❝ Well you leave me hanging by the skin of my teeth. I’ve only got one leg to stand, you can send me to hell, but I’ll never let go of your hand. ❞
Are you askin' to hold my hand, or bite it?
The answer is "no" either way.

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❝ Well you leave me hanging by the skin of my teeth. I’ve only got one leg to stand, you can send me to hell, but I’ll never let go of your hand. ❞
Are you askin' to hold my hand, or bite it?
The answer is "no" either way.

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❝ The world is wrong. You can’t put the past behind you. It’s buried in you; it’s turned your flesh into its own cupboard. ❞
Was with you 'til that last one.
If your flesh is a cupboard, maybe see a healer, yeah?
❝ ... and what i want to know is how do you like your blue eyed boy, Mister Death ❞
Weirdest fuckin' owl I've gotten today. An' I'm countin' the lady who thought a dark wizard cabal was hypnotizin' her cats.
So you've talked a bit about your black book, and I have a question: what do you do with the pages that contain information on people who have died?
What a stellar shitty question.
Don't you know it's my diary? I use it to record my delicate feelin's an' write love poems. Why would I keep info on dead folk in there?
[Moody will pull out his own teeth before voluntarily answering personal questions, so: it depends largely on the person in question.
For suspects he's hunted or other people who are little more than acquaintances to him, or those whose deaths might be catalysts for more information that can still be useful to him, he continues to record information on their pages as if they were still alive. Sure, on their pages are notes on their deaths-- precious little more than a cause and date if it's really irrelevant-- but for these people, their existences never meant much to him besides data in the first place, so why would their deaths signify much more?
For those who were more important-- friends or family, people whose existence meant something to him based on who they were for him-- he usually leaves the pages alone. Like the others, their deaths are recorded, but he writes nothing else; marks nothing out; refuses to rip out the page to cut down on the clutter in his little black book. Their pages become little memorials he carries around with him always.
It's not much, but he inevitably wides up flipping through the pages. He remembers; and for the dead, that's always something.]
"There's no greater cause than giving your life for a cause that is right." - Unknown
What kinda dulce et decorum flavored shite is this?
Y'know what dead folk are good for? Widows, orphans, an' feedin' the maggots. You wanna fight for some cause? Try havin' a pulse. Wild guess, but it might help.

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M, Tonight? - KS
S,
Was I just propositioned?
- M