Yes, of course. Now we're on the right track...

Yes, of course. Now we're on the right track...

Inhale.

It smells like...

We're getting crates and pallets calling to mind vast stands of winter pines, a swirl of ancient odours absorbed by heavy carpet fibres, but also a pervasive, treacly sweetness that somehow reminds you of kola nuts...

The whole place could probably use a good deep cleaning, you think.

"Well? Smelling much communism around the Union boss's office?"

"Hmmm."

Meanwhile, Evrart Claire clatters away on his typewriter, wilfully indifferent to your presence.

Meanwhile, the man behind the desk clatters away on his typewriter, wilfully indifferent to your presence.

"Hush, Kim, I'm detecting."

The lieutenant gives you a sharp sideways look.

... an office? Something officious? Is that a word? There's a bit of dust in the air that may be triggering your allergies.

Where am I?

An important place. One of the last bastions of the left in Martinaise. Perhaps here you'll find the man who'll help you get organised?

But you can't just come out and ask him. You should make your introduction first. Pay homage. This is a man of stature.

Meanwhile, the man of stature clatters away on his typewriter, wilfully indifferent to your presence.

Now this place seems promising from an ideological angle...