Methos, newly returned from his mall trip, heads into the armory to see about honing his blade. They'll be heading out soon, and there's no telling what they'll run into.
He whistles low when he sees the katanas. "Amazing quality. Tell me there's more where these came from."
Krauser looks up from where he's currently sitting against the wall (later, he'll move outside for better lighting,) and blinks. "These don't seem familiar to you?" He rotates a blade helpfully, lifting his fingers away from the tsuba and tipping it so that the hilt is more visible. "I understand you almost got a very good look at them. You weren't that pleased with them then."
"Yes." Krauser brings it back in. His grip on the sword is too. . . casual to be that of a true swordsman, one who knows the value of the weapon. He seems to have a sense of that 'handle as an extension of the arm' thing, however. "I could make a mobile out of them for her, I suppose, but that's about it."
"We didn't. These were passed along." It's not looting when it's done for the sake of the community! "And. . . about two hours ago. I'm surprised you haven't heard."
"Miho died. Two hours ago. Murdered--unless she launched an attack on whoever did her in. Run through once with an object, dropped in acid after that. It's not likely she was aware for it." Krauser's one of the resident experts on how fast people die after you stab them with things.
Someone moves by the door. Just one person, carefully carrying a freshly cleaned and polished sword. A fighter, from his graceful movements and heavily muscled build. He has a somewhat worn look to him.
He puts the sword down on a table and picks up some strips of leather and a needle instead. Then he pauses, head tilted as though he's caught a scent. He doesn't turn.
"...We have to fight with swords?" It's said with an almost petulant whine. Give him a gun. Or for that matter a virus in his hands. He'd be much happier.
Birkin makes his way in further-grimacing in distaste. Weapons were Albert's forte.
Krauser glances over. Injury. Hm. Miho just got killed, and now someone's walking in smelling like blood--he catches himself before he thinks about that. He's getting much better at controlling even the hints of the plaga's hunger.
This man doesn't strike him as a fighter.
"No. We have a pistol you can use, if you're any good with those. Or a bow, and the training to use it. Or you could stay inside and not fight at all, but I don't see that working too well, long-term."
When she starts trying to narrow down who was closest, it pays to remember: Krauser would probably do the same thing. Dead's dead.
This is doubtless before he meets Birkin, because he looks over with what would have been a smile if they both had been in a better mood. The sword is almost clean now, and is left carefully on the table.
"Come on. Although I didn't--I found her drying. The new guy found her and pulled her body out of the acid." He starts leading the way. "Priest. From my world, speaks this language, black robes, brown hair, not very loud. Armed. Seemed to think himself capable enough to come see what the fuss was about instead of hiding."
To Krauser, this doesn't mean he necessarily could have handled whatever it was. Damned random people trying to be heroes.
She returns the not-quite smile herself, and waits for him to lead the way, filing the description of the priest. Not that she'd necessarily know a priest from that world.
"Heard, yeah. Sounds of a struggle. He said it was only her, when he got there. It didn't take me long to show up."
Krauser is Helping the Police with their Investigations. Not that he's not going to quietly swing around and check Methos' alibi as soon as he gets a chance. Unless the man was out for quite literally the whole day, it would be hard to be sure the time frames meshed. He didn't have a watch when he found the body. He doubted Percival had one. Making sure the time frames meshed was going to be fun.
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He whistles low when he sees the katanas. "Amazing quality. Tell me there's more where these came from."
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"These aren't Miho's, are they? Girl's not that green as to let them outta her sight."
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"Hey. When did we update?" Pause. "Or downgrade. Or branch out. Or whatever it is when we get weapons that don't fire bullets."
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No friends, no Umbrella protection.
The door to the armory gets a glance, a glance worthy of further exploration.
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He puts the sword down on a table and picks up some strips of leather and a needle instead. Then he pauses, head tilted as though he's caught a scent. He doesn't turn.
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"...We have to fight with swords?" It's said with an almost petulant whine. Give him a gun. Or for that matter a virus in his hands. He'd be much happier.
Birkin makes his way in further-grimacing in distaste. Weapons were Albert's forte.
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This man doesn't strike him as a fighter.
"No. We have a pistol you can use, if you're any good with those. Or a bow, and the training to use it. Or you could stay inside and not fight at all, but I don't see that working too well, long-term."
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That'd be Angua. Who, by the way, would have eaten the evidence if it was her.
"What does the new guy look like? I'd like to talk to him too."
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This is doubtless before he meets Birkin, because he looks over with what would have been a smile if they both had been in a better mood. The sword is almost clean now, and is left carefully on the table.
"Come on. Although I didn't--I found her drying. The new guy found her and pulled her body out of the acid." He starts leading the way. "Priest. From my world, speaks this language, black robes, brown hair, not very loud. Armed. Seemed to think himself capable enough to come see what the fuss was about instead of hiding."
To Krauser, this doesn't mean he necessarily could have handled whatever it was. Damned random people trying to be heroes.
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"Did he say if he heard or saw anything?"
She'll check the story with the priest later.
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Krauser is Helping the Police with their Investigations. Not that he's not going to quietly swing around and check Methos' alibi as soon as he gets a chance. Unless the man was out for quite literally the whole day, it would be hard to be sure the time frames meshed. He didn't have a watch when he found the body. He doubted Percival had one. Making sure the time frames meshed was going to be fun.
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