Conversation · Joyce Messier

"I need a billion reál."

"Excuse me sir, I don't have a billion reál."

"What? I thought you said you had like twenty billion or something."

"That was the annual revenue of the entire Wild Pines Group, not my personal fortune..."

"Try again, dear. A little lower this time."

"Oops, I must have misheard."

"I need 1 reál."

"No, you don't. One reál won't get you two pieces of bath tissue to rub together."

She's surprisingly nonchalant about this. Could it be that she somehow knows more about your predicament than she's letting on?

"Help me, I'm poor. I need money to keep living."

"Ah yes, of course, I'm sad to hear that." She nods, as if its self explanatory. "How much do you need?"

"Can I have some money, ma'am?"

"Of course." She nods, she doesn't even smile. "How much do you need."

"MONEY!!!"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you," she chuckles to herself. "The wind is a bit strong, could you repeat that?"

"I NEED MONEY!!!"

"HOW MUCH MONEY?!"

I am sorry. It just doesn't come out of your mouth. What does is:

Surprisingly eloquent, really. The last one, not the first three -- those are ape-speak.

"Khnnnnnnnffff..."

"Excuse me, I didn't hear you." Her voice is kind, a little hoarse from the wind.

What you meant to say was:

"Khk..."

"I am the scum of the earth."

"My...." She doesn't know what to say: "Why do you say that?"

"I'm gunk."

"That's garbage! You're a police officer."

"I'm the stuff people have under their fingernails. Let's talk about something else please."

"Of course." She makes a slight bowing motion.

She understands what you're trying to do -- ask for money. But shame is contagious and she doesn't want to offend you by saying it out loud.

"No I'm not. I'm gunk."

"Shall we talk about something else maybe?" Her voice is kind, if anything she sounds a little confused.

"Money..."

"Excuse me, I didn't hear you." her voice is kind, a little hoarse from the wind. "Did you say money?"

"No, I didn't. Let's talk about something else."

"What can you tell me about this strike?"

"Of course." She takes a sip from the thermal cup.

"One more thing -- you said something happened in the elections?"

"I'm glad you asked. There was a woman -- the previous forewoman of the Union. She disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes. On the last day of the local chapter elections her daughter phoned in and said she wasn't running anymore -- or coming to work. Ever. End of story."

This forewoman -- her name?

"Some kind of extortion probably."

"Indeed. The company suspects foul play, but there's nothing they could do, it was a Union matter."

"The point of the presentation is -- these kinds of things happen around the Claires. Watch out when you're dealing with him."

"Thank you for your concern, ma'am. We'll be just fine."

"This forewoman? Her name?"

"Sadly, the company records do not even give a name. She's just forewoman, in private correspondence: Holly. I don't even know if it's a sur- or given name. And I don't have access to the Unions' files."

"It happens."

"Does it?" She arches her brow. "The company suspects foul play, but there's nothing they could do, it was a Union matter."

"Eerie."

"Downright haunting if you ask me. The Wild Pines suspected foul play, but what could they do? It was a Union matter."

"Disappeared?"

"That's all I need here. Let's change the topic."

"Of course." She passes the thermal cup between her gloved hands. "How else can I help?"

You don't have to tell her you met Evrart right away. There's time.

Don't tell her you've met Evrart right away. There's time.

"Tell me about this Union boss -- Mr. Claire."

"Evrart Claire is a man of the utmost integrity. If you can say one thing about him, it's that he always puts the interests of the workers first."

She's being sarcastic. Don't take her performance literally.