"Very." Stein walks forward, as he moves past the people, sensing each of their souls. The town was full of people with no real personality, no real soul, as such. It was what one would call a theatrical dimension, where only the 'protagonist' is, in fact, fully sentient. A dimension bound to no rules besides those of the 'plot', the natural progression of such a world. Or at least, thus was Bob's theory on the matter. Stein simply saw an army of hollow puppets moving around, with a few real beings among them, oblivious to how hollow those in their surroundings truly were. 
"Bring me to your house, Kenny. I'm sure you'd like to be home." Stein had his scalpels up his coat sleeves, ready to slide out at a moment's notice. Within seconds he could be in battle stance. It was why Stein preferred the small, sharper blades. A sword or gun needs to be drawn and aimed. However, a scalpel is instantly in one's hand, slicing through flesh and bone like butter. An artist's tool.
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Mia moved through the forest, her goal already in mind. Her father didn't like to be disturbed in his work, and she was far too bored to sit around waiting for him. Instead, she'd surprise him with some of her art when he came back. And she knew just the people. A small group of people, powerful and weak. She'd bend them, and twist them, and when they snapped she'd turn them into beautiful art. The thought almost made her mouth water.
Mia stepped out from the brush, swiftly crossing the distance between her and Weiss, the nearest of the small group, moving in from behind. She gently took his head, turning him to watch her before he could utter a sound, and she gave him her most disarming smile, before pulling him away from the group into the bushes, he hand clasped over her mouth. A movement practised a hundred times, graceful and quick, a silent disappearance. In Weis's place is simply emply space, as if he had been transported magically, the perfect kidnapping.