Medium · Esprit de Corps ≥ 4
Easy. Walk back from the provocation. They're armed, and they outnumber us. The lieutenant tries to establish eye contact with you.
Psyche
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
623 · Voice lines
Easy. Walk back from the provocation. They're armed, and they outnumber us. The lieutenant tries to establish eye contact with you.
But... they don't want you back at the station, do they?
He's just glad you're both safe for now.
There's no point in pushing it further, he thinks. This is already a victory. We'll learn more about this eighth Hardie sooner or later.
I see what you're doing there. Let's push him.
The lieutenant adjusts his electronic wristwatch. Psychological and physical training from an unknown government body. I noticed it. You noticed it. They haven't.
I see what you're doing there. Let's push him.
The lieutenant adjusts his electronic wristwatch. Psychological and physical training from an unknown government body. I noticed it. You noticed it. They haven't.
Go for it -- the lieutenant has his eyes set on the fat guy. Push Angus. We're almost there.
The coroner and his assistant are wrapped in blue: hands covered in blue gloves, mouths covered by blue masks, bodies by blue aprons. The coroner wipes his brow, scalpel still in his hand. "Get the light. Shine it in his mouth," he tells his assistant. The coroner squats, to better see as the light illumines the darkness inside. "Well, shit. Can't blame them for missing that. Get the saw, Alan. This just got fun."
Station 41. A man carries a crate of rusted, unused badges. "You think these would net us something at the annual auction?" A balding detective drags a comb futilely across his head. "Shit, who'd want those? Just dump them into the river."
Not just granite -- tightly packed RCM sergeant material.
And he still isn't. People aren't afraid of good cops in the way Ruby was afraid of you, he thinks, then turns back to his men.
He fires a nod of solidarity in your direction, as if to say: take your time. It's okay.
Please, please do not melt down again. We're so close to wrapping this up and getting out of here.
No -- he already is a sergeant. That's what you're feeling. He just wasn't sure what you are.
We're all under stress. This is turning into a great big mess. I'm not judging. Just keep it together.