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Militaristic Kitchen
"The Cannibalistic Cooker?" Seth asks out loud, cringing silently with the torn piece of paper in his hands. 'What a cheesy name...' He thinks to himself, examing who was on the paper closely. Only known as the Cannibal, he has a crooked nose, sharp facial features with a gaunt expression to his face, dried lips against long strands of hair coming across his jaw and chin, no hair on top of his head. "So, he cooks people he's killed and serves it to people as a chef?"
"That's about right," Nixon affirms, poking at the fire before them. "Is she gonna stay far away from the campfire, or what?" Nixon asks Tsuki, sitting near the campfire while a Japanese woman lays out in the snow a few feet away, covered in a thick pile of bear pelts, her long silky black hair spreading across the snowy canvas below her.
"She's hated foreigners ever since she was almost raped by one so she's sort of hostile with anyone who looks even remotely Russian, i.e. you, Nixon."
"That
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