[ Rust's tried to be judicious in where he directs his attention—some of them are so tangled up in each other there'd be no point in picking at the knot, and it'd guarantee him a fucking migraine besides. But this one seems quick enough on the uptake that it might be worth chiming in. ]
(It's a stretch.) [ He agrees, his mind humming along. ] (The aunt doesn't come out of mourning til tomorrow—why plant the clothes just then? Shit, why use clothes at all, why not the murder weapon?)
no subject
( It's a stretch. ) [ He agrees, his mind humming along. ] ( The aunt doesn't come out of mourning til tomorrow—why plant the clothes just then? Shit, why use clothes at all, why not the murder weapon? )