OOM: welcome back to the Warehouse

[claudiometer]

Even with an active case, there's no shortage of things to do in the Warehouse; Claudia was walking the fine line between stirring up too much dust to be useful and feeling like she was sitting around doing nothing, but she needs a break. Unfortunately, it looks like that break includes the Corpse Groom in person

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[claudiometer]

Claudia grins. "Okay? This is what I'm saying!"
...Okay, so the reconstructiony bit was sort of a last-minute addition, once she knew she was testing this thing out on an apparent victim of Trogdor the Burninator. But it works! And you can't get that from the body alone - not this quickly, anyway.
(.......and okay so maybe it's a better likeness with the added detail from scanning the body. BUT WHO'S COUNTING.)

[doyousmellfudge]

"Wow," Artie murmurs. "Okay, just--" He drops the scanner and reaches for the stack of dossiers he pulled from the Warehouse archives. This has to be a close match for at least one of the photographs...

[claudiometer]

It better be, anyway; Claudia doubts they're going back far enough with this guy's death to be in the pre-camera era. (And even if they were, this is the Warehouse. They probably had a camera before Louis Daguerre did.)
"Kinda cute, for an old-timey guy."

[doyousmellfudge]

"No... no... no..." Artie pulls dossiers off the stack in his arms and sets them aside as they are eliminated from the running. He stops dead at the second-to-last one on the pile, holding up the photograph to compare it with the hologram. Square jaw, thin lips, wide straight nose bridge... it's a match.

"Welcome back to the Warehouse... Jack Seacourt."

[claudiometer]

So now there's a name to the face (and corpse). Huzzah!
Which means they have to go to another part of the Warehouse to look for... something Artie hasn't told her what, yet. At least she's got Jack's dossier to pass the time, right?
"Joined the Marines in '48, recruited to the Warehouse in '55. Last known location, Minneapolis. That's a long way from Saint Louie, Louie."

[doyousmellfudge]

At the end of the corridor is a heavy metal door. Next to it is a dial--an actual numbered dial like a rotary telephone--into which Artie dials four numbers he jotted down on a scrap of paper earlier. As lights flicker and machinery groans and clanks behind the door, Artie tosses a handful of something plastic at Claudia. "Here. Put these on."

[claudiometer]

Okay, she was expecting the purple rubber gloves, those are just par for the course around here. But are the head thing and shoe things really necessary?
"Aww, what, are we going into surgery?"

[doyousmellfudge]

"Just do as you're told, please," says Artie, pulling his own set on.

In short order, the machinery grinds to a halt. Artie opens the door and flicks on a light switch. The room beyond is a bedroom, warmly lit and filled with cozy if out-of-date furnishings.

"Jack Seacourt, living quarters, personal effects. Sealed 6-22-62."

[claudiometer]

Oh, she does it, she just isn't sure what the point--
...
"Holy bed and breakfast, Batman, this is Leena's."

[doyousmellfudge]

"No, no, this is the Warehouse," says Artie. "But yes. This is room 5 of the Bed and Breakfast, but it's still the Warehouse. See, whenever a Warehouse agent--if he disappears, if he dies, especially if--hey, are you listening to me?"

[claudiometer]

"Yeah."
Just because it hasn't looked like it until now doesn't mean she hasn't been paying attention, in alongside the boggling.

[doyousmellfudge]

"If he dies mysteriously," Artie continues, "then, y'know, living quarters, personal effects, they're collected, they're preserved, right here."

Which means that if they go through said living quarters and personal effects, they just might find a clue or two that will explain how Mr. Seacourt died, and possibly what this Artifact is.

[claudiometer]

Claudia would imagine a good place to start, in a case like this, is the desk. So she does, opening with the cigarette case.
"So he smoked..." Then she tries a drawer... which turns out to be full of cigarette packs. It's like that thing she found on Youtube a while back where they guy's cupboards were full of cookie mix.
"...A lot." Ew.

[doyousmellfudge]

"Hey, it was the sixties," says Artie, who's on the far side of the room rifling through the dresser drawers. "Everybody smoked."

[claudiometer]

Makes it no less gross, in Claudia's opinion.
She tries the next drawer down, and finds... "What's this?"
A cigar box, maybe? (Just what the dude needed, more tobacco.) Only way to find out is open it.

[doyousmellfudge]

"What's what?"