"One hangs out on the drama shelves (one crow sorrow), but keeps the monologues to herself (two crows mirth)... Two and three are studying jewels (three a wedding, four a birth). Four reads all about the puns (five crows silver), five won't share the shiny ones (six crows gold), six and seven label molecules (seven ravens, curious and bold)..." Hidan's words carry a low, familiar cadence, the Jashinist humming the tune under his breath as he drags butchered limbs out of his room, wrapped in white cloth now turning a dark, familiar brown of drying blood. His skin was pale again, not the vantablack of his strange ritual, but even now, after it was over, there was something about his skin that seemed to imply the structure of his bones. They weren't protruding, no, but something... Something stood out, there. But that was a minor unsettling detail, compared to the cheerful whistling and calm, settled look in his eyes. At least Hidan was perfectly willing to dispose of his own waste, though the smell of blood never truly washed away from his skin.

muffled, facedown: "can i pay you to pretend that never happened?"