Interlude con Roscoe

"....more like, I suppose. But it is a kind of art that people don't consider very polite. They definitely do make anatomy books though. Even some real art books might be better." He pulled another random volume of the shelf to find a better example - Wild Elven Wenches was really pretty tame by anyone's standards. He flipped open to a random page, glanced down, immediately went red in the face and slammed it closed again. Maybe Puppy Love had not been the most considered choice... "Gods Roscoe!" He exclaimed after he'd recovered from the shock. "Where do you even *find* these?"

"Huh? Oh, broadsheet stands, mostly. Sometimes I find things left on the ground, or in alleys. I do a lot of walking at night, and for some reason sometimes people will just drop these and walk away really fast when I come around a corner or something. It's weird."

He shrugged. "Anyway, do you wanna see the lab?"

"...yeah I think I might want to wash my hands, if you don't mind. This way?"