Conversation · The Gardener

"I'm okay with it. Was there something else?"

She's not okay with it. It's a display of power and she feels threatened by it. You don't know why.

Let it go.

She would probably prefer not to go into it. It wasn't easy to pick up on either...

"Yes. That's the one."

"What is up in the North?"

"There's the pier, the Capeside apartment buildings. Some more tenements... Not a lot, really."

Pier? Buildings? Apartments? You should explore, maybe scale a wall?

"Who are you exactly?"

"Me? I'm just a gardener."

She hides it well, but behind the sweat and dirt there is something... else. In her rigid posture.

"Cool. And what are you doing here?"

"I'm working."

"Working on what?"

"I have a greenhouse in the yard there." She gestures over her shoulder. "I've been trying to get some work done..."

There's discomfort. She stops mid sentence.

She realizes she's about to criticize your work -- or lack thereof.

"Go on, it's okay."

"As you probably know, there's a corpse hanging from a tree there. It smells pretty bad. So I have to take breaks."

"Don't worry, miss. We're here to clean it up -- you can get to work soon."

"Thank you." She smiles politely. "My head is about to explode from all the salts I've had to inhale."

Salts? Ammonium salts? Perhaps useful for later.

"But?"

"Well... as you probably know, there's a corpse hanging from a tree there. It smells pretty bad. So I have to take breaks."

"There's a corpse there, keeping you from doing your work."

"Yes." She looks relieved. "It smells pretty bad, so I have to take breaks."

"Good to meet you, Just-A-Gardener. Another question then."

"I am pleased to meet you too, officer."

"There's more to you than that."

"Is there?"

The quickness of the reply certainly does not prove you wrong.

"Maybe." (Nod.) "Pleased to meet you, Just A Gardener. I have another question."

"Yes. What are you doing here?"

"It's raining again..." The young woman resting by the wheelbarrow sighs.

"It was clear just an hour ago..."

"Hello again, officer. How are things?"

"You're back."

"I have some questions for you."

"Of course. What can I help you with?"

"Later." [Leave.]

"You sound surprised."

"We don't see a lot of police around here, that's all."

The place looks the part. There's graffito everywhere and the traffic jam behind you is completely unregulated.

"The RCM in Martinaise?" The young woman looks up at you. "What can I help you with?"

She's black.

"You're black."

"What do you mean?"

Ask her about music -- it'll get the convo flowing, don't worry!

"So, what kind of music do you listen to nowadays?"

"I don't know..." She looks around. "Whatever's on the radio?"

She seems more perplexed than threatened.

"Do you listen to disco?"

"Uh... I'm gonna say no."

"We should probably proceed with our business in Martinaise." The lieutenant interrupts her, turning to you. "Unless you didn't have any more official questions?"

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Nothing."

"We should proceed with our business in Martinaise." The lieutenant turns to you.

"Sure thing." She narrows her eyes.

So what? I'm also black.