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[aggressiveapathy]

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[enigmaestro]

Well he seems partial to you. What if he was led to believe that your raccoons, emboldened by their temporary coup, had viciously slaughtered you?

Maybe that fifty year old boyfriend of yours could be of assistance, in terms of special effects.

[aggressiveapathy]

please
he's at least 60
and would that count as sick time
for the days i'm dead

[enigmaestro]

Depends on how many days you're planning to play 'possum for the sake of your raccoons.

Two days? That's a decent romantic venture with your aged gentleman, don't you think?

[aggressiveapathy]

perfect
i'll get the blood gallons
oh, and you know
all the disapproval behind the age jokes just makes it hotter

[enigmaestro]

I refuse to be a conduit in your tawdry April-December relationship.


April, heh. Actually that's really funny, I'm really funny.

[aggressiveapathy]

i'll put it on your email signatures
ed nygma
funny
and happiness hater

[enigmaestro]

I find both epithets to be accurate. But you seem to be missing about a third of my name.

Threatening with the familiarity of nicknames won't stop me mocking your December.

PS Would this make you a Decemberist? See, I am aware of musical endeavors.

[aggressiveapathy]

oh my god
i'm going to kill felicia
for keeping you up on what the kids are into these days

[enigmaestro]

I cannot bear the irony of this statement, given Mr. Dillon's unfortunate condition.

[aggressiveapathy]

we're both hypocrites
it's a large part of my charm
and sexiness

[enigmaestro]

Yes, well, your charm and sexiness as thus derailed our revenge train.

[aggressiveapathy]

they do that
they're just unavoidable
even in text
but how much blood does the human body have anyway

1/2

[enigmaestro]

It's dependent on the subject, and the variables include body weight, height, and often gender is a correlation -- but the best indicator should be expressed as a percentage of one's body weight. The range encapsulating humanity is eight to twelve pints, and the average adult male has roughly ten pints.

[enigmaestro]

Wait.

Whose blood are you using for this illusion?

[aggressiveapathy]

what about me
how much blood do i have
in liters

[totally overlooking that last bit...]

[enigmaestro]

How much do you weigh?

I mean, I could guess (and accurately) and you can answer my former question or we can play this game.

[aggressiveapathy]

a lady never tells
her weight or blood source

[enigmaestro]

You have to match the blood type anyway, as the devil's in the details, so there. That's going to make things difficult for you, think of all the work you'll have to suffer. Ages of work. So much work that Mr. Dillon's funeral may interfere with your escapade.

4.3 litres by the by.

[aggressiveapathy]

ugh
it was your idea
that you talked me out of
was there a second, less exhausting one

[enigmaestro]

I'm simply reminding you that if you want this as easy as possible, you'll need my continuous aid. And if you want my continuous aid, I'll need to be kept abreast of every cognitive direction.

If you don't actually have a source for the blood, tell me your blood type and we can borrow it from a Red Cross donation center.

[aggressiveapathy]

i was just gonna try the homeless
yours is easier i guess
i'll have to talk to less people

[enigmaestro]

And now you're sparing me flashbacks of Lust, as well. Win-win.

[aggressiveapathy]

lust?
i thought we were past the sexiness portion of the conversation

[enigmaestro]

Ah, no, Lust the individual. Noun proper. She was an associate of mine.

[aggressiveapathy]

Lust and homeless blood
okay, so
i give
you have amazing stories