Detective Shaw, Public Ear

[Njack]

Er... Private Eye. That's what I meant.

Shaw leaned back in his cushy recliner in a pretty well furnished room-like box thing. Okay, so he wasn't a big appreciator of aesthetics. He shook his money box... rock box... twig box?

Yeah, he couldn't figure out what currency he was supposed to be using either. Oh well. Point was, it was empty. Empty as his... bank account, he supposed. Now what was the point of that?

Oh yeah, he was broke. Couldn't even purchase a beer at the local bar. If they even sold beers. Shaw hadn't been there for a long time. Probably because he was broke.

He sprang from his recliner and paced around the room. He needed a case. And he needed it now.

Sort of like that old saying that goes about zombies. What do we want? Braaaaains. When do we want it? Braaaaaaains.

[Sivoncé™]

"A zombie in possession of brains must always be in want of more brains." ^{-Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen & Seth Grahme-Smith}[/i]

Armed with a plateload of fresh-baked cookies and a smile that could fit into one of those priceless mastercard commericials, Silenfire knocked on the newcomer's door with a forepaw. He was being nice and neighborly by welcoming the newbie to the village. Or, ya know, at least I think he's new. Maybe he's not. Ah, well, I've never talked to him before. I'm sure he'll appreciate my baked goods, anyway.[b] "Hello," [/b]he called when there was no initial response, "I'm your next door neighbor, I've got cookies with me!" He eyed the oozing, gooey chocolatey chips. They kinda look like brains... He wondered mildly if he'd knocked over that brain-in-a-jar while baking.