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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.

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.

Trying to shrug off the shrill taunts, kicks against toilet stall doors and scribbled lines on cracked walls that take root as undeniable truth.

Argument is futile, and you know it. Teenage girls are the unacknowledged legislators of reality.

Finally, she thinks. A part of her was desperately waiting for you to put this together.

The plea is subtle, but present. Her head is barely held above the waterline.

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.

The boy in the scarf. This girl is his tormentor -- and also his first love.

A close companion, from her expression.

Every time. Rain-smeared missing posters taped to the streetlamps of your life.

Culture then cash. Tempo to a tee.

1,005 skill checks - ZERO PARADES field manual - Page 8 of 21