"The fuck about it?"

Yes. This troubadour has it. You can feel it.

He means Mañana, the laid-back striker at the gates.

"So yeah, he's the one you wanna talk to. He's fucking crazy about that armour shit. Coming here, pretending like he likes cows, tryin'a catch a peep at Cuno's armour... Go to the gates -- ask him yourself."

He drills his temples with his fingers in some strange, aggressive gesture. "Cuno doesn't give a shit about that freak armour. Cuno threw that shit away."

"Look at him!" He points to the body. "Fucking growth hormone shit. He's a giant. The armour's too big for any man."

"Okay, another question then."

"Shoot that shit at Cuno."

"Have you seen anyone suspicious around?"

"Just a couple of pigs sniffing around in the dirt. That seems pretty fucking suspicious to Cuno."

"Yeah, you tell the fägäri, Cuno!"

Looks like you're a fägäri now, whatever that means. The suspicious question doesn't really work in antagonistic situations.

"Just a lone pig trying to sugar-talk some kids. That seems pretty fucking suspicious to Cuno."

"Do you know who he was?"

"Cuno's fuck-gimp." He picks up a rock. "Cuno uses the fuck-gimp for target practice."

He's trying to hide the fact that he doesn't know.

"I meant who he was. Before he died?"

"Cuno knows what you meant. Cuno's not a snitch, that's all." He shakes his head, clearly offended. "Tryin'a make Cuno sing into the popophone..."

"So you don't know anything."

"Cuno knows all kinds of shit. Cuno's not a snitch, that's all." He shakes his head, clearly offended. "Tryin'a make the Cuno sing into the popophone..."

He could've just said he doesn't know.

"Okay."

"Yeah it's fucking okay!" He throws the rock. It misses. "Gotta have a gimp for rock practice..."

"Don't ask the pigs for permission, Cuno. Don't ask the pigs for shit!"

"You could've just said you don't know."

"Cuno knows shit. Cuno's not a snitch, that's all." He shakes his head, clearly offended. "Tryin'a make Cuno sing into the popophone..."

End of conversation. Very strong. You should be this stoic.

"More on this later. Right now let's talk about something else."

"You're testing Cuno's patience here."

"Get lost, f****t!"

"There are contusions all over his body. Did you do that?"

"Fuck are you talking about? What is this con-tush-on shit?" He grabs his head like it's suddenly hurting.

"He says you're stupid, Cuno! They want to make you stupid again!"

"A contusion is a bruise. I'm talking about the marks your stones left on the corpse."

"Oh, did Cuno make your shit-sniffing harder? Obstruction of shit-sniffing?" He lets go of his head, suddenly feeling better. "This is Cuno's Kingdom. Cuno fucking rules here."

"Hmmm..." you hear the lieutenant hum.

He's thinking the kid has amassed quite the vocabulary of law-enforcement terms. But he's not going to stick his nose into this.

Proceed with the questioning.

Good. That's what the lieutenant from Precinct 57 would have done as well.

"Me and my partner are wondering, where did you pick up so many police terms?"

"Me and my partner are wondering..." The demonic hiss behind the fence gets louder. "Do you guys puff Peter?"

Cuno erupts into laughter, pointing his finger at you, then Kim, then back at you...

An unfortunate choice of words, the lieutenant from Precinct 57 thinks. He looks downwind at the rotting corpse. He could use a cigarette right about now.

An unfortunate choice of words, the lieutenant from Precinct 57 thinks. He looks at the harbour walls looming overhead. He could use a cigarette right about now.

"Yes, that's what I'm saying. You're stupid."

Cuno lets go of his head. "Get the fuck out of here, calling Cuno stupid? Pigs come to Cuno for guidance, then say he's stupid? The fuck is up with that?"

"They're lost without you, Cuno! They need you. You're in control of this!"

"Why don't you figure your shit out yourself -- before you come to Detective Cuno for help?"

"Hmmm... maybe we should." The lieutenant raises an eyebrow.

Got told by a twelve-year old. Here's a tip for the future: If you wanna win an argument, wait for my sign. Don't just go barging in.

"I hate words too."

"Words are fucking shit, make you stupid!" He spits on the ground. "Cuno's got his own words now -- Cuno-words."

Has Cuno been to some kind of school? Probably a school for children with behavioural difficulties.

Better not to mention it.

How is that better? At least get back to the corpse then.

"Cuno, shouldn't you be at school or something?"

"That's the past, pig. Cuno's not there anymore. Cuno did his time." He nods solemnly. "Now ask about that pig corpse shit and don't go sniffing into Cuno's past!"

"Pigs come to take you back, Cuno!" the hat-wearing fiend shrieks. "Tryin'a dig up dirt on you!"

"I have behavioural difficulties too."

"Watch out, Cuno, he's trying to relate to you!"

"Cuno doesn't give a shit about your handicap. Get a wheelchair or something. Cuno doesn't care."