Gryphon Leayek {{ District 6 (FIN)

There are only three rules one must know to run an organ harvesting funeral home.

1) Be polite at all times.
2) Never tell
3) If you are going to puke, do not do it on the carpets.

Obsession, hobby, unethical family business, whatever you want to call it. Any way you spin it, it boils down to the same thing. We are good at what we do, and we're even better at keeping our mouths shut. Emotion is our putty, and when people arrive all dressed up in black and with grief clinging to their shoulders we are there, with a dolled up corpse and a grim smile plastered onto our faces.

Death is something special, and it puts a smile on my face that the people of this District think of it as a bad thing. Ha! If they only realized what a glorious thing it was. It's inevitable, special, and it can be taken advantage of. But there's only a select few that no that, and they're the smart ones.

My family just happens to be some of the people who realize it.

Truthfully, it started out as an honest business, started by my great great grandfather or whoever. He understood death, understood what it brought with it, and he wanted nothing more than to let the dead have a final burial, and to truly rest in peace.

Makes me sick. The old bastard should've known that a pile of corpses wouldn't pay the bills.

And that's exactly what happened, the bills started to pile up and the business, passed down oh so delicately from father to son, was sinking just like the bodies they buried. That's when my father acquired it, and all of it's musky, dingy, death filled glory. He got the burden of it exactly when it was in desperate need of a revamp. And revamp he did, because he threw all morals and ethics out the window, cleaned up the place and cleaned up our acts. He brought more than just family in, and he thrust the business into something dark, sinister, and something that pays the bills when times get tough. 

You see, organs tend to go for a high price in the black market of District Six, and when you put two and two together, our family has an unlimited supply of organs. And so, we made a name for ourselves in the streets, where the drug dealers mingled and where everything that couldn't go on in the day went on anyways. 

Me? I'm just a pretty face, one that can manipulate a smile into a hug of sympathy and grief. Death is my gun, and sympathy is my bullet. For digging up the bodies? We have people for that. For making the body look pretty for the casket? We have people for that. For pulling organ from body? We have people for that. And for making sure everything runs smoothly when a death stricken, vulnerable family comes to visit their dolled up corpse?

They have me.

Because there is one eternal rule at the Leayak Funeral Home.

The clients come first, and the organs come second.