Fucking people over was easier when you didn’t have to hear about how they got fucked over after. He preferred to do his bad deeds then split. Mao didn’t like to feel guilty. He huffed, defensive. “C’mon she ain’t gonna inspect every body in here, is she? Keep a sheet over it!” As he spoke, faint tendrils of smoke began to curl up from the top edge of the drawer opening. The smell was not of sulfur as one would expect from a demon. You could not put your finger on it, it was just the scent of burning.
“Well, it doesn’t have to be dead…” Another one of those amused sounds, “I’m just not that into killing. But… it does gotta be people.” Otherwise he wouldn’t be in this mess.
The last thing Mao expected was an offer of throw away parts. He couldn’t quite believe it. “Really!?” The pupils of the floating eyes dialated big and round in excitement, and Mao almost did jump out, but he caught himself. That shit just seemed too good to be true.
Orange eyes narrowed, suspicious. “Wait… You’re not gonna like, taze me or something when I come out, are you? Or call the cops after? Or round up the villagers with pitchforks to mob me, right?”