Conversation · Cindy the SKULL

If there's pain about any particular home she's lost, she's buried it deep, fortified herself against it.

"It's not the nicest place, but I guess it'll have to do."

"It doesn't have to do anything at all. Nothing does." She looks at the paint dripping down the wall. "Like me. Right now, I'm doing nothing at all."

The inspiration will come to her once hell is set loose on the streets. It's too calm right now.

"Cool. I have other questions." (Conclude.)

"Shoot, piggy. It's what you do, isn't?"

Convince her to show you her art.

Sure, she's all draped up in ironic detachment, but everyone's gotta eat.

"I do have something to offer in exchange for your art. Money."

"Great, the little foray into the art world continues," murmurs the lieutenant, looking up.

His words are hiding a tinge of excitement -- he's not so detached from your pursuits after all.

"Blah-blah. I already told you, I'm not for sale, piggo." She looks almost disappointed by your lousy offer.

Told you! Told you these artist-types repel wealth.

Turn it around -- it's the seller who wields the power in this relationship.

"I don't care what you sell me and I don't care what you do with your money. It's your choice."

"Uh-oh, you're manipulating me!" She sounds almost fascinated by this discovery. "I do like a chance to rip off some stupid piggos. And I need a pack of cigarettes. And some paint."

"Okay, whatever, piggy. Time to leech off each other like the parasites we are. Let me see what I've got..." She reaches into her heavy coat and pulls out a small piece of plastic coated thick with emulsion.

Even the lieutenant leans in closer to inspect the work.

"Here. Happy?" The plastic looks sad and damaged, as if it's been ripped out of some bigger piece. A glitzy barnacle of colours covers its surface.

Interesting. You can immediately see multiple ways to interpret this piece. What is the experience that the artist is trying to create? What bodies and spaces are they seeking to explore?

It looks like a palette. Nothing more than a board for mixing paint.

Remember, this is a buyer's market. You're the one who's in charge of pricing.

"Let's come back to this later."

"Suit yourself." She tucks away the painting and closes her coat. You hear waves breaking on the nearby shore.

"Let's talk about the price again."

"What about it?" She tilts her head, waiting for your offer.

"I have more questions about the painting."

"Ask away."

"I'll pay 25 reál."

"Alright. Can't complain about that. You've got yourself a deal." She gives you the painting.

Splendid! Your first physical asset. But no time to stop -- money grows old unless it keeps moving. You need to find a buyer, preferably someone who will pay a high price for such an exclusive piece from a local artist.

I could sell it to Garte, hang it up in the Whirling-in-Rags.

And become a small-time art peddler? No, think bigger.

The Mega Rich Light-Bending Guy seems blindingly rich.

Good call. He's already handed over 100 reál. Let's hustle him for even more moolah.

"Look at us, coming to an agreement. Who'd have thought?" A breeze blows strands of hair across her forehead as she leans into the balustrade.

"Anything else you want? I'm in a good mood -- but it won't last long."

Good call. Sure, he said he doesn't carry much money on him, but he must have something else to trade. Let's hustle!

Good call. He's definitely the type who might be interested in art. Let's go hustle him and score us some extreme moolah.

Good call. He certainly seems the type. Let's go hustle him and score us some extreme moolah.

This place isn't exactly bursting with rich people.

That blindingly rich guy is certainly the type. He's already handed over 100 reál. Let's hustle him for even more moolah.

That blindingly rich guy is the type. Sure, he said he doesn't carry much money on him, but he must have something else to trade. Let's hustle!

That high-net-worth individual -- wasn't he an investor? Let's go convince him to buy some exclusive local art.

That blindingly rich guy seems the type, the one you met in a container? Let's go hustle him and score us some extreme moolah.

There must be someone around here with heavy pockets and an interest in the local art. Tell you what, have a wander round and I'll let you know if I hear any wealth.

Okay, where's a good place to start looking?

I got some vibes from that person inside the container you unlocked in the harbour. Why didn't you speak to them before? Let's head over there right now and fix that.

I got some vibes from that container you moved with the crane in the harbour. Let's see what's inside. There isn't a door yet that Savvy's VIP status couldn't open.

I got some vibes from the harbour. Let's explore that area again. Who knows what we might find hidden among all those shipping containers.

We haven't got into the harbour yet. Let's worm our way in and scope it out. Some of the best things in life come inside shipping containers.

Wait, you can hear wealth?

Yes, if you know what to listen for. That's what happens when you've been in the game for as long as I have. Your senses get tuned in to more opportune frequencies.

What about Joyce? She's wealthy.

Nah, she'd probably send the entire Wild Pines legal team after you if she knew you were trading goods around their harbour. She's ready and poised for a hostile takeover.

Evrart can buy it on behalf of the Union.

Hmm, doing business with communist dictatorships only works if you've got long-term plans in place... which you don't.

"I can part with 50 reál."

"Not bad! I guess I'll take it." She holds back her excitement as she gives you the painting.

"How about 10 reál?"