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Distemper is not a human disease.

He did not directly answer your question.

He would rather talk about anything else.

Your flippant misunderstanding has hit a nerve. It's not the first time he's been dismissed this way.

There's no telling what Gonza's behavioural baseline is.

Under the air of affected dismissal, the accusation cuts.

It wouldn't be terribly hard to fetch it yourself later tonight. A little breaking-and-entering practice, for old time's sake...

We could leave it here -- the man is clearly using it to fill a sad, sad hole. Just have to figure out what to tell Gonza...

Any legitimate medical usage that thing may have is a secondary purpose.

A subtle shift in his position... he's mould curious. Continue.

Hooked. This guy's a mould man through and through.

Doctor Gäng is in.

PSEUDOPOD will not be exposed, nor will you.

As he pronounces the name 'Gonza', a hair-tingling scream echoes along the canal.

Probably unconnected.

A nod declaiming any and all liabilities for whatever befalls you there.

No ambulances, no hospitals, no cops.

Without his meds, the outside world might as well be one big giant seizure-inducing machine. You're not getting Ramses all the way over here without at least one dose to level him out.

A mantra repeated.

You can see the resemblance now. Karolina has his eyes.

Behind him, shelves heaving with medical textbooks.

It's always hard to let one of the gäng go, especially when it's an effigy of an absent child.

It's always hard to let one of the gäng go.

You shook him up. He needs a little time to recover. Try again later.

You do not. Emotional liabilities become operational liabilities.

She can't bear the thought. You shoved her into this -- you alone will follow it through.

In fact, you haven't heard it since you got here.

Push her, now. Get this over the line.

But her body trembles with relief.

BEAUTIFULLY PLAYED. ANOTHER YOUNG MIND TURNED.

But her voice trembles with relief.

Fuck it. We make our own ways.

A sudden crack across the thin glass of trust.

Gauging you. Hard. A Mega Gauge.

The pit of your stomach curls. You tense it back down.

Two aero-trams criss-cross somewhere above you. The apartment's windows rattle in their frames.

Her pupils narrow to slits.

You dust off and briefly consult your topographical maps of the Teenage Psychosphere. It remains as wondrous and enigmatic as you left it.

Even her friends are wavering, it seems. Not as real as they used to be.

She's concerned about Marco? The espionage voyeur?

A nod. Uncharacteristic gratitude.

Her safety catch flips to 'OFF'.

THIS UN-RE-EDUCATED YOUTH MUST BE MADE TO FEEL THE FULL WEIGHT OF TERROR BEHIND THOSE SIX LETTERS.

No backhanded retort, no reflexive insult.

And yet... doesn't it chime a distant chord? The Luzian political elite being strange copies of themselves...

A weave of city away, the being formerly known as PSEUDOPOD twitches in his dream.

Just what on earth has Tempo encircled you in here?

2,870 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 24 of 58