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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...Okay, that wasn't fun at all, but it was factual!
That said, while whomever did this does have the basic knowledge of how hangings seem to work, the knot is not configured in any sort of way that would have resulted in a C2 break, clean or otherwise.]
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Could that noose really have broken his neck? I'm no coroner, but that doesn't look right.
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[She moves the rope carefully; time to look at the neck.] But it is broken.
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Susan sets the rope aside, turning his head to try and give it a more...natural tilt. Anything else to look at here?]
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