Conversation · Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife

"From where I was standing, it looked like you were about to pull out two guns, but drew two... akhem... birdies instead. Well, I'm glad you're weren't injured."

"How'd you like to roll with me?"

Her eyes light up. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Roll us some cigarettes. I'm jonesing for a smoke."

"Oh, no-no-no, I haven't smoked in years..."

"Why don't you smoke? It's great!"

She looks embarrassed. "Cigarettes are a luxury, sweetie. Besides, I have to mind my health."

Wait! Maybe she knows where you can get cigarettes. Delicious toasty cigarettes stuffed to the tip with love. You should find out.

You would do well to follow her example. Smoking is the reason you feel like a rag. It's painful for you to even ask these questions.

"Can you tell me where to get cigarettes?"

"You should really ask someone younger and more mobile, sweetie."

"But you're the most mobile person of them all!"

She chuckles. "I'm glad you think so, but I still don't know where you can get cigarettes."

"I thought you were cool, with your wheels and all."

"An old woman in a wheelchair just doesn't look good holding a cigarette. Though I'm sure it lends you a roguish charm, sweetie."

"It's probably for the best. I don't really need a cigarette right this minute."

"I'm glad to hear you say it! Smoking can do some real damage to your respiratory system. But I think you already knew that."

"Good for you. Smoking is a stupid habit. Maybe I should quit too."

"Quitting smoking is one of the best things you can do for your health, officer."

What are you talking about? Smoking is one of the last remaining pleasures in this world. Trust me, there's not much out there for you.

You would do well to follow her example. Smoking is the reason you feel like a rag. It's painful for you to even ask these questions.

"But I have to smoke. It's part of my cool guy persona."

She sighs. "I'm sure it lends you a roguish charm, sweetie."

"You are my witness: I pledge to never pick up another cigarette as long as I live!" (Try to stop smoking.)

She smiles, obviously pleased. "I support your decision, officer."

Don't worry. This is not permanent. You can always just pick up a pack later.

"But I'm not going to quit today."

She sighs. "I know it's not easy, sweetie. But keep thinking about it."

"Does that mean you don't have tobacco? Or rolling paper? Or any cigarettes at all?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"Nothing, I was thinking of the lyrics to a song: Wanna roll with me?"

"Ah, yes -- probably 'Roll With Me' by The Fletchers. People often quote the Fletchers at me." She settles down. "Morell says it's my theme song."

"I want you to be my wheel-chaired partner in fighting crime, helping people, catching sequence killers."

"Sequence killers, oh my..." She sounds impressed. "But I think you already have a partner, sweetie."

"A partner who needs you to get back to helping the people of Martinaise."

"I know, I know. But there are also side mysteries. Sequence killers and forays into the para-natural."

"I can assure you, with absolute certainty: there are no sequence killings taking place in Martinaise."

"Now, gentlemen, no need to squabble." She turns to you. "I wouldn't be of much use to you anyway, sweetie."

"Why? Three heads are better than two."

"Thank you, but..." She looks out the window wistfully. "Martinaise isn't the most wheelchair-accessible place, you see. I'd slow you down."

"Perhaps another time?" She turns back to you with a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"You're probably right."

"I really would like to help out, but I don't want to slow you down. If it weren't for all the stairs and potholes in Martinaise, I'd join you for sure!" She looks out the window wistfully.

"Kim -- of course! I forgot I had you!"

"Yes, and it seems to me that you'd do well to stick close to him. He has the look of an upstanding officer of the law, someone you can lean on -- and, sweetie, you are looking unsteady."

"And even if he weren't there, I don't think you'd have much use for me." She looks down.

"You're probably right, Kim."

"It seems to me that you lucked out with your partner. He has the look of an upstanding officer of the law, someone you can lean on -- and, sweetie, you are looking unsteady."

Her face flushes with excitement, but she instantly recomposes herself. "I wouldn't be of much use to you, sweetie."

"On second thought, things are bad. I don't even know enough to know what I don't know about this world."

"Sweetie needs money. Do sweeties get money?"

"Oh sweetie." Her expression becomes very serious. "I heard your conversation with the manager about your... financial troubles. When do you get your next paycheck?"

If she could, this woman would feed and clothe you and every other sad, lost person on this earth.

You've got guns of steel and a chiselled jaw (somewhere under the bloated alcohol layer). Maybe she'd like to sponsor you?

"Right. Let's change the subject."

"Oh no... I'm so sorry I don't have money for you. If there's anything else I can do for you, just ask."

"I was hoping you could be my sponsor."

"Oh, I'm sure you would make a wonderful gigolo dear -- with those strong arms of yours. But welfare checks aren't all they're cracked up to be. My husband and I are barely scraping by."

She's not really lusting after those biceps, man. It's more like an appraisal you give to a healthy specimen.

Tug on her heartstrings.