Log-cabin motherfucker doing his thing I guess. Doing his log-cabin-motherfucker thing and that is his choice that is what he chose to do.

—

Doc got everyone else over the border into Italy. She checked the Demons into a hotel there and she hired a kid named Matteo to take the dead lady’s stolen car and drive like hell to Naples and set it on fire. Charlie made everyone’s IDs disappear, just gone. Thermocline magic. Then Doc walked them all right out the back and around the corner to another hotel where they were other people, and the old other people who they were and are not now are notionally still in the first hotel because Matteo’s girlfriend is in suite 501 eating as much room service as she wants and making random calls to Indonesia until Friday when they’re both going on a four-week cruise.

When Matteo gets back, he will also be taking a suitcase full of money to a house in St. Gallen where there are two kids who just grew up hard and fast because their mother had a heart attack on a visit with friends in the capital. Dead-lady dues. Doc is nothing if not truthful. And then they came back over the border into Switzerland by train and back to Bern to look for me and they figured if I was not dead and the cops didn’t have me, then this was where I would be and they were right and that is nice and now everything will be okay. Business is business and everything will be okay.

“Volodya—”

Doc says that they found him already, that he threw himself into some kind of hoist machinery on a farm and got all cut up so no one could tell he was shot.

After giving me his actual blood.

Charlie already did a thing. Charlie of all people has friends here. She is known in the Black House and the Black House has gray connections because of course it does. That is a good thing although she seems to feel there may be personal friction if we stay for too long. Romance, man, go figure.

—

Task-management thing. Someone will collect his body for us. Store it.

On ice.

He’d laugh. Volodya would laugh about that he has a horrible sense of humor.

Guy eats corpse ham.

Not really.

Ate corpse ham.

Had a horrible sense of humor.

—

I don’t understand death at all it does not make sense and I have seen a lot of it but the more you peer into it the less you get it. People who die don’t go anywhere and there’s no mystery about it they just stop talking to you and stop doing anything else and it’s really shitty if you like them because there is not them anymore.

I don’t get how that works.

He had a horrible sense of humor. Had. Had had had had had.