's just not feasible. ]
We're dealing with a sick fuck, here. Killing him and making a goddamn show out of it...
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Y- th-there's a murderer a- sick, horrible- oh nononono, ohhh. [Deep breath come the fuck on.] I knew this would happen, I- oh. Okay. Okay, ohhh.
[She's trying not to...get in the way right now anymore.]
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[ Ken was a wimp. He didn't deserve this, though. ]
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[ Asuka may not show it on her face, affixed in that permanent scowl, but...she needs to get the fuck out of here, too. The longer she sees his body hanging up, strung from the chandelier, the more she sees...
She doesn't want to think about it. She turns and leaves, disgusted, feeling disgusting... ]
Let's go.