"Oh," she raises her brow as to say -- and?

"You're going now?"

"Yes. Mr. Claire has a two-month head start. I can't let it grow any bigger. And I've exhausted all my options from here."

We? She generally avoids that term with her employers.

There are no employers. She's a member of the board. Probably a partner.

"You are the Wild Pines. There are no employers."

"You are the Citizens Militia. There are no superiors." She turns to you, rope in hand.

"What? Of course I have superiors."

"That's right, detective. And next time you should confer with them before you go setting events in motion."

Despite his words he's not really sure whether to be annoyed with you or not.

Events are already in motion. Whether your actions accelerated or momentarily retarded their progress, even the lieutenant cannot really say.

"Even after all this time I still don't really understand who you are or what your angle is."

"I have not deceived you. I told you who exactly who I was -- Rejoyce Leyton."

"I answer for my own actions. I don't hide behind some faceless organization."

"Here I am. I am the face and I'm here to answer -- Rejoyce Leyton."

"That's right. We're all answerable to someone."

"Wait -- that must mean you're really rich."

"I am." She tugs on the rope.

"I am." (Nod.)

"You're wrong, detective. And next time you should confer with those superiors before you go setting events in motion."

"You misunderstand, detective. We're all answerable to someone."

You know what this lady needs? Some political advice. Even though she's a high-powered corporate executive and you're an amnesiac degenerate, you're pretty sure she needs to hear your opinion on this.

"What further plans do you have for the age of capital, ma'am?"

"In short, detective, we will revoke the pigment standard. Your money will no longer need to be black like chitin -- and there will be so much more of it."

"Wow."

"I know." She tugs on the rope.

"Don't forget to purge the world of degenerates."

"I will try to do so, detective. If not for you, then for Revachol."

"Good."

"Is it?" She tugs on the rope.

"Use vague rhetoric obsessed with its own legitimacy -- like I do."

"I will try keep the interests of the Moralist International in mind during our talks, detective."

"Very good."

"On the contrary, detective." She tugs on the rope. "It's a real drag."

"Don't forget to shoot the bourgeoisie in the head."

"I don't want to do that, detective."

"Why not?"

"I do not want to shoot myself in the head." She tugs on the rope.

And what about the next time?

"This won't be the last strike. There'll be another, then another, until the rule of law unravels."

"Good. They will start asking for more... And more..."

Look to the water falling, without saying a single thing.

"Is this... safe though? I mean... Won't they start doing it all the time?"

It is. It is well within her authority. It's been clear for some time that this woman is more than she lets on.

"I will surrender Terminal B to the Union."

Say nothing.

"On the second day, a great skua was shot down above the flagship Lysergique. The bird was preserved and brought back. Along with pollen." She looks to the sky, then back at you.

"'Après la vie, la mort,' they summarized it for the queen and Dolores Dei; 'Après la mort, la vie encore! Après le monde, le gris. Après le gris, le monde encore!'"

After life, death. After death, life again. After the isola, the pale. After the pale, isola again.

"Sounds political."

"Eight? Is that a normal number?"

"It was anything but normal. There was no precedent, people thought she was punishing the admirals, or had gone mad, or both..."

"You said you would. One day."

She nods. "It may be the only break we've ever caught as a species. The last one for four hundred years."

"You said I'm uneducated, remember?"

"Typically arrogant of me.... Absent-minded as well. Interisolary travel has left holes in my consciousness, I'm afraid."

"Tell me."

"Do we have the time?"

"We do for this, officer."

His arm rises for a second, as if he's about to put it on your shoulder. He doesn't, but the intention was there...

"We do for this," she nods.