A tall, pale man -- pale as death, one might say -- strides in, twirling a shovel and whistling a jaunty tune. His whistling dies off when he realizes that this is very definitely not the cemetery
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"I actually don't know, but if I had to guess," Scotty says, coming in from the kitchen with a platter of cooling muffins in his hand, "I'd say 'in the ground.'" He smirks and approaches the stranger... who looks stranger than strange. (Haha.) "Can I help you?" He holds out the platter. "Muffin?"
"Ooou, well aren't you sweet!" GraveRobber grins and snags a muffin, "Oh -- hey, hot." He blows on it, looking at his new surroundings. "So. This is clearly not a cemetery. But it could be California. So what's up, have I landed myself in one of GeneCo's finer hotel establishments?" It's certainly nicer than anywhere he's stayed before. Though considering he frequents dumpsters and mausoleums, that's not saying much.
"Mmm, well, you're kind of close with California. It's an island, though I'm not entirely sure where." He pulls his platter back close to his chest, glancing down at the muffins and back up again. "Sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but whatever GeneCo is... yeah, I'm pretty sure that doesn't exist here."
"What do you mean 'whatever GeneCo is?" He nibbles at the muffin incredulously, giving Scotty a boggled look. "Top of the line surgery and organs and all that. You can't survive in the world today without knowing what GeneCo is."
... oou. Nice. GraveRobber saunters closer to Lara, eying her appreciatively. "It would be stupid to keep the dead people in the lobby. You'd trip over them." Death is a very serious matter. GraveRobber would be out of business if no one died.
He starts to say something about she should try living in dumpsters and see how she smells, then realizes that she's talking about dead people lying around and bites back his defensive comment. "Thus the shovel. I was on my way to work. Don't want to lead dead bodies lying around rotting." Especially when there are things to harvest from them.
"...What?" Warren stares at the new arrival incredulously, not entirely sure he heard what he think he heard. "What are you talking about?" Oh great, he thinks, another psycho.
"That's really my business, isn't it?" The kid looks a little on the potentially hostile side, so he adds, "I'm an undertaker. I bury dead people. But I need dead people to bury, if you're following me."
"I'd say in the ground, or the morgue, but we don't appear to have any of those. We make do with what we can," Bruce says, giving the new arrival a flat look.
"Pity, morgues are so peaceful. Good place to go and ponder life's big questions." Graverobber smirks, eying the other man curiously. "Undertaker. Need dead people to do my job."
If anyone is unimpressed with death, it's a grim reaper. George slings her arm over the back of the couch and sits up lazily, raising an eyebrow at Graverobber. Death enthusiasts, posers extraordinaire. Is there anywhere they don't show up? At least they're usually easy to discourage.
"Try my room," she says, but in her bored monotone it's anything but a pickup line.
Graverobber doesn't take the tone as a deterrent. He brushes his fingertips over George's cheek, eying her curiously. "Is that so? And what exactly do you do with the dead in your room?"
Okay. Clearly she's miscalculated. Leaning away from Graverobber's touch and fixing him with a mildly perturbed look, George considers the consequences of saying "free therapy" and decides against it. This seems like the kind of guy who'd talk your ear off and then try to stick his tongue down it.
"Paperwork," she says simply. It's boring, but it's true.
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Here's Lara Croft. She's not quite amused - death is a serious matter.
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"Not to mention the hygiene issues." Her reply is dry, but she's amused, and perhaps it shows a little in the twinkle of her eye.
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He starts to say something about she should try living in dumpsters and see how she smells, then realizes that she's talking about dead people lying around and bites back his defensive comment. "Thus the shovel. I was on my way to work. Don't want to lead dead bodies lying around rotting." Especially when there are things to harvest from them.
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"Should I ask why?"
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"Try my room," she says, but in her bored monotone it's anything but a pickup line.
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"Paperwork," she says simply. It's boring, but it's true.
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