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A vision of Karolina's home life suddenly flashes before you. Her father -- doting, concerned, overbearing.

The doctor's heart is a snowglobe, a thin glass shell surrounding a moment of perfect pain. You feel it in your hands now.

If you mean to bring KINDRED with you, a clean break is best.

He looks around the houseboat. It feels incomprehensible to him now. How he came to be on it.

Abject disappointment. Her response is all he's been thinking about since he put himself at your mercy.

A weight appears to lift from his shoulders.

That's how she was and remains for him -- a mirror of his own qualities and flaws.

Two utterly banal words, but they're the first he's had of her in ages. He'll hold onto them like prayer beads, until all possible meaning has been rubbed off.

'Doing fine, without you,' is all he hears.

The mirror-world.

Father-rage. Blood rising.

The doctor overtakes the father.

The Sunset is an upper, upper-class district north of Quisach.

A great fall, for someone of his professional stature.

The heavy floorboards are spotted with motor oil and bootprints.

If it's a fairy tale, it's one he's either grown very tired of or never wanted to hear in the first place.

The sort of serene, approachable expression that is considered key to 'good bedside manner'.

The Quisach backways are known more for fly-tipping and feral boars than for 'families'.

Five years ago, he was one of the top experimental somnologists in the Developed World.

Complicated subject matter.

His patients are overwhelmingly canine in nature these days.

Something stirs in you. Bad feel.

Distemper is not a human disease.

IF THE SO-CALLED DEVELOPED WORLD IS REALLY SO DEVELOPED, WHY DO ITS PEOPLE SUFFER FROM DIRTY DOG DISEASES?

He did not directly answer your question.

He briefly nurtured the hope that he'd simply misheard you. Now he must confront the reality that he's actually having a conversation with you.

His mask of placid indifference has begun to slip. Beneath, something warm, red, wet.

Something about... sleeping dogs?

You know it well -- the sensation of being formally fucked.

His fingers flex against the desktop, phantom palpations.

There's nothing wrong with your eyes.

He would rather talk about anything else.

Your flippant misunderstanding has hit a nerve. It's not the first time he's been dismissed this way.

Kneeling on a stranger's rug, small body wrapped in a towel.

The injection only takes seconds.

THIS BACKWARDS SOCIETY ALLOWS THE WORKER TO CONTROL NEITHER THEIR MEANS OF PRODUCTION NOR THEIR OWN DESTRUCTION.

He'd simply prefer it weren't him.

They had to make sure it didn't smell too sour, so the test animals would eat it willingly.

Human usage is much easier to design for. A neat little pill, in a special pocket.

He's pleading this case more to himself than to you.

There's no telling what Gonza's behavioural baseline is.

Gonza seemed pretty serious. But the speech also felt rehearsed.

He's had to fix his former colleague's mess more than once.

Under the air of affected dismissal, the accusation cuts.

Psychic defenses engaged!

His eyes, very carefully, do not flick towards the ladder.

A whole room of this tiny houseboat is dedicated to a person who never visits.

9,179 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 66 of 184