Conversation · Railing

Someone has left an unidentifiable article of clothing on this railing. It smells really bad.

Take a closer look.

It's streaked with dried seagull shit and tangled with pieces of seaweed. A dangling arm suggests that there might be a jacket beneath the crust of filth.

It seems likely that it was left in the surf until someone laid it out on this fence to dry out. Unfortunately that just seems to have stiffened it into a shapeless mass.

"Please tell me you're not taking that with you."

"It might be a clue."

"A clue? You think our suspect is a seagull who's been defecating on unsuspecting jackets?"

"It could have been multiple seagulls."

The lieutenant sighs.

A poet could write a dozen verses and still not begin to capture the profound vexation in that sigh.

You should still take it. It's probably Doom Spiral's.

You should still take it.

"No."

"Me neither."

"Yes."

"Why not?"

"It's a guano-encrusted jacket. And you're already carrying around enough as it is."

"I think this is the jacket the Idiot Doom Spiral Guy wanted me to find."

The lieutenant looks at the stinking rag and sniffs. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have it returned."

Much as the thought of touching it causes you to cringe, this could be the jacket that the idiot in the colourful tracksuit was looking for...

This jacket reeks of loss and failure. It could be the one that the idiot in the colourful tracksuit was looking for...

Touch it.

The cloth, if you can still call it that, makes a soft crunching sound as you thrust your finger into it.

Maybe later. [Leave.]