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The gall! She who toils and sweats, while the vending automaton does nothing but dispense cheerfully, uncaringly, and at a significant price markup.

Oh, Hershel. You've stolen from an old lady.

Does she mean Ignatz?

She peers out from behind the pages, eyes softening. She has deemed you clumsy enough to be trustworthy.

She smiles and leans back, endeared by your threat.

Impressive that he was able to win this woman over. He inspires empathy. Valuable trait.

Shocked that you'd imply there's anything she couldn't tell you about Quisach.

Carmuna's life flashes before your eyes. She never would have grown old had that day gone according to plan.

She has no idea how close she came to being paste on Nestor's ceiling.

She is a truly appalling judge of men's characters. How is she still alive?

Bitter disappointment in her tone. This biddy craves blood.

Yeah, tell them how bad everything is. They need to know the horrors that await them in this world.

Perhaps you should let children be children.

A phantom weight presses on your chest as you picture this girl, waking up each day to a world of wolves and monstrous angels.

These kids are lost. Their hearts belong to techno-fascism.

Why would you take this from him? He clearly treasures the toy.

They've been raised weak, unfamiliar with the venom of the world.

Putting aesthetics before purpose, as a child would.

Good that you were honest. Eventually.

It's been years since you interacted with children so, a reminder: be nice. Be normal.

They're kids. Be straight with them.

Obviously because you're wondering if their mother is the phone-sex lady.

A riposte flung without thinking. She's been asked the question more than once.

Don't worry about his feelings. It suits you so much better.

You're becoming infinitely cooler in his eyes.

He can't believe you'd actually trust him with this.

That pause wasn't hesitation, it was mourning. She's grieving a less disappointing version of you.

As you spill his secrets, your former double's face flashes across your mind.

Push a little. You can get it out of her.

The Steel Rod Night Bitch is sealed shut!

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

She's drifting off into her own rage-sphere.

He slides right back into his old skin.

Every little act a show of defiance in the face of imagined enemies, down to even his passphrases.

He can almost taste those anticonvulsants.

For a moment, he'd forgotten how weak he is.

Just because you think something, doesn't mean you need to say it.

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

It's not just about this call. He's only now remembering that this is his element.

You imagine Karolina's fingers wrapping around the small toy -- a comfort she's reached for since she was small.

Maybe Karolina took it with her when she moved out? A little souvenir, keeping her closer to home.

A big hit of his own dwindling supply gives the old man a fleeting high.

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

The laughter leaves in its wake something like conversational scar tissue.

Doused with cold water, all three of the pilots seem to sober up as your words hit them.

He edges out onto a thin sheet of memory, like a child on a frozen lake.

He means the Miracle Line. They're regulars, all of them.

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.

1,054 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 5 of 22