[Echo-echo. He keeps his words markedly clipped, every silence an indicator of things he's not saying.
The next bag: things in cans, and a fresh butcher's wrapped pack of fillet steak, blood just soaking the edges of the paper. He drops it near her, picking up an armload of the cans for packing onto those empty shelves.]
☏ courtesies that i disguise in me
Of course.
[Echo-echo. He keeps his words markedly clipped, every silence an indicator of things he's not saying.
The next bag: things in cans, and a fresh butcher's wrapped pack of fillet steak, blood just soaking the edges of the paper. He drops it near her, picking up an armload of the cans for packing onto those empty shelves.]