Conversation · Cuno

"But... I don't know either."

"I'm ready, Cuno." (Conclude.)

"So, listen, pig..." The kid seems hesitant suddenly. "Cuno's been thinkin' about shit and, uh... Cuno's coming with you. Help you wrap this shit up. Final-style."

Asking for something -- even asking to come along -- doesn't come easy for him.

"What style was that?"

"Final-style," he repeats. "You fucked everything up. Now Cuno's all you got. Terminal Cuno."

"Why do you wanna come with me?"

"This scene is dead." He gestures towards the window. "Cuno's outta here -- might as well be a pig, big-up fucky-fingers on my way out."

Big-up fucky-fingers? He is a free-thinker. Beyond the box. Can't argue with that.

Say what you will, but this kid's hard shit. He might actually make a good cop one day.

Khm... DRUG ASSET DETECTED!

Kid would make a half-decent sharpshooter, no?

Look at him. Life hasn't been easy on him. You wanna drag him along and put him through more shit? Your shit?

Look, this might be his only way out.

Trying to recruit him is like trying to make a pet out of fire. This kid recognizes only one authority -- his own.

He is streetwise. Knows the neighbourhood. Knows the people. He could be useful.

This is a twelve year old kid. You can't seriously be considering taking him along?! What's gonna happen to him?

"All right. Saddle up." (Accept the Cuno.)

"Thanks, pig." He quickly glances at you, then looks away. "Now get your crippled ass up and tell Cuno, what are we gonna do now?"

"Now... as to what's going to happen next..." (Get up.)

"Yes, gimp... ?" Cuno asks, seeing the effort it takes you to stand. "What are you gonna do now? Ride outta here on your shit-river? You'll die alone. Cuno doesn't give a shit now. Too late now. Cuno's gonna hang here and fuck your room up again..."

Whatever it takes. [Leave.]

"We should check Klaasje's room."

"That's Klaasje, right? Bitch next door? Cuno's thinking the same thing," he agrees. "Let's rock it, pig-man."

"Bitch next door? That's what Cuno's thinking too," he agrees. "Good call. Let's rock it, pig-man."

"I don't know. Let's just aimlessly wander until a clue presents itself."

"That sounds like a hella shit plan. You askin' Cuno to come along to your shit-show and you don't even know what to do? Fuckin' check your pig journal or something. C'mon..."

"I don't know."

"You askin' Cuno to come along to your shit-show and you don't even know what to do? Fuckin' check your pig journal or something. C'mon..."

You did mention doing more ballistics...

Also, it's just close enough to endure the walk.

Ballistics. In Klaasje's room. Do it properly.

A gust of wind blows in from the bay, the duraluminium box around you vibrates imperceptibly... a familiar cold, a red thread on the roof upstairs. Taut. Plucked like a string by the gust.

"Yeah, debrief Cuno. Let Cuno know the plan." The kid rubs his hands together.

"Sorry, Cuno, I can't take you with me." (Refuse the Cuno.)

"Sorry for what?! For not adding Cuno to your shitshow?! Cuno's not sorry. Cuno's glad. I was just kidding too. You couldn't get Cuno for million reál. Fuck you, okay?"

Wow, he did not take that rejection well.

"Now? As to what's going to happen next..."

"All right. Saddle up." (Accept the Cuno.)

"Accepted the Cuno like a motherfucker..." He nods respectfully. "What are we gonna do now?"

"Sorry, Cuno, I can't take you with me." (Refuse the Cuno.)

"Sorry for what?! For not adding Cuno to your shitshow?! Cuno's not sorry. Cuno's glad. I was just kidding. You couldn't get Cuno for a million reál. You can't even get out bed, loser."

Wow, he did not take that rejection well.

"Hold on... There's something different about you, Cuno..."

"Nah... Cuno's just off speed for a few days..." There's a melancholy look in his eyes.

"Being off speed makes Cuno sad. Makes Cuno think about shit." He makes vague gestures around his head with his fingers.

"Go away, Cuno... Let me die in peace."

"Now's not the time to shit the bed, pig." He spits. "C'mon, baconman, Cuno's gonna help you hold your shit in."

Sounds like he's alright after all.

"They say you shot that fucker in the face. That's fucking cool to Cuno." He looks down. "So I thought I'd stick around."

"They say you got a lot of people killed. Like half the town. They say you didn't do shit." He looks down. "I guess that's cool, so I thought I'd stick around."

He's not saying Cuno -- he's saying I? And not calling you a f****t or a pig? Is he ill or something?

Wow... Cuno's about to take pity on you. That's unexpected.

"Wait... what?"

"Just kidding, piggo," he chuckles. "The boo-boo wagon took the binoclard away. He's probably gonna live."

Say nothing.

"No... no, no..."