#thatnecrobeau

          “ICH VERTRAUE DARAUF, dass du den Körper versteckst.” Words are soft spoken through the exhale of cigarette smoke, curling upwards towards the ceiling. Kubrick taps the ash of his cig into the tray beside him, German accent heavy on the tongue. “I hope you hid the body well, mein lieber. Forgive my paranoia, but with that young woman who nearly escaped last month...” He trails off, frown tugging at his brow, causing his lips to twitch in distaste. “This is a dangerous game we play, you and I. I know we are not as foolish nor stupid as the likes of Halcyon, we are profiting from our deeds. But still I worry.” For a prison sentence without his partner in crime is surely, without a doubt, the most closest form of personal hell this earth has to offer. “Sometimes I think we should leave America. Go elsewhere. Europe, perhaps. A part of me thinks we would not be .... bothered there.”

              ⊰✙∬  “Let me guess, you wish to know how I got in here. Correct?” that was the first question she heard from the living every time she randomly invaded their privacy.

              VERY CAREFULLY DOES SHE pluck his hand from his side, guide his arm upwards towards the slim marble pillar that is her neck. Not once does her gaze break from his --- in all her years as MOTHER DEITY of murder and death, bloodshed and assassination, never has she felt so deeply, so surely of someone’s capability, of their rage. He is a killer, yes. But he is also capable of being much more than that. “Do you trust me, Beau?” Her words leave lips overly soft, smothered in velvet. But there’s a twinge of seriousness sewn into the edge of her tone, eyes roaming the necrophiliac’s features. “What I am about to ask you may be no means easy....” Dainty fingers make to close his HARD GRASP ‘round her throat, eyes half-lidded. “But I trust you.”