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Sounds pretty 'off the books'... Eszti's going to be even more mad at you now.

She has yet to notice it's already stuck in.

For the first time -- just for the life and death of a second -- you see her as a fearful young girl, flinching at every movement outside the door.

He thinks he's going to stay there, too.

Trying to think of an insult. He doesn't like that your name is cooler than his.

He'd rather have the girl.

She's drinking from the same bottle, you're fine. Get her drunk, make conversation, see what guts she'll spill.

Everyone else here is actively avoiding him.

You would be well within your right to leave him down here.

They frequently lost fingers to frostbite in the Mircean winter, and wore their absence like trophies.

A little impressed, a little disturbed.

Underneath his speechifying you detect a melancholic tinge, a shadow on the mirror's surface.

Encoded by a frenzied hand.

Pride. He wants you to know he saw you enter the shack, and he wants you to know what you saw was his work.

The first genuine response you have elicited from him at all.

After all these years perhaps they've developed some notion of society, even religion. Open your mind to their theologies and they may accept you as their own.

A trace of concern. Lean into it.

Wow. A mega-blow. An all-in-one Hershel-ender.

There's more to it than that. Having a break wasn't her choice.

Women trained to elicit joy, to be polite and obliging, to please. It genuinely does nothing for him.

She's concerned, but she knows his limits.

'Why twist the knife?', his gaze seems to say.

Neither the friend you left behind years ago, nor the quivering wreck you found in his houseboat.

A small promise, remade and unkept a thousand times over. 'Tomorrow', he'd tell himself, until the word meant nothing.

He's not taking a no.

It was too much to hope that you were here without an agenda, but he had hoped.

He doesn't know Dr. Gonzalo E.S. Gonza.

Dr. Hugo did seem cagey, not the type to hand out drugs without going through a robust checklist.

Not a fleck of irony.

They have. Many people have.

He remembers every betrayal, every expression of horror when his target hears the mental click of the cage-door locking behind them.

A note of genuine disappointment. He wishes he could think better of his former employer.

Marginally impressed.

A name he'll never answer to again.

What is this man going on about?

All but calling you a traitor.

This woman is serially drawn to victims of world history. Septimus, KALEIDOSCOPE, you...

It's happy to see you again.

He'd happily sell drugs to you. He's just caught wind of an opportunity to get something out of you.

Lying to herself, even if she doesn't know it. This is subconscious spycraft.

The images come to you, one by one.

No, no, no. This isn't right. This can't be right.

147 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 3 of 3