Conversation · Cindy the SKULL

"Probably the Wild Pines rep. We should talk to her." He nods in her direction. "She's a professional negotiator, though. I have the feeling she will be very cooperative -- while telling us nothing."

"You should take the lead, ask her unexpected questions -- you know, do your thing. Don't be afraid to get a bit wacky. Throwing her off is our best bet."

"Good idea, piggies. Run along now, fuck her shit up good. Impound that boat while you're at it. I'd like to watch her swim back to Ozonne."

"The Wild Pines rep?"

"Yes. We should go talk to her." He nods in her direction. "She's a professional negotiator, though. I have the feeling she will be very cooperative -- while telling us nothing."

"Who is she?"

"Isn't it part of your job to know all the illustrious personages 'round this shithole? She's the Wild Pines representative. Madame Professional Negotiator in the flesh -- and the flimsy linen." Her eyes narrow to slits.

"Something morbid about old ladies trying to look young."

That's rich coming from a young girl dressed up like a granny.

"Aren't you a young lady trying to look old?"

"Oh, but that's the way it should be. The natural order of things."

"That's the Wild Pines rep, right?"

"Madame Professional Negotiator in the flesh -- and the flimsy linen." She narrows her eyes. "Something morbid about old ladies trying to look young."

"You mean Joyce?'

"On a first-name basis with her, are we? Piggy's moving up in the world."

"Yeah, I don't like her either."

"Pig's not half as dumb as he looks." She gives you a stately nod of approval.

"Hold on. What's Ozonne?"

"It's where they grow whores like that one over there, and their whore men."

"Why all the negativity?"

"Have you got a crush on her? Aching for an opportunity to defend her honour?"

Ozonne is an archipelago two days' travel away from Revachol. Its moneyed residents, used to posh restaurants and upscale boutiques, rarely have reason to visit Martinaise.

"Do you know anything about the recent murder?"

"I ain't no snitch, pigstein." She wrinkles her nose. "Go forth and forage in someone else's shit. No shortage of squealers in these parts."

"Actually -- there is a shortage of people who talk to us in a normal, calm, informative manner."

"We weren't put on this earth to make your life pleasant, fuck-o."

"Is that government fuel oil?"

(Whip out your finger pistols.) "It's your lucky day! I'm looking to acquire some original art by the crème de la crème."

"I want to see your painting again."

"Sure, piggo." She reaches into her heavy coat and pulls out a small piece of plastic coated thick with emulsion.

"What are you doing to the wall?"

"Can't you tell? I'm painting a beautiful mural. An aero-graffito visible from low orbit..."

"I haven't really started it yet. I'm waiting for the right words." She studies the wall, suddenly pensive.

"I have an opinion on this -- wanna hear it?" (Proceed.)

"Yeah?"

"I like public art. Keep doing what you're doing, don't mind me."

"Thanks. I'm sure the inspiration will come to me now that I have an official RCM stamp of approval."

She means the opposite.

You've lessened her desire to deface the building.

"I'm gonna have to stop you. This is hooliganism."

"Let's be realistic. What are you going to do, climb up there?"

"You heard your partner, piggy. I'm unstoppable."

I don't condone the idea of using physical force on her. She's a girl.

"What are you gonna do, climb up here? I'm unstoppable."

"Actually I don't have an opinion. I lied."

"Lying is cool, I guess." She absent-mindedly paints a red streak on her left cheek.

"So you don't know what to write?"

"Have you ever tried your hand at graffito? When faced with a blank wall, most people write unimaginative stuff like Pigs Go Home and Mona was here."

"We rarely see pigs 'round here, though, just Union cads -- and my name's not Mona, so..."

She wants it to be something true -- and total.

"Why are you so committed to defacing the building?"

"This place is severely lacking in havoc. Not even the occasional trash can fire to break up the tedium."

"I thought I'd mix it up, you know, summon the forces of crime and social chaos -- with a wall-sized invitation."

"I've got you cornered! Hand over that brush!"

"Ooh, police brutality. That's the good stuff!"

How come you're letting this baby rat run circles around you? End this now.

(Get closer and stare her down.) "Cindy, give me the goddamned brush."

"Fine, take it, I'm all out of fuel oil anyway." She drops the paintbrush at your feet.

You know what you've got in that fuel canister you scavenged from your Kineema? Red-dyed heavy fuel oil. Time to get to proper work, artiste.

(Stand your ground with a look of weary determination.) "Cindy, I'm going to stand here till you hand over that paintbrush."