[The Devil's Nest is no stranger to odd sights. Today, this quota is fulfilled by what looks to be a floating skeleton; famine-thin, seeping a thin layer of shadow, with fingers long and sharp like needles or scalpels or sharpened bone.]
[If anyone side-eyes him from another room as he heads down the corridor - sheathed sword hovering through the middle of an intangible ribcage, freshly dusted with snow from outside - he doesn't pay it any mind. He'd gone in a back way to avoid the bar proper, but he can't do anything about any looks up here - besides, most of them probably also have... circumstances. He's gonna worry about his own instead.]
[Namely, hurdle number one - how to knock when the reason he's here is that he can't unthinkingly rely on corporeality anymore. For a moment, he stares at his claws, curling them - then he solves the problem with a twitch of his other hand's fingers, levitating his blade forward and rapping on Greed's door with the hilt.]
—Boss? ...got a bit of a problem.— [It's undeniably Stocke's voice, but there's an odd quality to it, a mix of an echo and the crackle of an old tape.]
➥ Devil's Nest, March 1
[If anyone side-eyes him from another room as he heads down the corridor - sheathed sword hovering through the middle of an intangible ribcage, freshly dusted with snow from outside - he doesn't pay it any mind. He'd gone in a back way to avoid the bar proper, but he can't do anything about any looks up here - besides, most of them probably also have... circumstances. He's gonna worry about his own instead.]
[Namely, hurdle number one - how to knock when the reason he's here is that he can't unthinkingly rely on corporeality anymore. For a moment, he stares at his claws, curling them - then he solves the problem with a twitch of his other hand's fingers, levitating his blade forward and rapping on Greed's door with the hilt.]
—Boss? ...got a bit of a problem.— [It's undeniably Stocke's voice, but there's an odd quality to it, a mix of an echo and the crackle of an old tape.]