Decisions
50You reach blindly over the lip of the drawer, your fingers touching what feels like wrapping paper.
That doesn't fly any longer. 'Market trends' were the reason the silk factories closed down, according to Carmuna.
Price tags rustle beneath your fingers.
This would definitely outfuck that other coat she was going on about.
You return to the rack of clothing.
You sift through the rack once, twice. Nothing catches your eye.
Your arm would fit through the gap beneath the lock.
"Discount for you, menina."
"No rack for you! Pay up."
Let the Boatman know you're in the Weeping Eye's sight: it may twist his arm.
Let the Boatman know you're in the Weeping Eye's sight: it may twist his arm.
Let the Boatman know you're in the Weeping Eye's sight: it may twist his arm.
Look at these clothes -- she wouldn't know gare in a circus. It's absolutely the same man.
Not impressive, then. Pathetic, in fact. A consolation order.
Prayers won't help. Let the Boatman know you're in the Weeping Eye's sight: it may twist his arm.
She is a truly appalling judge of men's characters. How is she still alive?
You heard some lyrics too, try singing them.
"Afraid not, menina. That poor girl."
"Carmuna a thief? Coming from you? Ridiculous."
"Carmuna has no ghost! Carmuna lives!"
"Carmuna knew once." She shrugs. "But these days, it is a mystery."
"Carmuna saw you scaling that pylon, speaking to the creep at its top. He's been spying on us all, day in day out. Are you in leagues with him? What is his business?"
"Carmuna saw you scaling the pylon. But she did not see the creep fall to his death..."
"Carmuna told you -- the man-tailor in Party Alley. His shop is in the arches."
"Don't forget to check the racks."
"Don't you be getting any more ideas! Hands off my racks."
"Go see about that aerial creep up there, and Carmuna will tell you more about your nice boy."
"He is creeping. Keeping watch on behalf of Polaris knows who. Monitoring our wares, espying our comings and goings. Carmuna will tell you all about your nice boy if you go find out why."
"Hello." she does not look up.
"Hello." she does not look up.
"No time for chitchat, menina."
"Poor man! Yes! Carmuna heard people saying that he may have been drinking again, but never believed it. Not for a moment."
"Some comfort in return. Not that Carmuna has forgotten you came here with questions. Ask away."
"Sounds like you were hussing."
"Tempo's assistant. Carmuna never said anything about her being a hussy. Always liked her. Haven't seen her for a few days, now. Must be hiding. Polaris protect her!"
"That poor thing."
"Thieving, again."
"Yes?"
"You already bought the most teen thing on the rack, menina. The musical t-shirt, yes?"
"You can talk!"
"You poor thing, menina. He was a dear friend to Carmuna, too."
"You! Carmuna demands answers."
"You're working with that nice boy? He was fine Superbloc suet. I should have known you were cut from the same cow the way you handled that creep."
Wheeling and dealing with Carmuna!
Carmuna? Her voice sounds much younger but otherwise the same -- this is the old woman from the bazaar, long ago.
If you had the right recording of 'Superbloc, Baby', you'd be able to detonate this bomb...
Carmuna? Her voice sounds much younger but otherwise the same -- this is the old woman from the Bazaar, long ago.
The coat. It's a recent acquisition.
"Do you remember a song called 'Superbloc, Baby'?"
You see him now -- eyes wide, reward circuit shorted out by the cut and thrust of commerce.
