That sounds like the perfect plan. I shall go home to get whatever I will need to follow along, as well as take notes. I shall meet you there rather soon, and no worries. This wig and such is usually a way to ward off the world, in a sense. People look at me and then look away, just as I prefer it. I am, however, curious to see how that works with music though.
If you insist, then I will not force the money upon you. Thus far, it is a pleasure to meet you, Kane.
An hour and fifteen minutes later had Kane in the most mentally serene place he could conjure - the morgue. With his wrists deep in the chest cavity of his first project, he all but ignored the dulcet tones of Britney Spears singing about being a teenage whore...or whatever it was that came out of her mouth. His tie was thrown over his shoulder, the white lab coat's sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the blue latex gloves stained sufficiently with blood and other various bodily fluids. Atop his desk sat the manila folder with all of his diagrams, his hobby...
He never thought he would see the day where he would share anything personal of his with anyone. The diagrams were not his work -- they were his sheer enjoyment, what he spent much of his time doing when he was not at work. The detail poured into them was easily rivaling that of the better scholarly texts. He was proud of these things, slightly apprehensive to have taken them down from his walls and packed them away. It was no secret that he was not fond of other people but...the opportunity to teach someone in the skills that he set his entire life to mastering...it was wonderful.
His mind was not on his surroundings, his eyes trained on the hole he had created in the chest cavity, where his fingers were rooting.
