"Okay. For the purposes of the investigation, I shall name him 'Smooshy McSplatterface'. He was a creepy man, who tragically died in a boating incident off the coat of Antigua." I say, while disposing of the bullet casing.
"Yeah. Though, to be fair, crime can pay a lot. Like, stupid amounts of money. Scarface didn't get that mansion by working honestly."
I turn to Salt and shrug. "Why not. Not like we're investigating a crime."
As the prostitutes walk through the fire escape, they disintegrate into finely sliced bloody chunks, due to the monomecular-wire razor mesh I left over the door.
"...oops."
I appear behind Trilby and highfive him.
"Yo, Im back. Sorry, had to sort some shit out. What did I miss?"
I look at Salts comment.
"WaitTrilby are you a girl now?"
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