[ Cue another overdramatic groan, god Marduk cut her some slack. She finds it easy enough to tell he's annoyed with her (but then again when is he not), although she doesn't seem bothered enough to even consider trying to make this better somehow. ]

Well that's fuckin' harsh, ain't it? [ The off hand way she says it suggests she's not particularly bothered by that either, though. She steps over the body and, deciding she's not carrying shit all either, whistles to Metalhead, who immediately abandons all sniffing and comes to her side. Apollo stretches out her arms and cracks her knuckles first, then crouches down and begins hoisting the body up so she can sling it across the dog's back. ] Yup! Did some snoopin'; wife's been dead fifteen years and he's got no kids or grandkiddies. [ A pause and a grunt as she shoves the poor guy a bit into a better position. ] Grand total of one Christmas card kickin' around, but I dunno, it don't look too personal. Ain't those things 'spose to be personal?