While personally Jim enjoyed the roaring power of the heavy chain cleaver as it tore apart flesh, muscle and just about anything else that got in the way of the blades, the boning sword had its own charms and benefits. Sure it required a bit more work on the part of the wielder in order to make proper use of it, but in encouraged a finesse in action instead of the brutal style that the cleaver seemed to demand. Of course, the fact that the boning sword was a great deal easier to maintain without the involvement of third parties to get parts, 'misplace' from the equipment roster in the first place or alert the hub block that someone was being dismembered with an almighty roar when all you want is a quick and easy meal on the way home.

It also preserved more of the body, since a quick clean slice with the boning sword encouraged one to aim for somewhere vital on the opening strike rather then mincing the body as one turns it into a corpse. Sometimes the Patrician of Butchery [i]desired[/i] a more bloody, messy kill as an offering in and of itself, but this time wasn't such a case. 

All things considered it hadn't been as satisfying a kill as either Jim or the Patrician had desired. The hive scum in question had tried to mug him as he had traveled through the darkened hallway leading to his small living space and discovered far to late who was [i]actually[/i] in danger. It was clear from the manner she talked, the way that she twitched and the state of her teeth that she was a hopeless addict of one or more dangerous substances who had still been riding her latest fix before she had tried her ill fated life of crime. This was... [i]problematic[/i]. While it was possible to cleanse the meat of such impurities, between the location of the kill and the resources he had access to, properly preparing the dying chemhead's meat for consumption (either for pleasure or ritual purposes) wasn't possible. Better she end up becoming corpse starch.

Just as he had been about to continue along his way, the Patrician spoke up. Call it a request, commandment or order but what it wanted was clear; For the dying woman's guts to be spilled as she tried to breath through a windpipe that had been gashed open. Kicking aside the poorly kept, blood soaked pistol that she had dared to try and use against him, all it took was a twitch of a wrist and the cloth and flesh that was holding in her insides gave way. Blood, gore, organs and other substances spilled out onto the dirty metal floor... and both Jim and the Patrician were captivated by the sight of them. 

At first Jim didn't really understand why the sight was so enchanting... but soon the Patrician started to show him the meaning of what he was seeing. The message in the offal for the both of them. An invitation of sorts for the Patrician and his Butcher. This meeting would require some traveling to get too... as well as having to cash in whatever goodwill he had built up so that he could disappear from work for a time and still expect a job when he returned; Thankfully he had actually gotten ahead of the quota which would make that process a bit easier. 

With an annoyed sigh, Jim turned away from the waste of flesh and continued his journey to his small, cramped box in order to lay down and get some rest before he answered the call from persons unknown, but the Patrician was interested and thus it was worth investigating.