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You must understand that, he means, if you're going to understand what happens later.

Politeness, professionalism, the performance of empathy. These are the things he was taught would make a good man, or at least a correct man. In his moment of greatest extremis, they all deserted him.

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.

A weight appears to lift from his shoulders.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

Under the air of affected dismissal, the accusation cuts.

Psychic defenses engaged!

He used to lift her in the air and make her fly like a cosmonaut. Used to say goodnight with a kiss on the nose.

Convince him to part with Dr. Gonza's medical dummy.

He sympathizes with any organism that can survive under bleakly hostile conditions.

Something in him stirs. Some germ of the real doctor behind the porcelain mask.

Paired with self-loathing.

Wondering how long it's been since you took your medication.

Without his meds, the outside world might as well be one big giant seizure-inducing machine. You're not getting Ramses all the way over here without at least one dose to level him out.

You've neatly slotted yourself into the 'drug-seeking behaviour' category in his eyes.

The same medical board that fucked them both. The well of his hatred runs deep.

A mantra repeated.

Those little arguments made his day.

They are already untangling themselves from each other.

'Thought' maybe, but she was clutching something more with the barest of fingertips. That's gone now. You almost heard it go.

Set her free. Why should she sacrifice her second chance for yours?

Awaiting your approval.

Let her off easy -- she won't handle the guilt well.

Even her friends are wavering, it seems. Not as real as they used to be.

And yet you can't help but feel a sense of desperation clinging to it.

An ordinary night with ordinary stars.

This girl can't be more than seventeen. Barely a glimpse of a lifetime.

Said for herself, not for your sake.

Squelching one person into another.

Horizontal pupils... Undersexed... You've met him. The being known as Goat-Eyes.

You get the distinct sense she's about to confide something to you. But at the cusp, she retracts the words and puts others in their place.

Must be a Tempo styling for something significant -- all gravitas and enigma.

With your old friend, it was never one deal. Always a tangle of side bets, optional riders, and overlapping interests, arranged in such a way that Tempo always wound up across the table from himself.

This is her way of asking for help. She needs a friend.

Or maybe himself in some form.

His second banning that you've been witness to. He's a ban magnet!

Be open with her. This girl is not your enemy. She may yet be your ally.

Blown away into the night before you could even give chase.

They won't make it.

Push a little harder and she'll open up. This girl wants to tell you things.

1,054 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 8 of 22