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The veins in his eyes pre-pop in anticipation of what's about to happen.

No reflexive blink or retinal follow.

Around you, scattered pairs of eyes watch as you jiggle the shutter. Too many people around for a break-in.

He pulls at his ears, deranged with joy.

But definitely more ominous.

A sudden talisman. The last thing he gave up.

The thought of spying on you does seem to horrify her.

A tight, self conscious smile.

Approval. Pride.

The sort of serene, approachable expression that is considered key to 'good bedside manner'.

He did not directly answer your question.

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

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

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

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

But her body trembles with relief.

A sudden crack across the thin glass of trust.

Gauging you. Hard. A Mega Gauge.

A nod. Uncharacteristic gratitude.

Her safety catch flips to 'OFF'.

She has iced over with sarcasm.

Woah, kid never mentioned she's a medium!

Behind the black cigarette, the girl's features soften.

The watcher has abandoned his station.

The Liquidity Mage needs liquid.

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the labour trafficking, or just unaware of it.

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the imprisoning operation, or just unaware of its scope.

Radiating with grubby intent.

A glimpse of steel submerged behind his bloated jowls.

You're not dealing with the sharpest anything here, in case that needs to be said.

No part of him is even trying to actually pretend.

Absolute, unshakeable certainty.

But not dead he reckons, by the way his face curdles.

His jowels flap like a dog shaking off spittle.

Don't be fooled. He's making a mockery of you.

The big man was dozing off. Now he's trying to cover it up with a vulgar display of authority.

Expression unreadable, as if you've caught her on the fringes of a dream.

Followed up by looking around you, as if something else caught her attention.

He can't have just been waiting for you.

Almost like she's offended, or can't stand to look any longer.

Keeps her voice low, even, and her eyes downcast.

Matches a certain hustler near the roundabout who calls you baby-girl.

That description almost fits Ramses, though you wouldn't describe him as heavyset, just big.

Quiet scepticism as she re-assesses you.

No sign of grief, though she appears faintly sad to be the bearer of bad news.

Never drank himself.

It took him a long time to warm up to people, but once he did he was loyal to a fault.

Her eyes dart across your face, trying to find reassurance.

Like she's explaining to a simpleton.

276 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 3 of 6