Origin of the Feces

[angstclot]

With the security guard standing just outside, Lester waits patiently in Banger's office, looking over some of the Gaians personal effects scattered around..and with the exception of the human skull sitting on a shelf by the window, he finds everything else on the whole as surprisingly average.

He has never seen a real skull outside of personal media or a museum before, and he is absolutely fascinated by it. The teeth, the noseholes, the color of the bone. Who it could have been. Was it a cop? Outcast?

Out of pure curiosity, he raised his finger up to touch it and was strongly startled as Banger Grim entered the room.

"You must be the journalist bloke." he said, walking to the wetbar and grabbing a pair of clay cups.

"Yes Sir." Lester replied, doing his best to keep the rush of adrenaline from shaking his voice. "I was admiring your decor and curious if your skull here was real or not."

"Aye, It's real." the Gaian replied casually while pouring the drinks. "It's the head of my best friend."

Oh! I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. How did he die if I may ask?"

Banger walked towards the writer, his face as grim as his name, offering the nervous man his alcohol while speaking in a low growl. "One day, I caught him getting too close to my personal belongings."