[attr="class","dreap i"]there's an incredulous look gracing her features, the woman almost torn between outright laughing at him or prying further. of course, she'll settle upon both with a grin on her lips but that's neither here nor there. "okaay," she starts with a slight drawl, eyebrow pulling further up as if it wants to become lost in damp tangles of bangs. "maybe if you didn't bundle up for the sand, you wouldn't think it's a thousand degrees?" although, as another drop of sweat rolls down her cheek, she's in agreement for once. it's hot, too hot for snark perhaps and she's attempting to bite her tongue.

it fails, sure, but she tries. that counts for something, right?

"you're looking for a snake?" she questions and the curious leer is telltale enough. her interest is piqued. sand shifts beneath her sandals, grains easily diving between her toes. a light snicker escapes and she's leaning to stare up at him, ignoring the way their eyepatches almost match. "your complaining might be scaring away this elusive snake." doubtful but she's amused by the thought.

between the too-stretched collar and the throat clearing, she's momentarily distracted. her eye dips slightly to follow the movement of a hand only to flutter back up to a smile. misunderstood the situation, hm? her mouth parts and close to a dozen different choice words rise to the occasion. she can't decide between poking fun and questioning what exactly he thought this was. both? both sounds good. "how do you misunderstand finding a snake?" her head tilts toward the side as if the concept is weighing one side of her mind down. another laugh follows, perhaps too amused to be considered light, and she's grinning like a cat. "did you expect snakes to live somewhere cold?" with the turtleneck catching her eye again, that is definitely a possibility.

any attempts to restrain herself came crumbling into ruins, her shoulders trembling slightly once laugh after laugh bubbles out of her throat. a turtleneck, in style, in the desert? oh god, he can't be serious, right? one look at him and she knows he is halfway between slightly humiliated and genuine. it only makes her laugh harder. "you'd be better off wearing nothing if style's what you're concerned about," the words are punctuated by stifled giggles, a feeble attempt to compose herself.

the smirk solidifies further onto her lips with something akin to a satisfied lion. one hand plants itself onto a hip bone and she's not quite preening but almost enough to be considered prideful. "the one who would have to crack open your chest," she retorts. cut open his in style turtleneck and then his skin, crack open the ribs and dive in. mmm yeah, no, she'd prefer to not have to be on the receiving end of his morgue visit. best to not ruin such a stylish shirt with her scissors.

[attr="class","dreap i"]okay, heat and eyepatches do not, under any circumstances, mix. she's uncomfortable with the fabric against her eye socket, the way sweat seems to seep between the spaces and cling to her skin. it's almost suffocating in a way she despises. stupid thing. she's contemplating discarding it but the glass eye reflects the direct sunlight in a way that makes her skin absolutely crawl.

in the end, she suffers through. it could be worse. in fact, she could be that guy.

her eye sweeps toward a man and his ludicolo struggling through the sand. oh god, is that a turtle-neck? is he trying to die of heat stroke? she's openly staring by now, mouth slightly gaping at the sight. behind her, a haxorus grumbles irritably, tail sweeping through the sand enough to stir the loose grains into the air.

"are," a pause to collect herself, to school her composure into not scolding this man with the firm tone of a parent. "are you okay?" is settled upon because really, it's better than asking if he's stupid or dense. kinder in a way she normally isn't, perhaps. sand stirs beneath the movement of her feet, legs shuffling closer.

somehow, she's thankful she had half a mind to dress lighter today. sure, the yellow sundress is a little outside of her realm of style but it's pleasant and light in the heat. "what are you even doing out here?" her eye roams him for a moment. up, down, and then back up. and then, before she can even stop herself, she's raising an eyebrow as arms fold and settle across her chest. "wearing a sweater of all things." a snort escapes and she's almost smirking. "are you trying to end up in a morgue?"

