Katters sits down. “Great,” she says. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a pack of cards or something. Want to play I-spy? Bit of hot-potato with one of those buzzing packages?” She eats another ray. “We could talk world events — sure is weird how the city’s turned into a nightmarish, purgatorial hellscape, huh? Bet the mayor’s behind it, that guy can’t do anything right.”
"I've got a set of knucklebones?" She pulls a pouch from her hood, along with a little ball. "To be fair, in this political climate, I'm not sure I'd put it past him, honestly. He looks like enough of a bastard to do it. Is there anything you do remember about before you ended up here?" She runs her finger over the scar on her lip. "...this can't be random. Right?"
“Well, you can’t blame me, I didn’t vote for him.” The rush of battle’s wearing off, and so’s the ibuprofen. Katters offers Red another ray, then stuffs what remains into her mouth all at once. “I remember plenty,” she says when she’s done swallowing. “It’s just the stuff right before I was attacked that’s missing. You know, the relevant things. I can sort of piece some of it together, though — I woke up in a pool of blood, with a head injury, so I can guess I didn’t go peaceably. With your abduction as another clue, I can guess they wanted us specifically for some reason. Probably not a wrong-place-wrong-time scenario. They stole some of my belongings, but destroyed more of them, I’m not sure what that means, yet. Maybe a grudge of some kind.” She retrieves another couple of pills from her kit and takes them dry. “Supernatural punishment seems likely to me,” she says. “Purgatory, as you said. Or maybe a step further.” She leans over to get a look at the pouch. “Knucklebones, eh? Never was very good at it, but if it’ll pass the time.”
"Pff. Neither did I... hell, I don't think I was even around for the election," she groans, then goes quiet, listening to Katters. "...head injury? Hell. Lemme take a look. I know how to do some patching up, and if it's on your head..." She holds out a handful of knucklebones. "I don't think it's hell. I haven't done quite enough to get there. Yet."
“Nah,” Katters says, dismissing the idea with a wave. “It’s fine. Already took a look at it, myself, there’s nothing to be done unless you’re hiding a surgical suite in your hood, too.” Taking the toys from Red, she holds one up for a closer look. “Nice,” she says. “Never seen a real set, before.” She scatters the bones between them. “Supposing you’ve done something to deserve this, though? What you figure you’re in for?” Her tone is neutral — conversational — and her expression’s similarly blank. “Why’ve they called you a monster?”
"Pff. I'm handy with a needle, but 's up to you." She settles her chin on her knee, then chuckles low. "Thanks, I collected them myself." She's silent for a moment, then bounces the ball and snatches up a knucklebone. "Well, for one, I've got a set of these made out of human bones, too..." She pushes back her hood, shakes herself, and grins wider, scarred face splitting into a slightly inhuman shape, more canid than anything else, staring with golden eyes. "They had reasons." She picks the ball up with delicately claws, holding it out to Katters. "Your move."
Katters raises an eyebrow. “My, what big eyes you have,” she recites. “But you probably get that a lot.” She drops the ball and grabs a bone. “Make them yourself, do you? Is it a hobby, or are you a toymaker by profession? Or maybe you have a different motivation for crafting children’s toys.”
"Pff. Only when they can see them." Red shrugs. "And when it's easier to just steal people's pets for dinner, you pick up some really weird habits." She holds her hand out for the ball.
Katters rolls the ball over to Red, and rolls the point she’s won between her fingers. She takes another look at it. “So that’s whatever happened to ol’ Lassie,” she says. She drops her hand and looks back to Red. “You know, they’re usually made from sheep.”
"I know. And I have some that are." She bounces the ball, snatching up two more bones. "Some things are just easier to catch."
“You know what’s easy to catch? A cheeseburger.” Katters frowns, her ears flicking up. “Wow,” she says. “I’d kill for a cheeseburger right now.”
"....people watch their things more than the dogs they leave in the backyard, or the cats they leave loose to wander." She raises her chin.
“I can assure you that most people don’t keep their Happy Meals under lock and key, plenty of them leave their food sit well in the open while they dick around on their phones or their Kindles. And if that’s still too hard for you, there’s always dumpster diving.”
Katters catches it. “It started with the looks,” she says. She drops the ball to take her turn, but it hits a crack in the floor and goes wild, bouncing and rolling to the other side of the room. She sighs, and stands up to fetch it.
"Fair enough." She tilts her head, then stands, moving to check out the window, peering cautiously out. "...looks like they're full."
Katters picks up the ball and approaches the window, herself. “Full and leaving, or full and coming up here to tie up loose ends?” She looks outside, wondering if anything was left behind.
The creature appears to be leaving, dancing away like a wind-up toy. "...well, here's hoping we're cleared for the night."
