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You've got this. Play it cool. Act like you've been here before.

Awaiting your signal.

That, you know to be true.

Nothing in her eyes.

Anxious disposition. Cold sweat. Likely stomach problems. It's all there...

What's the problem, can't take a little 'bad death'? Look inside.

Smiling, but her voice is hard.

He's perfectly aware you're not from around here, much less a cop.

Keep clear of the nails! One swipe and she could open your jugular.

Keep clear of the nails! One swipe and she could open your jugular.

He's not choking, but something similar to it. Something that has lowered his lung capacity to half.

A shudder passes through you from the sheer pleasure of his company.

If orgasm is 'the little death', then death is the big orgasm.

You'd say 'eerie'. An eerie moment.

There is, however, a response from within.

A little bell inside goes 'ding-ding'.

But imagining that it is could certainly make them less intimidating, at least in your head.

A lurch of tedium at the name alone.

This is slow work, but it is logical. A methodical siege on a lunatic fortress.

You do not want this to end in a close quarters gunfight. If you can help it.

He can't bring himself to use the word 'incarcerated' in the same sentence as his daughter.

He's never felt such freedom.

He'd be eyeing the top shelf liquor, daring it to try.

You first among their number, for reasons you could never quite put your finger on.

You didn't hear the word 'no' in there.

Summits of derision, mesas of lust, valleys of tedium and miscommunication, ever-enchanted with an opaque mist of technicolour neurochemicals.

Staring you down. Hasn't blinked in some time.

The past descends with talons.

A slow yet inevitable evolution to its terrifying final form: a legitimate bank.

A shudder passes through you.

Like a rock struck by lightning, she remains solid though her molecular structure has been altered.

His insult does nothing. You are a steel wall that cannot be affected by mere words.

Not a second of hesitation, doubt, or curiosity. You couldn't fake that kind of acceptance if you tried.

You have merely been living 'Hearing Impaired Romero'. Time to crank the volume.

And what was it that killed the cat...?

Even if he's not the man she knew anymore, she doesn't know if she can bear to see him hurt again.

He is going to remember what you say next for a long time.

These implications have never occurred to him before. Now he won't be able to un-think it.

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.

81 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual