the stench of death is cloying. sharp and coppery and hot. it's a scent that clings to him long after it's gone and, much to his distress, gaz has grown used to its presence. removing and burying bodies is only part of the job. it's the aftermath that pains him the most. because someone has to clean up the blood stains and return... lost body parts... to their owners. and it may as well be him. he's usually chipper on a morning like this, but the hot summer air is heavy with loss. ten people. ten more names to be scratched from the list. ten more faces for him to forget as other faces replace them. he can still see the empty terror in their eyes whenever he closes his own. a heavy burden, but one he bears with quiet determination. if not for the colony house, such deaths would be more frequent. heavy limbed and tired, gaz regards his clean up work from his position on the colony house front deck and squints. his reverie is broken when the shadow of someone leaving the house blocks his sun. soft eyed and kindly, he lets a smile deepen laugh lines and raises dark, thick eyebrows in greeting. "al'reet? out for some air?" he procures one of his homegrown, special joints from behind one of his ears and holds it aloft, invitingly. "y'want some?" company is always appreciated. especially on a day like this.
