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Looking past you, careful to keep an eye on his table.

Looking past you, keeping half a careful eye on Ignatz.

He didn't fully buy it. More.

Arms crossed, brow furrowed -- not a hint of paternal care.

The way he said 'service'... like he meant...

No need when your body language matches a spider as it stiffly curls up into a ball to die.

He grimaces, wearing the same look as when you asked him about the moon.

It's locked away deep inside, far away from the surface that he's comfortable presenting.

He hid it well. What else could he be hiding?

Mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

The universal sign for 'never heard of it'.

He's not surprised at all.

He's not bothered by you bringing this up.

He carries himself with straight shoulders, a confident posture, but his thick glasses hide a furry face twisted with anxiety.

Have you seen yourself? A solitary woman jabbering into a phone, repeating random words.

Unwelcome terrain. Tread lightly.

This is a woman who's planned countless 'perfect' murders in her idle hours.

She hesitates. Torn between two thoughts.

She hesitates. A little shy all of a sudden.

A glacial wind emanates from her.

Requesting assistance.

Her voice: tired, thin. She's been at her desk for many hours.

You hear her flip a notebook closed with a satisfying snap. That's the closest you're going to get to 'well done' on this one.

This is a robbery, not an assassination.

A spark of annoyance flashes into her expression of serene affability.

She tries to flutter her eyelashes, flirtatious and clumsy.

She nods at the other woman in the room with an air of admiration.

Heard? Sure, with her own ears, when she picked up the receiver.

The next two weeks flash before his eyes...

This little performance is for his own benefit.

The scene feels correctly blocked. You are gazing upwards at her. All is right with the world.

Her first real sleep in months, maybe years. Your voices won't wake her.

Catching the look in your eye, Septimus shifts his stance, weight on the back foot.

He bounces a little on the balls of his feet, considering combat.

Something about him has relaxed at this information, a performance partly abandoned.

His tone changes as your identity dawns on him -- wary, curious, teetering on the edge of hostile.

And Yana's favourite.

A metric tonne of silence falls between the two of you.

A metric tonne of silence falls between the three of you.

The smile of a girl visiting her grandmother on the dementia ward.

He tries to conceal a grin, and fails.

Mathematical and yet crude, the lines display a profoundly un-sober competence.

A look of vague terror spreads across his face.

A lump that immediately recedes into the background wherever he stands.

Behind the white blue of his eyes, a rapid recalibration is occurring.

Not some kind of bluff. Genuine.

A light glows beneath the pale ice of his eyes.

The man's pale blue eyes have drifted somewhere beyond you.

276 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 4 of 6