>>12540084I flashed her the knife, secured snugly in the ziplock, "That Slakoth murder. We're looking into it, what do you know about this knife? It's not from the buffet, and the sloth died on-stage, is this one of your silly props?"
She gawked at the thing for only a second before shaking her fat ass head, "Not in the slightest, harrumph! That piss-poor knife is no where near as excelling or efficient as the ones utilized in MY production! That silly thing isn't even fit enough to cut through a steak, let alone a sloth's back! Take it away!"
I shrugged casually, "Oh well. Suit yourself. Come along guys. Bitchface has some actors to yell at."
I ignored her string of "polite" curses as we headed elsewhere.
"Is it just me, or was her ass kinda big?" murmured Quags.
Ugh, that guy...
Regardless new bit of info acquired. Seems like the knife isn't from the buffet table *and* isn't a play prop. That could only mean it came from somewhere on the ship other than the theater, smuggled in sometime before or during the play.
>Time will shift to Night automatically in: 1 post.A) Talk to Captain Swalot.
B) Go Backstage.
C) Go to the kitchen.