[attr="class","drea i"]slime is abandoned, fading into the distance with one last shimmer. the walk continues and the path is seemingly long and endless. is there a destination in mind? perhaps. will she reach it by the time the moon leaves the sky and the sun peeks out across the horizon? no, it doesn't seem as though she will.

something blocks their path. a low growl escapes the dragon at her heels and in response, a low meow echoes around them.



a purrloin licks lazily at a paw, tail swishing across the ground. the feline doesn't take up much room and yet, both the woman and her companion slide to a stop at the sight. is it lost? does it belong to someone? hm. her head tilts at the thought as if a new angle of perception will somehow bring understanding. it doesn't and she's simply staring at a purple cat like it has three heads. the feline stares back, almost defiant. claws dig into dirt, tail swishing slower. another growl resonates behind her and she doesn't need eyes in the back of her head to know that labrys is irritated. the shift in mood is always palpable.

"come," she murmurs. her body angles a different way, feet shuffling to wander around the obstacle. hesitation follows the haxorus and she's glancing over her shoulder with mild curiosity. it shouldn't be surprising that the dragon doesn't want to leave. protective, even when there's no reason. sure, the cat might be up to no good and might have an old glint in its eye but that doesn't mean it's dangerous. eventually, labrys slowly begins to move to her side, narrowed eyes never leaving the purrloin's body as she goes. "let's go." drea leaves no room for questioning, no room for arguing.

their figures fade into the night and the purrloin is left by its lonesome, the paw it had been licking rising to rub at an ear. and then, it slowly slinks away to the shadows, abandoning the position it had stubbornly held.

[attr="class","drea i"]huh. she's not exactly a detective but... a trail of slime is slightly suspicious? the woman can't help but stare at the glistening mucus, the way it almost seems to glitter beneath the glow of the moon. there's a faint yellow color to it, just enough to seem odd in a way that she isn't familiar with. it's different from the bodily fluids she's seen in the morgue, that's for sure. and yet, she wonders where it leads. what would she find if she follows?



turns out, she'll find a dragon. a goodra, to be exact. huh, she hadn't been expecting that. an eyebrow quirks upward at the faint purple dragon as if she's not impressed. is it wrong that she had almost been hoping for some sort of slime monster? weird and certainly not real, this much she knows, but a girl could dream right?

at her heels, labrys lets out a soft growl. is it a greeting or a warning? perhaps both if she really had to think about it. her haxorus isn't the best at sharing... the goodra rumbles back in response. and before the woman can even shuffle closer, can even consider lifting a hand to wave, the slime dragon is moving on.

a moment passes, a breeze blows. then they, too, begin to move along, the soft echo of a growl following their fading figures.

[attr="class","drea i"]existential crises tend to come at the most inopportune times. tonight, it comes in the form of a walk away from the morgue. odd, really, considering how late her shifts actually are but sometimes the stench becomes too much and the sight of purple bruises on flesh can churn her stomach. it's always a moment of weakness, of questioning, of remorse. again, odd, considering the nature of her area of expertise. she's the woman on a pale horse, what comes after pestilence, war, and famine are finished sowing their havoc. well, not technically, but in a way. she doesn't end lives, she merely cracks open what's left to study the causes.



the report is still fresh in her mind, still mulled over with a fine tooth comb. had she missed anything? no, not that she can tell. it all seems sound, even in the matter of her mind. no dna, no trace of an offender. that's for the detectives to dive into, not her, never her. of course, she always has her theories but they never change the ending. someone is always dead on her table, ribcage waiting to be cracked open. something about it tends to be funny in a sort of dark way. it's the most intimate way to get to know someone, you know. and always the saddest.

"come," she murmurs to her companion. a haxorus follows close at her heels, jaws of steel almost glistening in the moonlight. an armored thing, perhaps a preference of hers really. less fatality with hardened armor, less injuries. of course, the dragon is a bit of a fickle thing. she always has been, though, ever since she was but a small axew. the thought brings a slight smile to her lips. "let's go a little further." there's only death waiting for her return. it can wait a little longer.