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It's not obliviousness, at least not primarily-- there's something else holding him back..

It's like watching all the worst parts of yourself bound up in a male body -- and an ugly one, to boot.

This tradition is sacred to him.

Instead of a vegetable, you've created a man in a perpetual psychotic break. And now he's robbing random pedestrians.

The irreverent self-image of a trickster people, eternal underdogs.

The one that looks just like yours.

She shivers, smiles. Trying to dispel an unwanted thought.

A lost cause. He's not going to budge on this one.

He doesn't think it's for the best at all. Part of him is still hoping that the visions will arrive, albeit late.

Read between the logistical acrobatics -- he just really wants to work with you again.

There is a new mutedness to him, and new shadows too.

That childhood book has a strange grip on him, even now.

Woah, woah, woah, easy! That nickname is offensive and unapproved.

You hurt his feelings.

He's taking this seriously. You should too.

Snagged on a memory. A pleasant one.

Afflicted by that odd loneliness that comes from seeing and knowing a lot that you can't do much about.

Everyone else here is actively avoiding him.

Better to go along with this. You'll have a stronger chance of pulling him clear of this psychological wreckage.

He's hurt by that direct accusation, even though it's his own working theory.

You would be well within your right to leave him down here.

Surely you'll be able to tell which is Eszti's drawer from the contents? Cigarette butts, poker chips, crochet patterns...

Eszti, married? This can only be a desperate attempt to blend in. Not like a real husband.

You know this isn't better, that's why you didn't choose it for yourself.

Still nothing. This is who you chose to save.

He's trying his best to trust you.

Callous... but KALEIDOSCOPE did murder him.

Hershel... Now he's going to lose his mind trying to activate nonexistent beetle powers.

They frequently lost fingers to frostbite in the Mircean winter, and wore their absence like trophies.

You can practically feel the fetid water sloshing about his feet.

A little impressed, a little disturbed.

He phrases it like he's asking if you'll be over for tea next week. It doesn't hide his desperation.

Underneath his speechifying you detect a melancholic tinge, a shadow on the mirror's surface.

Even through the distorted connection, you can feel him weighing his next words.

She's not yet entirely convinced that you are 'normal people'.

He wouldn't have willingly given up a career that meant so much to him.

He misses this version of her the most.

Rendered a non-person for her betrayal.

Encoded by a frenzied hand.

With fear, or maybe rage that the past should repeat itself so shamelessly.

Pride. He wants you to know he saw you enter the shack, and he wants you to know what you saw was his work.

No attempt to deflect or deny. He takes it all into himself like a landslide.

The first genuine response you have elicited from him at all.

It's an extinction level event for your crew if Karolina finds out he's here. You cannot let her see him.

Your asset loses control over herself in ways no one can predict.

Your adversary's grudging acknowledgement is the greatest compliment you can receive.

Profound indifference exudes from him.

A genuine question.

Fair play, he thinks. If this is to be his final performance, at least it's a big stage.

If this were a trap then he wouldn't have been so cagey about his client.

1,005 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 16 of 21