They stand up and brush themselves off. There’s no time to waste, but there’s one final element they’ve not worked out.
Part of the reason, Tavros thinks, that he’s been so game to continue on with the worst plan anyone has ever concocted, is that the more bullshit they endure, the longer they can put off actually doing anything that matters.
If he’s getting sprayed with a sprinkler and getting clown feet in his face, it’s a farce. It can’t hurt him. But if they get to the part where he’s shoving the uncooperative weight of his uncle’s corpse in an incinerator, he will stop floating in protective semi-consciousness above his body and it will all be real.
There’s no time for an incinerator, now, and somehow, Tavros realizes, reality has caught up with them all the same.
All three of them are quiet for a moment while they look down at the body. There is a soft, wet plink as a droplet from his bloodied nose hits the tile.
VRISSY: So what do we do a8out...
TAVROS: I’d prefer to,,, not drag him along any further, if possible,
TAVROS: The cat is rather out of the, um,, bag at this point, is it not?
VRISSY: Yeah, no real Point in wasting time hiding him anywhere 8etter than this.
VRISKA: Yeah. Fuck it. I’m done dealing with him.