Conversation · Lilienne, the Net Picker

"Really? Are you sure you're not also looking for Nadia Harnankur? Or Ignus Nilsen? Or the great lost city of Eis under the waves?"

"I am looking for a lot of stuff, ain't I?"

"A lot of stuff," she concurs with a smile.

"I guess so. Doesn't feel like a lot to me. I could be doing more. Maybe there's someone missing from your life?"

"Oh," she chuckles. "There's plenty missing, but that's too much for even an eager terrier like you to handle. Although you seem very thorough. Tell me instead, is there something else I can help you with?"

"I'm an agent of unstoppable forces. No one can escape what's coming for them."

"Intense." She pulls her fingers through her hair. "You're like some kind of dark terrier with your endless searches. Maybe there's something else I can help you with then?"

"I'm just doing my job. Let's change the subject."

She whistles quietly, picking at the fishnet at her feet. The wind ruffles her hair.

"Yeah, that's what cops do."

"I guess that makes you into some sort of a terrier." She picks on her net. "Either way, I can't help you out."

"Well, how can I assist you then, officer?"

"A working class husband."

"Yeah, I'm not really looking for that anymore. Not much into the middle-class ones either." She sighs. "I could use some landed gentry, but apparently they don't make those anymore."

"The husband isn't for me. I'm looking for him for his wife."

"Wish I could help you with that, but I haven't seen your 'working class husband'. Maybe I can help you find someone else?"

She seems genuinely sorry for not being able to help you.

"I'd like to ask something else."

"I changed my mind. I would like you to sign the documents." (Hand her the envelope.)

She pulls out the papers. "Evrart and his plan for the village. I guess it does sound nice enough..."

"So, will you sign it?"

She thinks in silence, glances at the sea and finally speaks: "Aye, why not?"

"Fine." The pen clicks. "Here you go."

"Wait. Why did you sign it?"

"I shouldn't have?"

"I've looked at the documents and no, you shouldn't have."

"Yes. Well. I looked at it and thought I should -- because it says youth centre and I have my own children. I am, of course, just a stupid poor person, so what do I know?"

"Living with the construction noise is going to be a challenge."

"Sure, but it's temporary and for a good cause and I need to give the children something else to do..."

"What do you mean?"

"They're cute and small now, but they're growing up fast. Too fast, I had my first drink when I was eleven, because I was so bored..."

"Anyway... you'll have to get Isobel to sign it too. I saw the signatories -- she won't if it's a bad idea. She's a much tougher nut to crack."

Sound logic, division of labour. She leaves the scepticism to the sceptic.

Sounds like Isobel is the leader around here.

"Besides, you also need Isobel's signature," she says with a smile. "If it's a bad idea, she won't sign."

"I mean it's Evrart, so it's probably a mistake."

"Probably." She smiles. "But it is a youth centre and I have children. Got to give them something else to do. They're cute and small now, but they're growing up fast. I had my first drink when I was eleven, because I was so bored..."

"Anyhow.... you also need Isobel's signature. If it's a bad idea, she won't sign. You'll find she's a tougher nut to crack than me."

"No-no, it's a youth centre. Why shouldn't you?"

"That's what I asked you." She tilts her head. "It's a youth centre and I have children. Got to give them something else to do. They're cute and small now, but they're growing up fast. I had my first drink when I was eleven, because I was so bored..."

"Thank you." (Take it back.)

"You're welcome," she says with a little nod.

"Fine." The pen clicks. "Here you go."

"Here, use my pen." (Give her your pen.)

"He has a pen and everything..." She takes it from you, a doubtful look in her eyes, clicks it and places the tip on the paper.

"Here you go."

"Here you go."

"What do you do around here?"

"Like I said, fish, mostly. Sail the waves, take care of the kids. Pick nets... right now I'm tarring a little skiff."

"Is that enough to make a living?"

"Sometimes I also walk the beach to see what the sea has given up. The sea is full of surprises."

Keep it professional, man. Don't make it sound like you're hitting on her.

This is what is called a conversation. You don't have to be guarded right now.

"Walking on the beach. Sounds quite... romantic."

"Oh, very." She laughs. "Finding pieces of glass, bits of wood. Every once in a while we get dead bodies -- human, animal, fish, other sea creatures. A mine washed ashore, once..."

"What else?" She looks at the beach. "Bottles. Drugs, also. Lost cargo in general. But most of the time, it's just wood and glass. Very romantic."

All right! Major choice moment. You only get to ask ONE thing. It would be weird to say them all. Choose wisely.

Mines! Mines! You need mines.

"I need to know about those human bodies."

"Well, you're barking under the wrong tree then, officer." She shakes her head. "I have no interest in floaters. Seen enough of them in my life already. A very unattractive bunch."