Dennis frowned, wondering why he should slit her throat. If they were going to make it look like a suicide, then what sort of person slits their own throat. Then he realised they would need to cover his bite marks.
He was just about to pick her up to do it, when Jander plopped down in the chair. Typical - he was going to do all the bloody work. But he was back on his feet again, as they lifted her to the bathtub.
She hadn't been dead long enough for rigor mortis to set in, but her skin was cold, not the warmth he had felt just an hour or so earlier. The stench of her blood was overwhelming, as it was tainted, and there seemed to be so much of it.
They carried her into the tub (she was heavier than she looked) and he got to work on her throat. The cut was deep, and a little more blood was on his fingers. He looked at her, deciding that they should probably cut her wrists.
"Best make it look good," he said, filling the tub up with water. He wiped his bloody hands on his already bloodstained shirt. "'Choo reckon the Aurors will buy that it's a suicide?" Even he didn't think they were that stupid.