Chapter Text
The Coupris 40 funeral is a modest affair. Just two RCM officer and a Net Picker at a shore looking at almost completely sunken hunk of metal, with barely visible shades of blue, covered by a thick rust. Two of the local drunks, are standing nearby looking, respectfully, from a distance. One of them, the one in a colorful dirty tracksuit has greeted them, exclaiming happily:
“Hey, Tequila!”
The response he gets is: “Nah, I’m going by ‘Harry’ these days.”
Sad FM, flows quietly from a boombox, a simple white candle is burning, it’s flame tugged by the wind. Nobody quite knows how to act in face of such an occasion. Lilienne, not hiding a hint of amusement in her voice asks.
“A few words, officer?”
“Ok, lets keep is short.” Harry shifts his position to address (not quite) the crowd. “Down with the old, on with the new.” He turns back to face the wreck. “I’m sorry buddy. I can't fix this, but I can try to do better in the future.”
At that moment Kim is certain that this funeral is not for the old motor carriage, at least, not entirely. They just buried a person that Harrier Du Bois used to be.