Friendly Killer?

I look at the man for an explanation.

"I am a taxidermist," his relaxed back says nonchalantly while he made his way towards another door. he shoves the bag he was carrying into a random door in the wall. "You do humans too?" I ask uncertainly as turbid memories of my childhood surfaced. He looked surprised as he choked like a kid who was outsmarted at a game he thought he was winning, "You do know what taxidermists do?"

"I had to ask," I nervously look at the torso of a very dead deer mounted on a wall with a legion of rabbits and owls embellished around it, like a high priest had called for a gathering of his disciples, only dead.

I should be ashamed for doing what I was doing, but the word shame did not exist in my dictionary. I look at him. Lupin had amusement splayed over his face, his full lips parting to grin, "I was joking, this is my uncle's place."