#oh god... two yappers... AND they're getting along immediately

[mortul]

literanis asked: “did you know? the human body has 300 bones when we’re born! as adults, there’s only 206…” she has a huge grin. “that’s a difference of nearly 100! have any idea?” — from raziel!

@literanis: raziel ／ unprompted ／ always accepting.

From the sheer amount of times Christoph's responded, intermittently, with a mumbled, "Uh-huh," there might've been a misconception. Said misconception might've revolved around... perhaps... that he hadn't been listening to her in the first place. It wouldn't have been the first time (not for her, bear in mind. he's not sure if he could handle her big, old puppy-dog eyes in such a case.) he's gotten away with such a rude gesture-- he's rather proud of his current "body count", truth be told.

Him nodding along to her little "infodump", too, could've given way to a far more... well, let's just say: disrespectful outlook. He had occasionally glanced over her way, lips stuck together in a subtle smile with the occasional twitching of corners. Eyebrows remained lax, not bothering in voicing his contemplation with a furrow.

Why would he? It's not like she was asking him anything that was particularly difficult... Okay, well, she kind of was... but. But! That's why he was letting it sink in; she was going all in, asking the hard questions-- the questions that the people needed answers for!

Christoph halfway contemplated, imagining her for a brief moment in politics... then stopped shortly after. Genuine people like Raziel? Nah. Naaah. They'd eat her alive out there. He better not.

It's better for him to have not brought that energy into this world in the first place.

"A hundo, huh?" he asked after a few seconds, turning his head to her with a certain, newfound mirth upon his visage. "Now, where'd you hear such a cornball thing like that, eh? Not sayin' I doubt ya, 'cause... well, shoot, darlin'-- th'human body is fuckin' cuh-raaaazy. It's just that, weeeell..."

Trust him on that, too; he has experience-- buckets of the stuff! Debatably a little too much, depending on who you're talking to.

"...that's edgin' a bit too close t'uhh... body horror territory, y'know?"

"But, hey, fuck it... We ball. Since ya asked," came the long-awaited sequel of his quip, with the pause in-between allowing for him to lean ever so carefully toward her, "here's my theory-- a, eh, "gamer theory", if you'll humor me... yer bestest buddy, that is."

Tilting his head, he squinted his eyes for dramatic effect emphasis. Surely, with that in mind, she'll know he means business... because, honestly, who wouldn't take this mean old mug seriously? Dumbasses, that's who.

Lowering his voice a few octaves, what should've been a whisper comes out a bit more croaky (sometimes he regrets smoking as much as he did... er, does, but too late for that one.) than expected, Christoph delivers the bombshell of the century.

"I think we shit 'em out."