The funeral was two days later. Between the high tensions running rampant and the increasing security going up all over Medea City, the sooner we had Osborn's funeral, the better.
Peelle had expected Evan to be freshly reminded of his rage and go wild again, but I chose my opportunity with care. Still pleasantly sleepy from the effects of the banshee weed tea but refreshed from a good night's rest, the next morning was the best time for me to deliver the news to Evan that we were going ahead with the final arrangements.
Osborn deserved better than to be sitting on a medical examiner's table to be checked again and again at Evan's behest. There was no more to find in him, no more clues, no more trails to track down and follow. He had done all the work he could in life as well as in death,
