“What do you plan to do with that?” She looks up at me, letting her tongue swipe her lips. “We can’t exactly leave it, so I figured I could keep it.” “It’s not a lost puppy. You don’t get to take it home.” She pouts. “Serial killers keep trophies all the time.” “Yeah, and how does that turn out for them?” I snip. “But . . . but Van Gogh doesn’t have any ears.” She shoots me a playful smirk. I sigh. “Fine, you can keep the ear.”
