[At the far end of the large table, there's a ceramic bowl filed with miscellaneous junk. A place to throw keys, rubber bands, toothpicks, receipts, whatever else. She leans forward to pull it towards herself, sorting through for a pair of kitchen shears which are summarily taken to that piece of steak to hack it down into approximately (large) bite-sized pieces.]
Of course I'm not.
[She was Barbet's unwanted burden, his regret, his responsibility to be suffered until the end. An end he'd insisted had to be on his terms and not her own. She puts the scissors down irritably. She was the undead wretch with no claim to anything in life, let alone one of her own. She had been convenient to Blonde, a place to live and a place to lay low, company in bed and a confidant with more secrets than he had. She misses him. She's tired of it. That was why she had left Chase and his prying to black it all out instead; the latter was far more convenient to her. Cheap and easy, and ultimately unsatisfying. She picks up one of the pieces she's cubed, presses into her mouth without any particular relish.]
☏ courtesies that i disguise in me
Of course I'm not.
[She was Barbet's unwanted burden, his regret, his responsibility to be suffered until the end. An end he'd insisted had to be on his terms and not her own. She puts the scissors down irritably. She was the undead wretch with no claim to anything in life, let alone one of her own. She had been convenient to Blonde, a place to live and a place to lay low, company in bed and a confidant with more secrets than he had. She misses him. She's tired of it. That was why she had left Chase and his prying to black it all out instead; the latter was far more convenient to her. Cheap and easy, and ultimately unsatisfying. She picks up one of the pieces she's cubed, presses into her mouth without any particular relish.]