(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

humming in her head. Such a restless, perky girl.
"Greetings."
She curtsied gratefully and looked up to me, smiling. "Well met, good sir! I'm
Nenny! And how are you this fine d-?" She suddenly noticed my scars and
placed a gloved hand over her mouth. "Oh my! You're hurt!" She blinked.
"All over!"
Morte spun around me, mocking the girl's obviousness. "Powers above,
chief... she's right! I never noticed before... you're covered in scars!"
"They're all old scars," I reassured her, "I'm fine."
She nodded quietly, lowering her hand.
"So I was hoping we could t-"
"Huh?" She couldn't seem to tear her eyes from my scars. "Oh, how
shameful of me! Don't mind my rude staring! I am named Nenny," she made
another little curtsy. "And it is my great pleasure to welcome you to our
Brothel for the Slating of Intellectual Lusts." She returned to staring at my
body. "You have tattoos under those scars, too! What's that one?" She
pointed to one of my tattoos.
"That one's-"
"Looks fascinating! Look at the way the lines of ink...I think that's ink..." She
squinted, then reached out to touch my skin.
I let her. Nenny's hands were delicate as they caressed the wound-puckered
flesh. Her fingers were adept at drinking in the sensations.
"I think that's ink." She traced a finger around the edge of the tattoo. "Is it
ink? And what a pattern! Look at the way the lines intersect here." She
touched the center of the tattoo. "That's simply amazing..." She pursed her
lips and frowned in disappointment. "I could make it out better if there
weren't so many scars..."
"There's nothing to be done about the scars; they're permanent."
525