Katja has acquired a sandwich and a giant cup of iced coffee, and Katja wants to sit outside to eat it because the shop's staff keep telling her she can't smoke inside. Keeping others' lungs clean was never in Katja's interest -- often it's exactly the opposite, really. Breathing is overrated anyway, for other people. Katja could care less.
But she's outside so she can smokesmokesmoke and not have to deal with people asking her to leave. It's nice enough out anyway, and not too warm so she isn't uncomfortable under her jacket.
Of course, the only empty seat is by that guy with the finger. While other people might not be too pleased by this, Katja probably would have plopped down at his table were there not other people around.
She plonks her sandwich down on the table, picking the finger up with the hand holding the cigarette (she's gotten quite good at holding a cigarette and doing other things at the same time) and inspecting it. Drag on the cigarette. "Huh!" she says, smoke billowing out of her mouth at that. "Pity it's rubber, though I guess a real one wouldn't be quite as good to leave out in a public place like this. Great for collecting bacteria though, not that this one's not, but all sorts of lovely things get into real flesh when it's left out long enough." She grins, and drops the finger back on the table.
Hey, any guy who's just going to have a finger lying around probably won't mind if she starts talking about rotting human flesh. Well. It doesn't really have to be rotting. But that's beside the point.
He smiles at her, open and inviting. "There are better ways to collect bacteria than cutting off someone's finger and leaving it in a public place. Surely."
There's enough of a pause between the two to make it clear that the sentence is a fact, not a question. "You sound like a fan of bacteria."
His eyes go back to the paper. Nothing unusual here.
The smile's all the invitation she needs to plop down in the chair in front of him. Not that she wasn't going to do that anyway, given the finger. She pokes at it a bit, then unwraps her sandwich. "That depends on what, exactly, you're looking to get and where you leave the finger. Though really, fingers aren't the best way to go about it; better to just leave a hunk of meat out for awhile."
She takes another drag on the cigarette, and gives him a rather wolfish grin. "Not so much a fan of as I make the plagues, O одно кто бродяжничает , out of whatever I can get my hands on. What I can't, well, you'd be surprised what a little bit of elbow grease and a helluva lot of sleepless nights in a lab will get you, even if by the end of it you're just dumping that vial into this beaker and hoping the resultant reaction won't blow up the entire place. Least of all because you've just spent five days inthe same damn pair of pants and managed to spill ramen on them the night before but you don't have any damn time to run home and get a second pair." Not that that actually happened. Nope. Though it did yield a pretty awesome mutated gene. And made the lab smell absolutely noxious for a week, despite the best efforts of the cleaning crew and plenty of ventilation.
She pauses only momentarily to take a drag on her cigarette, even though the sandwich is totally unwrapped by now, and she's taken the thing apart to inspect every ingredient in it before she eats it. "Granted, I'll make the cures, too, but they're more of an afterthought."
It's a good thing Katja either comes off as scary or absolutely insane (or both) to most people, because she's never very careful about who she talks to about these things. Usually it's because if they try to do anything about it, she'll kill them. With any number of the things in her purse.
But she's outside so she can smokesmokesmoke and not have to deal with people asking her to leave. It's nice enough out anyway, and not too warm so she isn't uncomfortable under her jacket.
Of course, the only empty seat is by that guy with the finger. While other people might not be too pleased by this, Katja probably would have plopped down at his table were there not other people around.
She plonks her sandwich down on the table, picking the finger up with the hand holding the cigarette (she's gotten quite good at holding a cigarette and doing other things at the same time) and inspecting it. Drag on the cigarette. "Huh!" she says, smoke billowing out of her mouth at that. "Pity it's rubber, though I guess a real one wouldn't be quite as good to leave out in a public place like this. Great for collecting bacteria though, not that this one's not, but all sorts of lovely things get into real flesh when it's left out long enough." She grins, and drops the finger back on the table.
Hey, any guy who's just going to have a finger lying around probably won't mind if she starts talking about rotting human flesh. Well. It doesn't really have to be rotting. But that's beside the point.
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There's enough of a pause between the two to make it clear that the sentence is a fact, not a question. "You sound like a fan of bacteria."
His eyes go back to the paper. Nothing unusual here.
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She takes another drag on the cigarette, and gives him a rather wolfish grin. "Not so much a fan of as I make the plagues, O одно кто бродяжничает , out of whatever I can get my hands on. What I can't, well, you'd be surprised what a little bit of elbow grease and a helluva lot of sleepless nights in a lab will get you, even if by the end of it you're just dumping that vial into this beaker and hoping the resultant reaction won't blow up the entire place. Least of all because you've just spent five days inthe same damn pair of pants and managed to spill ramen on them the night before but you don't have any damn time to run home and get a second pair." Not that that actually happened. Nope. Though it did yield a pretty awesome mutated gene. And made the lab smell absolutely noxious for a week, despite the best efforts of the cleaning crew and plenty of ventilation.
She pauses only momentarily to take a drag on her cigarette, even though the sandwich is totally unwrapped by now, and she's taken the thing apart to inspect every ingredient in it before she eats it. "Granted, I'll make the cures, too, but they're more of an afterthought."
It's a good thing Katja either comes off as scary or absolutely insane (or both) to most people, because she's never very careful about who she talks to about these things. Usually it's because if they try to do anything about it, she'll kill them. With any number of the things in her purse.
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