<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/4b/02/42/4b024225317d660c10c1354e6c9c80be.jpg)</div>Well, crap. Not that she'd expected the Sorcerer's Stone or something (the real one, not the Potter knockoff), but Tara still found herself a little disappointed. Not that she'd have known what to do with actual Stone itself. But simple answers were the easiest. Yes. No. Fuck off. Colonel Mustard in the hot tub with the poppet. The gorgeous ginger had really given her more questions, some of which she didn't really care about right then.<br/><br/>"Let's leave the ethics out for now, please. Mechanics are a lot more grody. I...my friend doesn't have any runes on her she didn't put there herself. Somebody could have looked her in the eyes, maybe, say at a party, or spiked her punch and put a whammy on her, I guess." In fact, the last was basically what had happened, but she'd known the punch was spiked. That's why she'd drunk it. Duh?<br/><br/>"The poppet thing, though. Isn't that what a lot of normies call a voodoo doll?" You'd think she had cursed- loudly- from the couple of scandalized breaths in reaction to those words. So Outcasts could be as snobby and stuck-up as normies. Bit shock. "Would it have to be made<em>before </em>she died? Couldn't, like, a paramedic grab what he needed when they picked her up? Or the coroner?  My buddy's still missing a few pieces. I mean, so long as she was still more or less warm?" Had she  been?  Warm?  She'd been in the water a<em>long</em>time before anyone had noticed her. Fucking snowflakes.<br/><br/>Rotating in place, she gave the Goth who'd asked about love potions a broad sideways wink. "And if you need lust potions, you're doing something wrong, dude. We'll talk."<br/><br/>Folding her arms, she turned her attention back to Merryweather.