VIII - What Remains
Jake downs some coffee, willing to help but not sure what they're looking for. "Hold up, Professor...what kind of 'use' are we talking about here? Getting in touch with the cannibal tribe - if there is a cannibal tribe, not just some kinda grave-robbing racket - working out where Bishop's hiding if him and his tunnel people didn't walk right into the cops, material for some paper of yours?"
There's enough of a smile to suggest the last bit's a joke, but he's still confused. "Only what I'm concerned with is having something to show Missus Hargrave - preferably that killer's teeth, but we never got so far. Am I...I dunno, I get the impression you'n Arthur know of something more specific going on, like...is this Agatha our Dracula, like she's gonna make another Top Hat and set it all up again, with her grunts killing girls when they get bored, or...?"
Jake waves his mug vaguely, ready to believe most things after getting used to the exanguinated walking dead. Then he actually sips the coffee, since disrupted sleep tends to haul the itch of addiction up near the surface and he wants a drink, badly enough that it'll take clear focus on a project to ignore what his body tries to convince him is a need.