Conversation · Frittte clerk

"Um, is this about the questions again? 'Cause I don't really know anything..." She puts down the magazine.

"I need to exchange this novelty cheque for cash." (Give her the novelty cheque and gain 25 reál.)

"Uh, wow, I didn't know you worked for the Union, sir." She rolls up the giant novelty cheque -- looks like she's seen it before -- and slips it under the counter.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

No, you don't work for the Union, the Union works for you -- by supplying you with cash.

That was easy! Worryingly so...

Blow the whole thing on speed and gin, right now. Speed -- AND GIN. Great combo. Ask some local dealers maybe...

"Can you tell me anything about the dead body?"

"Uhm, I don't really know anything? I mean, I know it's there? But I haven't seen it, so..."

"Thank your for your help."

"Uh-uh." She brushes a strand of hair off her face and tries to return to her magazine.

"What do you think happened?"

"Uhm... I don't know?"

"No need to worry." The lieutenant's voice is soothing and professional. "It's just standard procedure for us to ask around. If you hear anything, let us know. Okay?"

"M'kay." She scratches her nose.

"Did you know the man who died?"

"Not really?"

"Not really? Does it mean you knew him a little?"

"Uhm, no. I didn't know him at all."

"How long has it been there?"

"I don't know. Really long?"

[Leave.]

"Do you have any ammonia for sale?"

She looks up from her magazine, eyes filled with tired ennui.

"Yes." She hitches her thumb toward the end of the counter. "What we have is there, in the medicine cabinet -- go take a look yourself..."

"Do you have a fridge?"

"Mhmh, right behind you." She nods towards the buzzing machine in the corner.

"You're right, this is a fridge! Wicked."

"Yeah..." She's not really paying attention to you anymore.

"Well, enough about the fridge then."

She's playing with her hair, engrossed in a magazine.

"I need to store a corpse there."

"Uhm..." She keeps chewing on her gum. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not joking. I need to store the corpse of the hanged man in your fridge."

"Uhm, okay..." she looks at the fridge. "It wouldn't even fit you know."

"Now that I'm looking at it... maybe a glass-doored fridge in a public grocery store isn't the best option for storing a corpse."

"Pity. It would've been so beautiful."

"Yeah, I don't know..." She returns to her magazine.

"Well, thanks, Frittte clerk."

"M'kay..." She returns to her magazine.

"I guess you're right, plus the fridge is too small anyway."

Maybe a glass-doored fridge in a public grocery store really isn't the best option for storing a corpse.

(Measure the fridge with your fingers, one eye closed.) "Never mind... It would never fit."

"Yeah, super funny." She returns to her magazine, seemingly not impressed by the joke.

"Yes, this was just a joke." (Cough.) "A bad joke."

"You said I wouldn't want to 'fuck with Frittte'. Why?"

"Because Frittte has an army?"

She blinks at you, confused as to why you'd ask such an obvious thing.

"But why would Frittte need an army? It's just a corner shop."

"I dunno." She shrugs. "It stops people from robbing Frittte, I guess? If they know there's an army, I mean... I wouldn't want to fuck with them, anyway."

"Businesses often hire private security this side of the river. It's an unfortunate state of affairs, but not unheard of."

"Yeah, good point... Actually, I had other questions as well."

"M'kay." She's chewing on her bubblegum again. "What do you want to know?"

"But that's what the cops are for..."

"You think the police, like... bother catching shoplifters?" She rolls her eyes. "Frittte polices themselves, so... Yeah. Anything else you wanted?"

You better behave yourself in this Frittte. Or who knows what will happen.

"Hold on, an army? You mean like... mercenaries? Ready to kill people?"

"Yeah, like two thousand or so." She says it as if it's completely natural.

"Hold on, so it's true? Frittte has actual mercenaries, ready to kill people?"

"Does Frittte have a warehouse in the back of the Whirling-in-Rags?"