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<blockquote data-quote="CanadienneBacon" data-source="post: 6741991" data-attributes="member: 11146">[ooc]-12 is, indeed, pretty frigid.&nbsp; That's roughly what it got down to the previous two winters here in southeastern Indiana.&nbsp; An anomaly.&nbsp; But I bet it's colder where Shayuri lives.[/ooc]Keihn initially declined T-dawg's offer of food, but when the smell of something delicious wafted to the dining table from stovetop, the agent sniffed appreciatively.&nbsp; He said he'd like something, after all, then got up and made coffee.&nbsp; He seemed to know his way around the kitchen fairly well.Down in the basement, Professor Bukowski unwrapped the thrall and stood, amazed, for a long several seconds.&nbsp; He whispered a soft &quot;oh, wow,&quot; pleased surprise etched in his tone.&nbsp; All too soon he had the creature laid out on the table, its tentacles spread in a fan.&nbsp; He cringed at Otter's knife work and muttered something inaudible, but otherwise seemed unfazed.&nbsp; Out of the large black plastic case--which turned out to be lined with dense black foam into which were pressed myriad dissection tools, implements, and an entire line of differently sized collection dishes ranging from petri to pint--came four hemostats, a tissue punch, a razor blade, an elevator, and a narrow scalpel.&nbsp; He laid out the tools in a line on surgical gauze, then paused, thinking.&nbsp; He eyes roamed to the pyrex custard dish and pottery crock, then he scoffed.&nbsp; A pair of small dull metal containers came out, different in color and texture than the knife Otter'd used.&nbsp; These he placed nearer the tentacles, then got to work.&nbsp; In sixty seconds flat, Bukowski had the two remaining tentacular sacs out of the thrall and into the pair of small metal containers.&nbsp; He stood up and stretched.&nbsp; &quot;OK, thanks.&nbsp; All done.&quot;&nbsp; He winked at Otter, grinned a Cyril, then started neatening up.&nbsp; He'd only used the scalpel and two of the hemostats, and all three implements went inside a slim metallic bag that he sealed and placed in his case.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="CanadienneBacon, post: 6741991, member: 11146"] [ooc]-12 is, indeed, pretty frigid. That's roughly what it got down to the previous two winters here in southeastern Indiana. An anomaly. But I bet it's colder where Shayuri lives.[/ooc] Keihn initially declined T-dawg's offer of food, but when the smell of something delicious wafted to the dining table from stovetop, the agent sniffed appreciatively. He said he'd like something, after all, then got up and made coffee. He seemed to know his way around the kitchen fairly well. Down in the basement, Professor Bukowski unwrapped the thrall and stood, amazed, for a long several seconds. He whispered a soft "oh, wow," pleased surprise etched in his tone. All too soon he had the creature laid out on the table, its tentacles spread in a fan. He cringed at Otter's knife work and muttered something inaudible, but otherwise seemed unfazed. Out of the large black plastic case--which turned out to be lined with dense black foam into which were pressed myriad dissection tools, implements, and an entire line of differently sized collection dishes ranging from petri to pint--came four hemostats, a tissue punch, a razor blade, an elevator, and a narrow scalpel. He laid out the tools in a line on surgical gauze, then paused, thinking. He eyes roamed to the pyrex custard dish and pottery crock, then he scoffed. A pair of small dull metal containers came out, different in color and texture than the knife Otter'd used. These he placed nearer the tentacles, then got to work. In sixty seconds flat, Bukowski had the two remaining tentacular sacs out of the thrall and into the pair of small metal containers. He stood up and stretched. [color=red]"OK, thanks. All done."[/color] He winked at Otter, grinned a Cyril, then started neatening up. He'd only used the scalpel and two of the hemostats, and all three implements went inside a slim metallic bag that he sealed and placed in his case. [/QUOTE]

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