" Good. Then we ain't got a motherfuckin' problem. "
> You smirk, and lean in again to run your tongue over the stitched lips, your purr only deepening. Weird feeling, but nothing you weren't expecting, and you're not sure if you're proud of your foreknowledge, or just confused. You'll settle for a mix of both. When in doubt, right?
> Release him, though there's a sort of hesitation to do so, because you can't lie and say you don't particularly like that feeling of power it gives you. Knowing you could snap his neck with one little tug in the wrong direction. Or right direction, arguably. Enough mulling on that, you need the motherfucker. Move over and pick up a bag, then toss it at him carelessly. It's tied, nothing should fall out.
" Go toss that shit. Worthless organs and shit, no motherfucker's gonna be too suspicious of none of that. Ain't not a single motherfuckin' point in diggin' through a meat dumpster for dead body parts and goin' tryin' to identify 'em. "
> Go back to rooting around, but get bored quickly. You don't got time for this shit. Step into the chest cavity with one foot, stoop down and grab the limp wrist, and jerk his arm upward, twisting it around and tugging until the bone gives way under your grasp and his arm comes up at the shoulder. Good. Bits and pieces.
> Bring your knee up and smash it down over your leg, cracking it at the elbow. When bones crack the opposite direction than they're supposed to bend, it's oddly satisfying. You're able to rip the skin and sinew and muscle with ease, and tuck both pieces of flesh neatly under your arm to dust your hands off.
" Let's get this motherfucker transported, then. Can't be leavin' too many pieces yet, though. It all got up and emptied yesterday and he might be all concerned if there's too much in there in the mornin'. "
> Grin at him, then turn around and start out of the alley toward the dumpster across the street.
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