[Her eyes move slow over the walls with their flaking white paint, bare brick exposed in leprous patches. She's trying to visualise what it could become were the walls a deep blue or a muted red or black as pitch-dark night...but this is new territory. All she can see is what is already there. She blows air through her lips, ruffling her mussed-up hair and clearing it back from her eyes. Who knew this shit was so complicated.]

I think you'd better. [She admits, although the physical act of painting sounds like it could be fun.] And you know, I didn't really think of that part. The desert has to be the best bet though, I kinda get the feeling that the people of Cadens don't follow the finders keepers rule about the bones of their dead. They'd probably be pretty pissed if we took a bunch from the cemetery