Conversation · Lilienne, the Net Picker

Great, now you reminded her of the husband.

It's okay, she just hasn't figured out how these things work between the sexes. Keep at it. She'll come around.

"I like you -- but I'm afraid to be around you, because you're a woman."

"Okay." She blinks. "Where is this going?"

"I need to be drunk. You do too. Please get drunk with me on a drunk-date."

"Absurdly and pointedly phrased." She doesn't laugh. "You can be quite funny, officer. Anyway, what did you want?"

"Alcohol makes closeness possible. Let's connect."

"Alcohol? Connect? I'm not sure I'm following you." There's confusion in her eyes.

"Get hammered with me. On a date. Drunk-date. It will be nice, I promise."

She bursts out laughing. "That's a good impression. You really crack me up, officer. Now how can I help you?"

Get the drink ON. It would be unimaginable for a human female to have sex with a man without Al-Gul as the master of ceremonies to guide them.

Oh, yes she does -- you need to get your drink on. There is no other way for human beings to procreate. Not after six thousand years of yeast cultivation-based mating rituals.

"I need to get to that island." (Point to it.)

"That won't be a problem. It's windstill -- and the tar just dried." She points to her skiff next to the jetty. "We've got two days of relative sunshine ahead."

"Thank you, I'll use your skiff to get there then."

She nods. "Please be conservative with the fuel, will you? I just filled her up, but it's a small tank."

"What's on that island?"

"Mhm, used to be some kind of fortification there before the war -- for the communards. An anti-aircraft gun, I think. Bombed to bits in the landing... I haven't been there myself -- always steered clear of it."

Hasn't been there herself... who has then?

"Who has been there?"

"My husband used to drink there. Him and his drinking buddies. Always seemed like a bad place to drink to me. People died there during the landing, you know -- my mother told me..."

"Hundreds. Maybe thousands even..." She looks around. "The kids sometimes go there too, I know they do. On barges. I tell them not to but they bring back old bullet casings and such."

"Which kids?"

"The twins." She points to the two kids playing on the concrete yard. "God forbid they bring the girl along on a rickety barge."

"Can we maybe ask your twins about that place -- before we go? Would that be all right?"

"Be my guest." She looks at the boys. "They've a strange way of talking. See if you can get anything useful out of them. I seldom do..."

"If you haven't been there yourself, who has?"

Keep it to yourself.

"Always seemed like there was something off about that islet to me..."

"Nothing, just ruins. Used to be some kind of fortification there before the war, for the communards. An anti-aircraft gun, I think. Bombed to bits in the landing... I haven't been there myself -- always steered clear of it."

"You said you haven't been there yourself -- who has then? If not you?"

"My husband used to drink there. Him and his drinking buddies. Always seemed like a bad place to drink to me. People died there during the landing, you know, my mother told me..."

This must be one of the many fortifications that was used in the dying days of the Revolution. Against Coalition forces -- before they took this city.

She looks around. "The kids sometimes go there too, I know they do -- on rafts. I tell them not to but they bring back old bullet casings and such."

"Which kids?"

"The twins." She points to the two kids playing on the concrete yard. "God forbid they bring the girl along on some rickety barge."

"Is there anything I should know about getting there?"

"Well -- most of it's sunken. Underwater. That means concrete under water -- cut your boat if you're not careful. Be sure to enter from the south side, water's deep there."

Aye-aye, captain.

"Two days of sunshine? I just got a bacterial infection."

"I'm sad to hear that. Take care of that with ether, will you? Don't get too many RCM men around here. Be sad to lose the first one."

That's cool. You boasting your bacterial infection like that.

"Can I borrow your boat?"

"If you promise to bring it back. And no scraping the hull -- I just got it nice and yellow. And no drinking on the boat." Her eyes narrow. "And no joyriding, either."

"Of course, ma'am. It's only for a day or two -- official police business."

"Aye," she nods.

Nod along attentively.

The crow's feet disappear from the corners of her eyes, as she smiles at you.

"What if I wanna rock?"

"See, that makes me not want to lend you my skiff. On a boat, rocking leads to capsizing. That there is an absolutely one-hundred percent rock-free skiff, you got that?"

"Aye, the sea's gonna calm down soon. I can feel it. The wind is turning southeast." She nods. "What's on your mind, officer?"

Why does she care about the waves so much?

"What is it with you and those waves?"

"What is it with waves and fishermen?" She tilts her head and looks at the sea. "We need to be out there, with them. Fishing, making a living. So I ask them to accommodate me."

"But until that happens I can try to assist you the best I can," she adds with a smile. "So, what will it be, officer?"

Nevermind the waves. Let's stay on track here.

Of course. Question time!

"The waves are beginning to die down... look at those little bastards. Simmer down. Simmer down, bastards."

"Aye, the sea's gonna calm down soon. I can feel it. The wind is turning southeast." She nods. "What's on your mind, officer?"

"Officer Harry... you're wounded. Why are you wounded? You look terrible."