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He practically clings to it, like a shipwreck-survivor holding onto a piece of driftwood.

Acid contempt. It melts right through your defences.

The excitement, the anticipation, it's all got you feeling a little on edge.

What's the problem, can't take a little 'bad death'? Look inside.

Sensation drains from you, replaced by an aching lightness. Like the moment before a drop.

You knew he was coming here. Could've had that one last drink.

Might've been reasonable to have that drink to the craft.

Should've had that drink to the cat.

Could've had that drink with him...

You're making her uncomfortable.

Smiling, but her voice is hard.

A wave of despair. The friends you abandoned, the promise of camaraderie you made a lie of.

She hates you. She thinks you're a stupid cunt.

He's perfectly aware you're not from around here, much less a cop.

Unshakeable. He will never budge on this.

Holed up for days on end, frying your circadian rhythm for The Work. A mangled part of you craves it, always.

Steel. Superior feedback -- every bullet shuddering, while you remain still.

Something to keep your arm steady when it gets heated. Ultimate stability.

He's tired. The kind of tired that comes from getting through the wrong version of the night.

Pointless to wonder. Best to steel yourself and carry on regardless.

Who are you to say, either?

You could prolong the stillness... forever.

Like trying to meditate -- the harder you try to grasp it, the more elusive it becomes.

It's catching. And you're halfway there.

She's like a bottomless well. Shake her and more will come out.

Your skepticism runs dry in the face of a real trepidation.

You feel nothing. If you expected a surge of energy, a rush, that is not where this was going. And yet...

You've waded into a trap. You don't know how or what kind, but nobody gives away cash like this for nothing.

The mention of La Luz never fails to make your hairs stand attentive.

You've hit your limit when it comes to encounters with the human condition.

You said yourself these plushies are sinister... what shape has breached containment?

What shape has breached containment?

Plastic eyes teeming in the dark.

She thinks she's won this conversation, and there is nothing you could say to her that would convince her otherwise.

Keep clear of the nails! One swipe and she could open your jugular.

Keep clear of the nails! One swipe and she could open your jugular.

Tyrant Wolf. This paled woman will offer little resistance -- you could rip it out of her hands this moment.

It's a flesh wound. But still, ow!

That was not a rhetorical question and she's ready to be very angry at the wrong answer.

First assignment off the shelf and you're being stalked by a suspected operant killer. Kill yourself to get it over with.

The man in Foto 24. Were the Weeping Eye that close to you already?

Sounds more like she notices, but does not care.

Survives them, too.

A cold swell smashes into your ribcage.

Good chance to ask her some questions about your former double... and his discontents.

He's not choking, but something similar to it. Something that has lowered his lung capacity to half.

Target acquired. Ramses' ears perk to attention by your side.

704 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 3 of 15