Conversation · Ruby, the Instigator

"Yeah, really?"

"Okay... then what happened?"

"Hold on, Klaasje only... likes truly buff men!"

"She does know how to pick 'em."

"Oh, so that's where you were going with this." She shakes her head. "Do I really seem like someone who would do something as lame as committing murder out of jealousy?"

"And... despite everything, you helped her by staging the lynching?"

"Yeah. The girl seemed terrified. The merc was beyond caring what happened to his mortal coil. It was a no-brainer."

"Are you a... girl-liker?"

"What the hell, man?!" She laughs. "Yeah, why not? I've gotten worse."

Her hand slipped from the dial of the compressor for a moment, almost turning it down. Then she put her hand back -- not yet. Not yet...

"Is peeping... one of your hobbies?"

"Wow. Pissing, pinball, and now peeping. I'm just not following your insinuations, detective."

"Klaasje said... you may have used the peephole in her wall to spy on her..."

"Damn. That girl's pretty, but not that pretty. In fact, no one's pretty enough to waste time skulking about the Whirling, drilling holes in walls..."

"So you haven't been.. watching Klaasje through a hole in.. wall?"

"Nope. Look, she has an effect on people -- or had, before you sent her off in your Moralintern meat grinder. It's impossible not to look at her when she walks into the room -- and very difficult to look away. But -- travel enough, and you realize..."

"...for the same reason that she's everyone's type as an object of desire, she's not irreplaceable."

Right on.

Wrong. That kind of pussy is never replaceable.

"Nope. Look, she has an effect on people. That je ne sais quoi that makes it impossible not to look at her when she walks into the room -- and very difficult to look away. But -- travel enough, and you realize..."

"It's just, the hole in Klaasje's wall is.. pretty suspicious..."

"Look, I'm not aware of any hole in Klaasje's wall. And if I had been, I would have told her to get it sealed -- that's what friends do."

"There's a... hole in the wall. You can see into Klaasje's room... I wouldn't blame you if you've.."

"If I want to stare at a pretty girl, I can pick one up at a bar -- or, worst case scenario, look at a naughty photo. Who has time to go skulking about the Whirling, drilling holes in walls?"

"Klaasje looks like... a girl in one of your posters. She seems to be your type."

"My type? She's everyone's type. She's your type. Are you sure you're not the one who was excited about the peephole?"

"Actually..." (grotesquely whine from the pain) "I did get pretty excited..."

"Cool, man, cool. I'm glad you got off on it -- what the fuck are we talking about?"

"What the fuck, man? She's everyone's type. She's your type. Are you sure you're not the one who was excited about the peephole?"

She's beginning to suspect you've broken into her lorry now.

"I'm not following your clever insinuations, detective."

"There are... other things I... ask about." (Conclude.)

"Go ahead -- it's your body."

"Hngh..."

And mine too, he thinks -- but keep on. This must be done.

"Klaasje said you got very... angry when she started seeing Lely -- threatened her."

"Yeah, one time when we'd both been drinking, I said some heated things about how dangerous her patterns with men were."

"I was a little worried she'd blow it out of proportion in her head -- all the drugs she was doing can make you feel like you're living in a Dolorian tragedy."

By the way! Dolorian tragedies are still held in high regard for innovation in language and motifs. They are also know for overwrought emotions leading to catastrophic outcomes.

"Did you leave any... flowers for Klaasje on the roof?"

"No, gifts of flowers and candy aren't really my style."

"Okay, so you... didn't leave May bells..." (Conclude.)

"No, I did not."

"These weren't just flowers -- they... symbols... of... Revolution." (Push through the pain.)

"So now I'm leaving Revolutionary symbols around... Come on."

Was that... pity? For you? She sees you're grasping for straws here.

"But Klaasje was... mourning..."

"I never did understand why, when someone dies, a hothouse's worth of flowers has to die too."

"Not even wildflowers? May bell... for example?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Nope."

"Would you say that Lely was... a likeable person?"

"I didn't like him. Hardened mercenaries aren't particularly likeable types."

"There's nothing more... personal that you had against him? Perhaps his... way with women?"

"You think I was envious of his conquests? Look, pussy's not a problem for me. And definitely not a reason to off someone."

See her confident gaze, her toned arms -- yeah, she wouldn't have had much trouble in the intimacy department.

"Did you feel... protective of the Union?"

"Yeah, sure, and I didn't like Wild Pines sending in those foreign hirelings -- me and a fuck-ton of other people around here."

I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but I don't think she's perjuring herself.

She didn't hate him, okay?

"You don't feel... sympathy for mercs? It's hard work."