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The cramped houseboat crossed in a single anxious stride.

He could sell it to them as a win.

The days are gone, only hours remain.

Seems agitated. You're probing a sensitive spot.

That the man is associated with the foreign fascist secret police does not phase him.

Playing that thing on a radio station? Metaphysical nuke.

A communal painting on the courtyard wall of a lunatic asylum.

Life is sad. That's the reason. Starts sad, gets sadder.

Long-submerged dreams of popstardom float to the surface of your consciousness like drowned corpses.

He's made up his mind.

The toys always seem to die horribly.

You'd take a week of the Weeping Eye fiddling with you over five years down here.

After a certain point the logic of betrayal becomes its own motive.

Surely there's a lift to get out of this silo. Not the stairs every time... Surely...

He's weighing it up against his current living situation.

You are pre-entombed.

A genius of pain.

Remain calm. Stay on target.

Remember -- you tower above all of this.

What have you done, Hershel?

Your own words in someone else's mouth. Deeply upsetting.

He wants to transcend suspicion and lies. And if everything's fucked anyway, what harm is there in trying?

For most people, this would be a severe blow to their confidence. But not you -- a professional shit-taker.

You're not equipped to deal with this kind of blow. There's no controlling how this makes you feel.

Your old double has been known to have an unsettling effect on certain people.

A tremor in his voice. Like a kid addressing his crush.

Like millions of capillaries feeding a single, bloated vein.

A sudden, bizarre flare of hope.

Keep your gun close.

You should be armed right now. This was a mistake.

Savour this moment. One of the old ones of your craft is asking for your opinion.

La la la. What's the old man on about? You can't hear anything.

You brought that one on yourself.

'With you'... the words echo down the hollow of your body.

The advance guard.

That is... oddly satisfying.

This is horrible. This just makes you want drugs even more.

You can almost see the spine rip itself out the back of him and slither off.

Once you've learned to enjoy your own horror, the world is a different kind of oyster.

All systems go down. A brief but total outage.

You would have stayed had you known. You would have rescued her.

Shit, bluff called. What is she into?

It will have to be. You've come too far.

A combination of anaesthesia and mettle just about manage to contain his fear.

Stay calm. Even if the Opera's purposes dovetail with those of the Weeping Eye, it makes no difference to your mission.

98 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 2 of 2