OH THIS IS A GREAT LOG TO POST WHEN I'M ILL
Who: Sasori and Zetsu
Where: Sasori's shop // back room
When: Sometime after Sasori texts Zetsu and closes up shop
Warnings: Ahaa~ do you really want the answer to this? Okay... death, death, death, probably cannibalism (at least mentioned) and embalming tech.
Open?: No-- would you want to join it? XD
The day ended early for Sasori today- his shutters down as the first trickle of people who weren't employed decided to start heading to wherever they lived. The day hadn't been particularly busy (it never was- the fools didn't care for art, and Sasori didn't care to try and sell them it if they didn't understand) and the few things he sold were money enough. Retiring to his back room, where the only other door onto the streets of Tokyo was, Sasori counted off everything in his head. Valuable items to the back, cheaper to the front.
The body had been lying there for at least three days. He switched the lights on and glanced at the table. There was no smell of decomposition- there was no decomposition to tell of- since the preservers had ran through the man's body and turned him into a perfect specimen of what to absolutely not be. The redhead's lip curled into a quick sneer as he looked at the man. He was a walking timebomb. If Sasori's poisons hadn't killed him (the flat invitation for some tea was so much more than that) the several things he was killing himself with would have.
There were so many idiots in Tokyo nowadays. (And he sounded old, even to himself.) He had no use for this man any more, and Zetsu was the only person who would remove such things with discresion.
Where: Sasori's shop // back room
When: Sometime after Sasori texts Zetsu and closes up shop
Warnings: Ahaa~ do you really want the answer to this? Okay... death, death, death, probably cannibalism (at least mentioned) and embalming tech.
Open?: No-- would you want to join it? XD
The day ended early for Sasori today- his shutters down as the first trickle of people who weren't employed decided to start heading to wherever they lived. The day hadn't been particularly busy (it never was- the fools didn't care for art, and Sasori didn't care to try and sell them it if they didn't understand) and the few things he sold were money enough. Retiring to his back room, where the only other door onto the streets of Tokyo was, Sasori counted off everything in his head. Valuable items to the back, cheaper to the front.
The body had been lying there for at least three days. He switched the lights on and glanced at the table. There was no smell of decomposition- there was no decomposition to tell of- since the preservers had ran through the man's body and turned him into a perfect specimen of what to absolutely not be. The redhead's lip curled into a quick sneer as he looked at the man. He was a walking timebomb. If Sasori's poisons hadn't killed him (the flat invitation for some tea was so much more than that) the several things he was killing himself with would have.
There were so many idiots in Tokyo nowadays. (And he sounded old, even to himself.) He had no use for this man any more, and Zetsu was the only person who would remove such things with discresion.