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A look of vague terror spreads across his face.

Discrepancy found.

'One' meaning 'Reno', of course. Singular.

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

His eyes well up as he turns his back to you, gently cuddling the model train. His shoulders rise and fall as he sighs.

Grey suggests a man who cuts corners in life and business.

Said without a trace of pride.

This cat thing must be really upsetting him. He's lost it.

It's hard for him to remember.

The cleaners must be really upsetting him. He's lost it.

They moved out before garbage collection day, hoping to avoid another fine stacked atop the broken lease, the lost deposit, the month's rent half-wasted...

Old clothes, soft on your hands from repeated washings and cheap detergents. Plastic toys, delight outgrown.

In the end, the outcome was the same: a flurry of packing, a quick shuffle of locks and keys in the dark.

It all happened very quickly, once they'd made the decision to leave. In that moment, the priorities seemed clear.

Approximately 25 items are missing from the count of Operant CASCADE's possessions following her extradition from Portofiro in 91. Due to failure to keep up with requests for a formal inventory, the exact number of CASCADE's lost / forsaken belongings remains officially unknown.

You can feel the value in their heft. It's a tribute to his pomade that there isn't a permanent dent in his hair from wearing these things.

Maybe they do... You wouldn't know. Operant CASCADE has yet to turn around a 'success'.

The world mutes utterly. It's like being smothered by the future.

Still, a part of him was hoping for a little more out of their private journey.

You've asked him to part with the feather from an angel's wing.

Good choice. But he's dictating a lot of terms here.

Bring a gun. He will.

Apart from the girl around which it is built.

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

Alongside fear... and RESPECT.

A face flashes on the underside of your mind -- expression stern behind a black cigarette. Yana needs to agree to this too.

A whole career cast off in a single moment.

And possibly a whole life.

It's not Ultra Violeta who must agree to this, but her custodian, Yana.

There's a friendship to sidestep first. Yana won't agree to this easily.

It's not. More favourable would be a clean trade, the prisoner for the girl.

Poor prick's so far gone he doesn't even knöw himself.

He keeps them on. He keeps them on!

He could try. But all his bullets are in your pocket.

A vague threat. Should've disarmed him.

Not some kind of bluff. Genuine.

Almost tripped by your own shadow.

It was too early for PSEUDOPOD to be in-theatre alone. The Opera failed him.

And to think... you rubbed that bald spot for luck. Seems he had zero of that stat to begin with.

More than a trace of envy.

Didn't Ultra Violeta herself mention a missing recording engineer?

A light glows beneath the pale ice of his eyes.

Did you forget? You're dealing with a mega fan here. He's so attuned to her creative wavelength he's phasing out.

Own goal. Then an early bath.

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

Yeah, from the child protection feds when they booked him for nöncery.

The Militia Ruban Rouge, or M.R.R., an extreme communist fringe group who have slipped further and further into darkness over their ten year 'campaign'.

Okay, good to know. There are worse friends than you out there.

Next up, eradication.

2,903 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 41 of 59