Zane sat on the couch in his small apartment, hat resting on his knee with a beer propped up atop the other. Dark eyes were locked onto a small velvet pouch which waited on the coffee table in front of him. He could still smell the accursed Voodoo Man on the item; his sickly sweet scent of spices and incense mixed with the gag inducing smell of rotting flesh clung stubbornly to the item. The gunslinger seemed impartial to the foul odor. In fact, he seemed entirely unaware of his surroundings. The window was opened just a crack, blowing in cold air that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The door was threatening to fly open with the powerful gusts of wind that pummeled against it, since Zane hadn't secured it shut.

A few candles were lit and their flames flickered and swayed, dangerously close to extinguishing or setting something ablaze. The fire hazard along with the other uncomfortable elements went on without interruption as he stared intently at the pouch. After taking a swig of his beer Zane leaned forward, setting it and his hat down on the table so he could snatch up the small velvet vessel. It was pulled shut by a drawstring, the color darker than the faded red of the pouch itself. He pulled to open it and held out his hand, tilting the pouch over to spill the contents into his outstretched palm.

Finger bones, beads, feathers, and what looked like a sharpened rock fell into his grasp. He dropped the pouch and leaned back, fingers brushing the contents curiously as they sat in his hand. The bones and feathers were passed over without pause and eventually spilled onto the table after he grabbed the small stone with his other hand. The item was lifted up to be inspected by a dark eye, it's surface bumpy but smoothly so, the edges sharpened to fine blades. Testing its sharpness, Zane pressed the point into his thumb and watched as a bead of blood pooled up and dripped down.