catch-all: white.

[toesies]

jan please recommend a shitpost

Comments

[enfangs]

Wh—?

[WELL THAT SURE IS AN ARM SHOVED IN HIS FACE]

... I don't smell anything.

[toesies]

Oh, thank god.

[IMMEDIATE RELIEF]

[enfangs]

... All right, so go back. It was raining shrimp?

[toesies]

Yes. Medb, Lenore and I took a walk around the city, and suddenly— [She shudders.] Cocktail shrimp started descending from the heavens like the punchline of a shitty joke!

[enfangs]

W... Why shrimp...

[toesies]

Apparently, Eleanor liked them...?

[enfangs]

... Huh. Don't see why we'd need a hint that pointed to the victim's identity when we already know that, though...

[toesies]

Right? Though, I was thinking... What if she was lured into a trap with her favorite food?

[enfangs]

... Would that work?

[toesies]

[... She pauses, thinking, and then shrugs.]

I didn't know her that well.

[enfangs]

Neither did I...

[toesies]

[She sighs, frowning.]

Then I guess that's a question for someone else...

[enfangs]

Yeah. Though, uh, I think the house is on fire. So I guess she was running around the fifth floor, maybe?

[toesies]

[... She closes her eyes.]

Why the fuck was she on the fifth floor?

[enfangs]

No idea! Maybe to hide?

[toesies]

She was with me last night, though. In the conference room. Running all the way to the fifth floor seems like... a choice.

[enfangs]

Well, there's a lot of spacious areas there. Maybe she was hoping to lose 'em.

[toesies]

I guess...? You're really set on this theory, huh.

[enfangs]

Listen, I got no idea. How am I supposed to know what was running through her head?

[toesies]

Then can we agree that hopping on the elevator is a choice?

[enfangs]

Someone maybe wrote a dying message about bread. There have been a lot of... choices.

[toesies]

Don't talk to me about the croissants.

[enfangs]

All right, pretend I said nothing.

[toesies]

I will. Thank you for being so considerate of my bread trauma.

[enfangs]

[their bread trauma...]

That's me, Mr. Considerate.