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Probably just a dirty old man, enlisting the bartender in his pick-up scheme.

Offended that you'd mistake her for someone's wing-woman.

She doesn't give it a second thought.

Mercifully not insisting on your name. She knows her audience.

She's too proud to ask for help, but she'd gladly take it.

Not her place to eavesdrop.

An old hand at hearing other people's problems, and displaying just enough sympathy to make them feel listened to.

Something about the woman in the photo doesn't match the person standing in front of her now.

He doesn't seem the murdering type. But you can never rule anything out.

Beneath all the charm could lurk a stone-cold killer. Approach with caution.

Nicer than any cop had the right to be. Still, he believed in the cause -- your cause.

He was a friendly face she barely remembers.

It's as if you just told her a secret, the same secret she has kept for many of her patrons.

She suspects the answer is 'now'.

She's just happy you took the hint -- she truly doesn't want to dwell on this.

He'd cover you if you whined about it, but only if he was already getting one for himself.

And your work made her lie to him, betray his trust. He could sense the distance growing between them, but could not bridge the gap.

An attempt to spare your feelings.

The thought should probably make you sadder than it does. But there's a hollow where your memory of him sits.

Product of her generation. She knew how to keep herself to herself.

She won't say what she really thinks of him. Not yet.

An uncomfortable reminder of his assumed familiarity with you.

She'd almost prefer if he just tried to assault her. She's used to that.

Without the long lens of the camera between you, she suddenly seems horribly normal.

No, a true nobody. Dragged unwillingly into another world.

It is, but only in the saddest, most mundane of ways.

Through the cracks in her indifference, horror starts to leak out.

Through the cracks in her indifference, horror starts to leak out.

He's not dead. Maybe asleep. Or wriggled elsewhere.

Just think what you need to say really loudly. He's you, maybe he'll pick up on it.

He's never been away from them for this long before.

This is useless. This man has only one thing on his mind.

Definitely not your style.

Not many would stoop so low as to use their daughter's suffering as a bargaining chip.

A bottle of expensive schnapps like the one he lost may change his mind...

Whatever makes him weep, it's not from the past year -- it runs much deeper.

He clearly doesn't believe that's possible, even as he says it.

Tempo had that effect on his surroundings. Often spoken about, rarely seen -- unless he had a use for you.

He really wants you to believe that.

Whatever he's hiding, it isn't pleasant... It destroyed something in him.

Even if he doesn't like it, his position gives him purpose, direction. Sometimes that's enough.

You don't need interests to make you interesting.

He means to insult you. But he has manners enough to get your permission first.

His soft heart has had to learn to nestle among wilder things.

Detecting low levels of 'It' here. Seems his return hasn't solved that particular problem at all.

There is no undercover. This is just Ramses, doing what he does.

He's got something for you. Ears on your enemies.

Silently, he asks you to trust him.

Gone. Just gone. It was insanity to bring him on a hit.

The likelihood that he is playing a cover instead of having merely lost the plot drops by the sentence.

1,054 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 11 of 22