Go take that piss.
From Create Your Own Story
The scene before you is familiar. You’ve seen this before. Maybe tens of times. Mayyyybe a hundred. You don’t really count. Know you never should.
“Bloodbath,” you laugh. It’s pretty funny seeing as she- The woman. IT. It’s in the bathtub, fairly intact. Your signatures are all there: the bruising around the neck, the markedly dysfunctional angle it’s at. The tile’s slick with a film of fluids and you make your way over by the tub and toilet gingerly. Some gun, probably Thane’s lays in the sink. Not that you were going to wash your hands anyway.
“Gotta piss.”
Once you get a good stream going, you turn your attention away from the body to count the stains on the ceiling. Whistling helps too. I guess that fills in some blanks. Nothing new up there as far as bloodstains go. Must’ve been a quickie.
You shake, zip up. Pull off your shirt and lean forward over the bath, against the body. The cassolette, the scent of her, isn’t ripe so you linger. You see the hours behind you, the stalking, the courting, the love of the moment and the fingers winding into a throat.
You touch her.
Withdraw. This feels wrong today. You need to get out there and earn some money.
