[ The skeleton isn't even the hard part, not by Jimmy's estimation—open enough doors around here and one's guaranteed to tumble out. Or the wine cellar, that's practically a skeleton's natural habitat.
But enough hypotheticals, time to get practical. ] It's snowing. [ He points out, flapping an arm at the window. ] Okay, well. Your junk, your call. I guess.
[ Jimmy's not the kind of maniac who just has a knife on hand, let alone some kind of trunk-bashing implement. So it's nearing the ten-minute mark when the bachelorette party's merriment abruptly turns to silence, then drunken chaos: shrieks, squabbling, clinking bottles and stumbling. Some of the women are alarmed; others seem to find this turn of events hilarious.
Once everyone's cleared out, there's the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, followed by some inexpert prying at the chest's lid—so far only successful enough to admit a small wedge of light. ] You in there, buddy? [ Jimmy's voice is hushed, tight with exertion. ]
-- > action
But enough hypotheticals, time to get practical. ] It's snowing. [ He points out, flapping an arm at the window. ] Okay, well. Your junk, your call. I guess.
[ Jimmy's not the kind of maniac who just has a knife on hand, let alone some kind of trunk-bashing implement. So it's nearing the ten-minute mark when the bachelorette party's merriment abruptly turns to silence, then drunken chaos: shrieks, squabbling, clinking bottles and stumbling. Some of the women are alarmed; others seem to find this turn of events hilarious.
Once everyone's cleared out, there's the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, followed by some inexpert prying at the chest's lid—so far only successful enough to admit a small wedge of light. ] You in there, buddy? [ Jimmy's voice is hushed, tight with exertion. ]