~Character Chat~

"Welding peanut butter?! Are you CRAZY?" Riddle asked.
"Well, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" T.Mor laughed. Riddle, as usual, didn't even look.

"I believe Ezra was talking about the metal," Sarah said with a smirk.

"Oh. Ok...Well, that makes more sense..."Riddle said thoughtfully. She had given up on trying to do any more hand gestures, as she was becoming too stiff from Rigor Mortis to manage any in a timely manner. "I hate this part...where moving sucks..." She commented on it idly, as if it were the weather, or an armadillo.

"How long does it last?" Peter asked curiously.

"I was but we don't have a welder here but I think there's one at my da...." Ezra paled, relizing what he was about to say. "Nevermind."

"8 hours to go completely stiff. 8 hours completely stiff. 8 hours to loosen back up...so...MATHS." Riddle failed at calculating simple maths. It was unclear as to whether she just didn't know the math, or if she just didn't feel like doing it. "It drags. Normally I try to fall asleep when I've got 2 hours til the stiffening is complete, because then I don't have to worry about being stuck like a statue staring at someone for 8 hours. It gets BORING AS CRAP." She added.

"Hm, that's unfortunate," Peter commented. "I wonder how long your soul could concentrate...? Probably not long..."

"Concentrate?" asked Ezra.

"I'd give it 6 seconds." T.Mor guessed.
"Maybe four." Riddle guessed simultaneously.
"Four WHAT?" August asked.
"Just four." Riddle returned simply, as though it were self explanatory.

"Four seconds, probably," Peter said. "Pretty close to T.Mor's guess. I'd place it around there, too." Then, to Ezra, "I was wondering how long Riddle's soul might be able to concentrate and hold a switch. You know, providing he can concentrate hard enough to switch in the first place. Riddle wouldn't be affected by rigor mortis then. Her soul wouldn't be, either, in the new body."

"Interesting."

Thirty minutes later, Andrew bounded down the stairs drenched in sweat.

"Hehe...that was fun...hehe..." Andrew gasped.

"How far did you run?" asked Liz.

"To the school and back."

"But...but that's five miles!"

Andrew looked at Liz, "I just kept pushing myself, haven't had the oppertunity in a while."

"Dude, I can't imagine what people thought of you! The only people in your get up are the Amish." laughed Ezra.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait.... YOU CAN GET ME A NEW BODY?" Riddle asked. "When can we set this thing up?"

"Sesria could explain the process to your soul," Peter said. "I don't know how receptive your soul would be, though."

"You can't just tie it up an MAKE IT receptive?" Riddle asked. "Because...lets face it guys...I have more duct tape in my liver than a whole block of Auda slums." Riddle said factually.
"She probably is...Knowing her and knowing the Duct Tape Riots." T.Mor agreed.

"Could you have done that for me?" asked Andrew.

Ezra shook his head, and went upstairs. When he returned he was carrying a bundle of clothes. "I can't take you seriously like that. Go change." he said pointing to the bathroom.

"That's ok. I never take him seriously. He whines too much..." Riddle said honestly.

"Haha," said Andrew sarcastically, walking into the bathroom.

"I never take him seriously." said Ezra, shaking his head.

A minute later, Andrew walked out of the bathroom in a tee shirt and jeans. He looks like a normal teenager, if you didn't count the fact he was supposed to be dead.

Both T.Mor and Riddle stared at him. They'd actually never seen a person dressed like that other than August. "THERE ARE NO WORDS ON YOUR SHIRT!!!" Riddle yelled at him.

"I liked my other shirt." sighed Andrew.

"That was shirt you died in," said Ezra.

"Why is that a problem? I've died in practically my whole wardrobe." Riddle said somewhat defensively.
"Wait...seriously?" August asked, somewhat revolted.
"Yeah." Riddle responded flatly.

"Yeah but he died once...along with a bunch of other people...of hypothermia..."

"That is a very silly thing to die of. Why not just go inside and sit on a fire?" Riddle asked.
"You sit by a fire Not ON a fire..." T.Mor corrected her invisibly. " And you don't have to be outside to die of hypothermia...we instigate it all the time down in the prison...It's too cold and damp for most people down there..." T.Mor added to her, completely forgetting that she wasn't capable of seeing him at the moment.

"Heh, that brings back old memories," Peter said. "Back in the city. Fleeing from the refugees when they would come around was a lot harder for me than it was for Senet for a long while...'cause, you know, the whole flying thing... Anyway, until I learned to fly, what I would do if I got cornered was either find a fire or make one, and sit in it. Just sit with my knees pulled up to my chin until they got discouraged and went away. I burned an awful lot of clothes, but it was an effective strategy for quite a while."

"That's freaking AWESOME." Riddle said. If she could have, she would have made a really amazed facial expression, but as it was she was finding herself having a harder and harder time talking at all, as her mouth was freezing up. " I have no Idea what made you say that...but STILL. awesome."
"Ok. I'll admit, that's starting to get irritating." T.Mor conceded. Riddle's inability to see him was grating a little bit.

"Well I'm sorry to say there was no fire, we were in the middle of the ocean. The ship sunk." Andrew said smugly. "And unlike you lot I was normal."