The tarpaulin cloak swings alone for a while there in the wind. No one's coming for it…

The tarpaulin cloak swings alone for a while there in the wind. No one's coming for it anymore.

Looks like someone left his tarpaulin cloak hanging on the railing here. There is a white rectangle clearly visible on its back.

"Lieutenant..." (Point to the cloak.) "I think that's mine."

"Yes. It does bear the RCM insignia. And we're the only detectives in Martinaise."

"You think I should get it?"

"The service cloak issued to you by your station? Yes, yes I do."

Grab the cloak. [Leave.]

As your fingers touch the tarpaulin it almost feels like the cloak wants to deliver a message of comfort through your fingertips...

I will shield you from the elements and give my life for yours -- that's what the cloak is relaying.

"Look, lieutenant. (Point to the cloak.) Someone left their cloak behind."

"Yes. It was probably you." He looks at you. "It does bear the RCM insignia after all."

This is your cloak. You can feel it.

A tarpaulin cloak is still caught on the railing. No one has claimed it for their own.

"Do you really think this cloak is mine? Should I go for it? Jump?"

"The cloak? I do think it's yours, yes. As to whether you should go for it..." He looks over the ledge, at the cold pavement below.

"Well, it doesn't seem too dangerous -- two metres tops. Whenever you're ready to do it, I'll be right behind you."

The cloak looks like a bag of goodies floating in the wind. Who knows what its pockets may hide?!

"Yeah, not right now." [Leave.]

Look around.

The wind is aggressive up here. The lieutenant looks at the enormous crane towering in the distance, over the container yard.

The look in his eyes is a mix of the engineer-like interest and the wonder of a six year old seeing a horse for the first time.

That machine is a Kvalsund 10-20 HK.

"Kvalsund 10-20 HK..." (Point at the crane.)

"Is it?" He looks at you, impressed. "Kvalsund makes lot of heavy equipment, but this is phenomenal even for them."

"But I digress. We were focusing on your cloak here." He looks at the sad piece of fabric flapping in the wind.

"It's just a machine, lieutenant. Like a giant hammer or a pair of pliers. Nothing to see here."

"I think there's a certain beauty in this giant pair of pliers. But you're right, we were focusing on your cloak..."

He turns back to the sad piece of fabric flapping in the wind.

"Motherfucker..." (Let out a whistle.) "Now that's a huge crane!"

"Yes, that's one way of putting it." He turns to you with a faint smile, then looks back at the crane. "It's certainly an impressive achievement of engineering."

Let him have this moment of wonder.

His eyes trace the crane's contour as if trying to memorize its majestic shape. Then he notices your gaze.

"Yes... we were in the middle of something -- your cloak..."

Then he turns back to the sad piece of fabric flapping in the wind.

"What exactly are we doing up here?"

"I was under the assumption we could ask the leader of this Union to help us get this body down. This is why we're here, right?" He doesn't wait for you to answer.

"Or it could be that we're just exploring." He looks around, wind rustling his hair.

He's thinking you've forgotten where you are again.

"I was under the impression we're on our way to meet the king of this castle under siege -- Evrart -- one of the people we're interviewing. This way we may be able to get around his henchmen."

"What are we doing? We're awfully close to breaking into the industrial harbour -- they're bound to have information for us. I thought that was our intention..."

Go for the cloak -- jump over the ledge!

As you leap in the air, a chilly breeze engulfs you, sharpening you senses.

What was that about a drink? Wouldn't that ruin the moment?

Don't be ridiculous, of course not.

Damn, you're right! Beer gushing into my face would really nail it right now.

Yeah. You'd be like the ultimate rock and roll mega star. A flying legend.

No, a drink would ruin the pristine beauty of this moment of ultimate sobriety.

What have you done to my precious alcoholic friend? You're no fun anymore.

I have a bottle in hand right now -- I could go for it!

Don't really know why you haven't yet.

That would be incredibly unsound at this moment.

Time is running out -- continue the voyage and celebrate later.

Close your eyes, let your senses take in the world around you.

Ankles tingling from the tension, blood roaring in your ears -- you are ready for your rendezvous with the concrete pavement below.

Martinaise goes about its daily routine as you soar through the air. The loud voices of protesters mix with the engine sounds from the traffic jam; waves crash against the pier and dense, salty sea air fills your lungs.

Also, you should be having a drink right now -- you should have a bottle of alcohol in your hand right now.

He's so on the money, bratan. Just imagine yourself dual-wielding a bottle and a flaming cigarette! Whilst airborne!

Don't let go of the moment yet.

The little backyard, Kingdom of Cuno, looks almost idyllic when it's not dominated by a decomposing human being.

And its de-facto ruler, Cuno the Gremlin King, is pointing at you, talking to his friend. What is he saying?