Conversation · Evrart Claire

"That's not a big deal. Certainly not big enough to do something insidious."

"Insidious? Would I ever ask you to do something insidious? Of course not!" He shakes his head. "I personally love journalism. And I know you do too. That's because we've got nothing to hide, right?"

"Now please, let's get back to the good stuff, the police stuff, Harry! I just see myself as one of you guys. Think of me as a sergeant or something." He smiles broadly. "Let's crack this, Harry."

"That'd be awful if I intervened in something like that."

"Truly awful." He shakes his head. "It's great it didn't happen then. I personally love journalism. And I know you do too, Harry. That's because we've got nothing to hide, right?"

"I see."

"Journalism, Harry -- I love it, you love it, and you know why? Because we've got nothing to hide. Let's keep it that way."

"That'd be cool. I live for shutting these journalist fucks down."

"So funny, Harry. I, of course, love journalism. And I know secretly you do too. And you know why? Because we've got nothing to hide."

"Did one of his complex theories turn out to be true?"

"Tell me about Titus Hardie and his crew."

"Oh, they are simply fine young men -- all seven of them! Exemplary Union members. Always working to advance their position in the local socialist-democratic movement. Core members."

"Old Theo used to run them, but things really kicked into gear when Titus took the reins and named the group after himself." He starts laughing. "Gotta love his initiative."

"Interesting. Who's second in command?"

"Harry, they're almost all of them great guys, born leaders. Whatever happened, I'm sure they only had the best interests of Revachol in mind."

"Work with them -- hell, interview them! But don't fight them. They really are just like you -- men who like beer, women, and some order on the streets."

Separate one from the herd.

Better not to.

Or what -- he'll give you info? Fine, don't ask it then.

"So let me ask you this... Which one of Hardie's boys is your least favourite?"

"Oh, that would definitely be Fat Angus. His feet smell from a city-block away and he's always having noisy stomach troubles. Horrible, revolting guy."

"What if I were to pin this on someone and just quietly..."

"You would die, Harry," he says, grinning. "You would die and in the process start a bloody and completely unnecessary war between the Débardeurs' Union and the Citizens Militia."

"Angus, his ever-growling stomach, and his smelly feet are all part of the Union. You have as much right to arrest him as I have to arrest your partner here." He points to the lieutenant.

"Actually less, because this is my home town, my territory and my backyard. You are a guest here, Harry. Please remember that."

"Oh Harry..." He starts laughing. "This is getting real grim and there's no need for that. We are friends." He sits back and looks you in the eye with a wide smile.

"Angus, his ever-growling stomach, and his smelly feet are all part of the Union. You have as much right to arrest him as he has to arrest you... "

"...actually less, because it's his home and his backyard. You are a guest here, Harry. Please remember that."

"So let's say something happens to Fat Angus... let's say a citizen's arrest..."

That's him allowing the police to ask his men questions.

He's betting on them being useless to you.

"Where can I find them? The Union booth in the Whirling was empty."

"You know, what, Harry?" He points both index fingers at you. "I got a feeling they're gonna show up in full force tomorrow."

The lieutenant marks something in his notebook.

"Where can I find them?"

"What more can you tell me? Who's second in command? Who's the most violent?"

"Misogynist posters, racist literature and a signed petition to 'euthanise the invalids'."

"I saw lot of anti-socialist, anti-union stuff. Pamphlets saying: Get the unions in check."

You didn't say it with nearly enough confidence.

"Be it far from me to ever question your integrity, Harry, but you must have opened the wrong door," he says with a wry smile. "Next time, please be certain you get the right one."

"You see, Harry, it only benefits me if you open the right door. If you open the wrong door, then it makes things harder for me, 'cause now you're scaring random people in my district."

"I don't want them to be scared. I want them to think, 'Wow, I feel so safe. I like Evrart.' I only want weasels to be scared."

The lieutenant shrugs.

He means: "Fuck it, let's open the door then."

"You're right, I was just testing you."

"Of course, Harry!" He exclaims. "What are friends for if not for measuring the falsehood one can pass in the disguise of truth."

"Most certainly, Harry." The big man nods merrily. "Nothing brightens my day like brainstorming these things with you."

"I'm very glad to hear that, Harry," he says with a smile. "One question: you didn't actually happen to stumble in and see what's inside the apartment, did you?"

He's trying to figure out if you're lying.

There is no way to sway this man in any direction. He is un-suggestable and un-swayable. Just tell the truth.

"I did go inside. Weasel had the flag of the Old Revachol on his wall."

"Exactly the kind of fascist memorabilia I was expecting." He shakes his head. "Weasel probably prays to it every night for the downfall of the Union."

He was testing you. And you succeeded.

"Now let's get down to brass tacks. It's time for men like me and you to figure out who's killed who and why." He pretends to roll up his sleeves. "Real police work is gonna start happening now. I promise you, Harry, this is gonna be good."

"I may have gone inside and seen a collection of racist mugs."

"Just as I thought. Culturally antiquated mug collection. What a weasel..." He shakes his head. "Pissing on Evrart's Rainbow Coalition."

"The deal wasn't for me to go inside, so I didn't."

"You're right, Harry. You only had to unlock the door." He gives you a clever look. "Which you did, so we're all good here."

"I did go inside. He had the glorious flag of Revachol the Suzerain on his wall."

"The weasel is no true patriot, Harry." He shakes his head. "He prays every night for the downfall of the Union -- and spits upon the name of the king."