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Help him to part with the train part.

One feels too little -- the other feels far too much.

You could prey on his obvious weakness: alcohol.

Definitely that twitchy young man hooked to the payphone. The name fits.

Reno might thank you for fixing his prized train.

Besieged by failures in work and love, each of his attempts to resolve one immediately defeated by an agony from the other.

You know the feeling.

On speaking her name, his face softens, looking almost youthful.

A tremendous sadness courses through him.

Touching. The kind of bond only two pigs can share.

Carmuna would be proud.

He radiates pure worry. She might as well be his own child.

But she deserves to know, doesn't she?

A tinge of affection.

Base it in fact. He won't believe it otherwise.

You don't have any photographs like this. You don't even know this many people.

It certainly appears she's pulled it off.

Eszti never mentioned a family of her own, but it looks like she's married into a huge one.

Love's most ardent champion.

There is rat shit everywhere. You're going to get rabid.

All traces of fear, gone.

Does he remind you of her? Another victim of techno-fascist wizardry, not here of his own volition.

More importantly, why do you feel that way?

He really isn't.

His voice breaks. The audible beat of a shattered heart.

Tell yourself who you are.

He doesn't believe you.

Do you have a choice, Hershel?

A new belonging.

You miss them all terribly, for a moment. Or maybe you miss being lost among them.

Amused by her own obscurity.

A joke. They don't care about 'winning'.

Portofiro has been like this since before they were born. They can't remember a different world -- but the song brings it to them.

Excitement high enough to render danger irrelevant.

Half-laughing, as if firearms are ridiculous at a conceptual level.

The moments where you knew each other best.

What is Melita doing right now? Is it in any way related to you? And if it's not related to you, is she maybe daydreaming of you a little bit?

Your character is a woman chronically obsessed with her own pain, a cripple, almost, but one who filters it all through an engine of language.

What can't be forged: The surge of all-engulfing sadness you feel as your hand rests on the page.

In short: Born capitalist, reborn communist.

Apologise to Eszti.

Apologise to Eszti's husband.

Teens do not like being given things. They prefer to take.

Just one more customer she won't have to deal with again.

A similarity she hasn't ignored.

Not her business, not her problem.

Not 'why'd you leave', blessedly. She knows her audience.

Your defensiveness makes her cagey. Try to cool it.

1,054 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 10 of 22