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He was a fucking freak, that guy.
Which is, well, not surprising at all. Oz was full of sick fucks who were kinda of weird in many ways, but he usually didn't care about that.
(Even he was described like that.)
He did care when the said sick fucks were weird specifically around and towards him, tho.
Just when he had gotten rid of a problem, ending the animosity with Guerra, he thought he finally could get a little breathing room. Like, Oz was still a shitty place and all. That wouldn't change. He sure didn't win the lottery. But at least he could just....be, without worrying about anyone going after him to shank his ass. Get some glimpse of peace. It was a good thing.
(And he forgot how good was when he and Chico were on good terms. It was–
He kinda miss–
It was a better time.)
He could finally have some rest.
Or at least, he thought that would be that way.
Unfortunately, that was fucking Oz. He should expect it.
As he said, guy was a freak. It wasn't in the Oz normal sense, like, “I will bite your dick off aka Beecher” or whatever was Adebisi's whole being. But it was still pretty disturbing. Totally settled him off.
“Did you know,” the guy started, startling Miguel out of his read.
Miguel barely looked up before the guy leaned across the table, eyes gleaming like he was about to reveal a secret no one should know.
"Skinning a human being is one of the most difficult tasks imaginable. It's nothing like skinning a pig, where the process is more straightforward and often mechanical. With a human, you have to work slowly, using a small, sharp knife—because the skin clings tightly, and using a larger blade risks tearing or slipping. It requires not just precision, but physical strength; your hands have to do much of the pulling. It’s a delicate process."
Then he tilted his head to the side and blinked slowly, an unsettling fake friendly smile creeping in.
"Of course, it’s a lot easier when they’re dead. The living fight too much. Makes it almost impossible to get the skin off cleanly."
When Miguel's frown deepened, because what the fuck was that?, the other just laughed and tapped against a book he had with him.
“I was reading a book about meat processing and it came to me." He shrugged, that gleam in his eyes shining at looking at him. “Isn't it fascinating?”
Miguel stared.
The shittiest thing is that it had become some kind of thing that happened a lot, at times when Miguel just wanted to clear his head (or at least try to). It was conveniently at these times. That Chinese creep just appeared and started rambling weird shit to Miguel, things like Did you know how much a dog bleeds after a deep cut? (fuck him for that), or Did you know how long someone lives after being cut in half with a chainsaw? or Have you ever heard the sound of someone's neck breaking after being crushed by the sole of a boot?.
He didn't want to know shit about that.
Jia Kenmin’s smile grew wider when he didn't react, or didn't react too much. He didn't do it expecting a full living reaction. He liked it when Miguel’s shoulders just tensed slightly with his words. Enjoyed the way his lips curved upward in an all encompassing frown. Enjoyed the way he was visibly freaked out, even if he hadn't much energy to tell the guy to fuck off.
He liked that. He liked to do that especially with Miguel, for some fucking reason.
Still not deigning to respond, Miguel gets up from the table, deciding that his time in the library was over. Or rather, completely ruined. As he walks away, he doesn't even look back, because ignoring that guy was the best thing he could do. All he could do.
And doing that, he hears an amused laugh behind him.
What a fucking freak.