"Was the profanity really necessary?" A dry voice asks, one that Matthew should be very familiar with by this point. Death is sitting in one of the armchairs, a glass of scotch held lazily in one hand. He motions with the other to the empty room, inviting Matthew to sit.
His eyes pause curiously on the pigeon. "... a new friend?" He asks, brows raising in some sort of surprise or interest.
no subject
His eyes pause curiously on the pigeon. "... a new friend?" He asks, brows raising in some sort of surprise or interest.