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Her last three words flutter across the inside of your mind, casting quick new shadows as they pass.

He slides right back into his old skin.

Unarmed, armed... high, disabled, maimed, dead -- there's nothing that could put Ramses off the job at this point.

What they did to him is the reason why he can't speak.

In his perennial lasciviousness, he's trying to throw a lifeline to his friend.

Behind the jokes, there's a seriousness -- it's their one true pleasure in life.

You can believe him or not, but the other pilots do, and they are eating their hearts out.

Should probably start apologising right now.

Just explain how sorry you are, find some common ground. She might even thank you for her recent career success.

Together in-theatre again -- the sweet slosh of nostalgia in the flooded basement of your brain.

The state of the Housing Campaign and the state of his life are one and the same.

This is only a philosophical conversation for one of you.

Not sarcasm. He's clearly proud of the depressing surroundings you find yourself in.

Tempo was a consummate appreciator of the finer things in life. Reno's treating this incarnation according to the rules of the man he already knew.

Silent treatment.

He'd give anything to hear Tempo call him a cunt just one more time.

No. You have HOLOCENE.

Is it also wearing... a tiny dressing gown?

Preparing to ram his plane of reality into yours.

Each sentence reads as if it was rehearsed for an already-nodding audience.

The clinical care of the descriptions is what chills you, the obsessive attention to each crew member's nuances and weaknesses.

Eyes meet across the cabin, the same terror and wonder reflected as metal screams around them.

And girls who want boys to leave them alone.

Embarrassment isn't the problem. A much darker feeling is trying to claw its way into her consciousness.

Behind her concern, a note of admiration, and a small shred of hope.

It's all that matters.

Frantic but resigned, exhausted by herself.

Differences of opinion in medical practice are just the tip of the iceberg here.

Inside the darkness of her silhouette, for a moment, you think you can make out her small dark eyes and sad, young features.

Is it a companion that he's looking for?

Torn between horror and desire.

Hard to tell what monkey emotions are, but those ear twitches seem relieved.

Or you have fundamentally misjudged the depth and nature of your friend's malaise.

The closest thing you've had to human touch in a long time.

But at what cost? To become the high arbiter of Human Capital, you no doubt have to trade in some of your own.

Unclear whether he's trying to convince himself of this or you.

A wound he is unable to sew shut.

A long while, by the sound of it.

He'd give nearly anything for an excuse to do just that.

You must understand that, he means, if you're going to understand what happens later.

The doctor's heart is a snowglobe, a thin glass shell surrounding a moment of perfect pain. You feel it in your hands now.

A weight appears to lift from his shoulders.

If it's a fairy tale, it's one he's either grown very tired of or never wanted to hear in the first place.

He briefly nurtured the hope that he'd simply misheard you. Now he must confront the reality that he's actually having a conversation with you.

You know it well -- the sensation of being formally fucked.

Psychic defenses engaged!

Something in him stirs. Some germ of the real doctor behind the porcelain mask.

Paired with self-loathing.

Wondering how long it's been since you took your medication.

432 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 3 of 9