I look at the package. With the... skull. I re-read the letter. I try to make it make sense.
What?
Look at the letter. Look at the s... the skull. Put the skull down because that's just fucked up.
It still makes no sense. What?
This package was forwarded to me - from the hotel I'd been staying in before I came to Gustav's house. So it's here. Waiting for me. From Klaus Helsing. Apparently he sent this before he left for his vacation. Which I honestly hope, because if he was carting this skull with him and THEN shipped it to me, that's even crazier.
Much crazier. Speaking of crazy...
I look at the skull. I look at the letter. I read the letter out loud. It still doesn't make sense.
You know what? This is a joke. This is a bad, bad joke. Lucard - or maybe just Klaus - thinks he's being funny.
I feel a little angry, suddenly, in the wake of this weirdness. It is NOT funny to send rat skulls to people.
Do I crush it? Ugh; no. I won't even throw it away. Using the letter, I pick it up gingerly and put it BACK in the box, closing the thing back up. Looking for tape to keep it shut.
Gustav is going to see this later. Not tonight; later. Or maybe nobody will.
Joke or no... I can't help having a baaaad feeling about this.
In the morning, I take a look at it again. In the light of day, after a good night's sleep and a chance to recover from yesterday's emotional mess, I can be more objective. Fortunately.
First, the letter.
Just looking at the letter - just what it says, nothing more - I can honestly say that, if I did not know from whom it came, I would assume that this man had taken the kind of interest in me that is actually flattering. Not as a pretty piece of ass, but actually ME. That's a good thing. A rare thing. Looking at the letter - just the words of the letter - he did everything right.
And then, we have The Skull.
It's a rat skull, I think. I saw enough of them in Mexico. And now, during the day, I can look at it without thinking in a juvenile way that the thing's going to come to life and bite me.
Just an ordinary skull. No weirdo markings, no arcane smells. In fact, for all the world, it smells a bit like it's been kept in a sacheted clothing drawer.
...which is kinda creepy in and of itself.
The letter and the skull don't match. Not just looking at them objectively. What kind of a weirdo keeps a rat skull for thirty years next to the sachet with his undies? A CHILD might keep something like a skull; but a MAN sent this letter.
Then we have the confusion of the man who sent it in the first place.
Klaus Helsing. Son of Gustav; apparent protege and who knows what else of Alexander Lucard. Vicious killer - naturally, he's a vampire. Not one of Sophie's favorite people, no matter how many knight portraits she paints him into.
And... with a weird sense of humor? Maybe?
No, damnit, it still makes no SENSE. Even if he WERE interested in me - which he wouldn't be, because that's absolutely silly - why would he do this? Vampires just TAKE what they want. They don't woo. Okay, sometimes they woo. But not like this, this is normal wooing.
No, the LETTER is normal wooing. The Skull is just INSANE.
You know what? Maybe I need to chill out a little bit more before I look at these things again. Wrapping them back up, I tuck the package beside the sofa and consider the matter closed for now.
I look at the package. With the... skull. I re-read the letter. I try to make it make sense.
What?
Look at the letter. Look at the s... the skull. Put the skull down because that's just fucked up.
It still makes no sense. What?
This package was forwarded to me - from the hotel I'd been staying in before I came to Gustav's house. So it's here. Waiting for me. From Klaus Helsing. Apparently he sent this before he left for his vacation. Which I honestly hope, because if he was carting this skull with him and THEN shipped it to me, that's even crazier.
Much crazier. Speaking of crazy...
I look at the skull. I look at the letter. I read the letter out loud. It still doesn't make sense.
You know what? This is a joke. This is a bad, bad joke. Lucard - or maybe just Klaus - thinks he's being funny.
I feel a little angry, suddenly, in the wake of this weirdness. It is NOT funny to send rat skulls to people.
Do I crush it? Ugh; no. I won't even throw it away. Using the letter, I pick it up gingerly and put it BACK in the box, closing the thing back up. Looking for tape to keep it shut.
Gustav is going to see this later. Not tonight; later. Or maybe nobody will.
Joke or no... I can't help having a baaaad feeling about this.
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First, the letter.
Just looking at the letter - just what it says, nothing more - I can honestly say that, if I did not know from whom it came, I would assume that this man had taken the kind of interest in me that is actually flattering. Not as a pretty piece of ass, but actually ME. That's a good thing. A rare thing. Looking at the letter - just the words of the letter - he did everything right.
And then, we have The Skull.
It's a rat skull, I think. I saw enough of them in Mexico. And now, during the day, I can look at it without thinking in a juvenile way that the thing's going to come to life and bite me.
Just an ordinary skull. No weirdo markings, no arcane smells. In fact, for all the world, it smells a bit like it's been kept in a sacheted clothing drawer.
...which is kinda creepy in and of itself.
The letter and the skull don't match. Not just looking at them objectively. What kind of a weirdo keeps a rat skull for thirty years next to the sachet with his undies? A CHILD might keep something like a skull; but a MAN sent this letter.
Then we have the confusion of the man who sent it in the first place.
Klaus Helsing. Son of Gustav; apparent protege and who knows what else of Alexander Lucard. Vicious killer - naturally, he's a vampire. Not one of Sophie's favorite people, no matter how many knight portraits she paints him into.
And... with a weird sense of humor? Maybe?
No, damnit, it still makes no SENSE. Even if he WERE interested in me - which he wouldn't be, because that's absolutely silly - why would he do this? Vampires just TAKE what they want. They don't woo. Okay, sometimes they woo. But not like this, this is normal wooing.
No, the LETTER is normal wooing. The Skull is just INSANE.
You know what? Maybe I need to chill out a little bit more before I look at these things again. Wrapping them back up, I tuck the package beside the sofa and consider the matter closed for now.
It's time to think about something else.
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