Conversation · Washerwoman

"Hah!" She lifts the paper very close to her face and studies it intently. "I might be half blind, but it looks like part of the village is gonna be a street. The best part. The part we need to get out of our houses."

"I see Lilienne's name is already here. Tsk, tsk. The girl is too trusting. Either way, I won't sign Union papers." She hands the envelope back to you.

"What do you have against the Union?"

"I've seen it all before. You think they've got our interests at heart? Rich men are always selling poor men promises they never plan to keep..." She pulls a dark red rag out of the bucket and puts it back.

"Then the poor get pushed out of their homes and the rich get a little richer. That's the way it goes. So no, I don't trust the fat man, and neither should you."

In her mind, the Union is right wing because Evrart is fat. It's that simple and there's no changing it.

She speaks with the authority of a leader. Hers is the final word around here.

She is headstrong, but there's a slight hesitation in there... You may be able to convince her.

"Have you asked Lilienne about this? I won't even consider signing till I know she's on board." She hands the envelope back.

"I'll go ask her first then."

"Yes," she replies, slowly nodding. "You do that. Can't let fat Mr. Claire down now, can you?"

She is not impressed by a cop running errands for a local big wig. Not at all.

"Wait, where can I find her?"

"She's right over there." She points towards the jetty. "The dark-haired woman, leaning over the railing."

"Your mind just flips back and forth, doesn't it... what are they about exactly?"

"Actually, is that free room still available?"

"Change your mind, did you? I thought you might. Won't find a better deal than free."

"Don't make this old women regret giving the police the key to her house." She takes out a key from under her apron and hands it to you. "Here."

"What is in this fishing village?"

"Just us." She sounds tired. "It's barely a village anymore. We... almost don't exist."

"What do you mean?"

"This is pretty much a non-place." She grins. "A gap. A blank spot on the map, just a cluster of nameless shacks on a nameless street."

The place is so pornographically poor it's not even funny.

"Who else lives in this... village?"

"Well, there's Lilienne and her kids. A few new folks live in the house to the east." She nods her head across the courtyard. "But they're away right now."

"And then there's the drunks..." She sighs. "Not a pretty sight, but there's little we can do about it. Home is home, even for them."

"Who, what drunks?"

"Sooner or later you'll see for yourself." She slowly shakes her head. "Don't have to look long to find these guys."

"I'm not really interested in town drunks, but thanks."

She nods and raises her unseeing eyes. "What are you interested in then?"

"I met Lilienne already."

"Lilienne is tough." She nods. "Tougher than the men here at least. If it wasn't for her and the kids, this place wouldn't have a spark of life left."

"I think I also met the drunks..."

"I'm sure you did," she says with a peculiar smile and nods. "Nature keeps them in rotation. A new face pops up every now and then and an old one disappears and is forgotten. This is who we are."

Relax, you're not a 'new face'. She doesn't mean you. You are an outsider. And a cop, remember?

"I haven't seen any drunks yet, though..."

"Oh yeah, I met a couple of drunks here."

"This place is pornographically poor."

"The lack of wealth is the one thing we've got in abundance." The woman smiles cryptically.

It's a cold, cynical smile.

"Riddles," the lieutenant marks dryly and looks around. "Fits with the general ambience here."

"Aye." Her eyes grow wide with glee. "Sometimes it's as though I've also gotten lost inside this nameless nothing."

"I'd really rather go back to talking about the village."

"As you please."

"I'm lost too."

"Oh?" Her expression betrays curiosity. "It seems to be a common theme these days."

"I think I'm in the process of finding myself again."

"Isn't that what people always think when they're lost?" A fleeting smirk runs across her lips. "Something I can do to help you find your way, officer?"

"Maybe I should stay lost. Just move here and... disappear completely."

"Maybe," she says with unnerving calm. "It would be easy. But right now you want something from me, right?"

"That's what I thought."

"Then all's not lost," she replies, smoothing a wrinkle in her skirt. "As you can see, even in 'pornographic' poverty people make do..."

"At least those who remain..." She falls silent and turns to look over her shoulder, as though looking for someone.

There's nobody there.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"It's okay," she calms you. "What matters is we are still around. Still living our lives. Even in 'pornographic' poverty we make do..."

"Is there a way to make a little money around here?"

"Here? For you?" She lets out a dry chortle. "No, officer. The only money we have here is some coins the drunks tried hiding from their women -- and then forgot about."

Under carts, boats, in little boxes. It's not hard to find.

"Alright, there's another topic I'd like to address."