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811 checks

Feet rooted to the ground, hands slack. He's not interested in firearms. Or the afterlife.

A dithering, anxious desperation to be liked. Are you this pathetic?

Like a stray dog.

He's just getting comfortable. In for the deep squeeze.

Listen to yourself. Pure erotic cowardice.

A completely different person from her upstairs version.

She's about to start machine-gunning questions.

Her face resets, unnaturally fast.

Unsteadied her, at least.

She's very good. You're better.

Obvious bait, don't take it.

The silence plan has totally backfired! Clear this up, quick!

Apart from when it's her detainees talking.

You're beginning to suspect this woman has no copyediting experience whatsoever!

The watcher has abandoned his station.

Is it just you, or has he gotten... kind of cute?

The Liquidity Mage needs liquid.

A flash of lucidity as he takes you in.

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the labour trafficking, or just unaware of it.

Hard to tell if he's downplaying the imprisoning operation, or just unaware of its scope.

He hasn't said her name in a very long time.

That's it. Lecture over.

He's genuinely delighted you said that.

Even through the drunken haze, you can tell he was impressed.

He's not lying -- it was all above board. Just morally on the floor.

Stressed, liquid, junior? It can only be that hopeless fool hooked to the sex line.

Radiating with grubby intent.

If there is any kind of moral conflict churning below the surface, he does not show it.

In his mind, magnitude is all.

A glimpse of steel submerged behind his bloated jowls.

If you squint extremely hard you can imagine him heading up a negotiation table.

You're not dealing with the sharpest anything here, in case that needs to be said.

He's working off a memorised list.

No part of him is even trying to actually pretend.

Absolute, unshakeable certainty.

But not dead he reckons, by the way his face curdles.

Happiness, yes, but there's a restlessness too -- like she's uneasy being caught and held in this static photograph.

His jowels flap like a dog shaking off spittle.

Don't be fooled. He's making a mockery of you.

If this guy is a master of espionage he's playing an impressive bluff.

The big man was dozing off. Now he's trying to cover it up with a vulgar display of authority.

He grins with the maniacal intensity of a man who thinks he's found a weakness in god's armour.

He's no longer you, nor is he him.

Expression unreadable, as if you've caught her on the fringes of a dream.

This is a protracted suicide.

On the plus side: she's probably so psycho-fucked from this that she won't remember that you abandoned her.

He waves his hand in a circular motion, tracing the course of lost interest that will one day return.

True shock in her voice.

A sacrificial offering. Better than a pigeon.

811 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 8 of 17