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Placid Wolf languishes atop his plastic cup.
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Placid Wolf?
Alternative wording
One of the wolves the kids in the Bazaar mentioned...
His little painted eyes are unfocused, a faint smile on his snout.
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What's in the pipe?
A bitter herb. Smoking it is what keeps him grounded in the present moment.
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I could do with some more of that myself.
The moment will return, if that's what you seek.
Happy. Floaty. Dank.
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Better keep it professional.
At all times, if you can manage it.
I could do with some of that.
The moment will come, if that's what you seek.
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A good operant knows when to wait, and when to imbibe.
Who's Placid Wolf's guy? Where can we get some?
He looks happy.
Placidity and happiness are sometimes confused for each other. This is a mistake.
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Seems kind of spaced-out. I'm not sure he's a reliable addition to the cup crew.
He's a modulating influence on the other wolves, and more importantly, he's a highly rare and collectible piece of merchandise.
Consider his giant double sword. (Proceed.)
One day, he will run out of bitter herb. Then he shall remember his true name and be placid no more.
Don't let the wolves' playacting at humanity fool you. They're still animals underneath.
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Take the cup.
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Eszti's husband gives you an encouraging nod from the couch.
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Selflessly giving up his own prized possession to bring joy to a neurologically challenged young lady.
He's far too kind to be married to someone like ESTOC.
Placid Wolf joins the crew.
"Unbelievable."
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End of this branch
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"Hershel. Stop."
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"Hey, my cup!"
"But... I want it."
He stares at you with confusion, then shakes his head.
"And now you're trying to steal from us. Of course."
"Sorry, sorry."
Leave the cup alone. [Leave.]
Pascal grins at you.
Sitting atop a pile of yellowing newspapers and dog-eared crossword magazines is a large plastic cup with a colourful wolf figure on the lid.
He holds a long pipe in one languid paw, his posture relaxed despite the twin blades chained to his back. His name curls around the side: PLACID WOLF.