Medium · Perception ≥ 4
Jingling his car keys in his pocket.
Motorics
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
703 · Voice lines
Jingling his car keys in his pocket.
Think! You can detect. In Jamrock. Boogie Street. Couron. Le Royaume, underground. Coal City. On the 8/81-- it will all be yours to sieve through when the last snow has melted.
It says: "Tensions rise in Terminal YC In light of the Débardeurs' strike in Terminal B, among representatives of heavy industry in Coal City..." you read.
The smell of sweat and glue, the worn floorboards...
'República', a filterless cigarette from Mesque.
"Girl child," you hear her say. "Girl child. Girl child..."
Damn dog, taking up all your space. The fish smell is too rank too, though.
He smells of heavy motor oils. And his breath -- of high-tar content cigarettes. Probably Astra Whites.
His physique reeks of heavy motor oils. His breath smells of high-tar content cigarettes. Probably Astra Whites.
A large metal pendant hangs from the rear view mirror. The pendant features a sun crowned with wavy rays.
Fumes of heavy fuel oil waft over you, making your eyes sting. The odour mixes with cigarette residue.
The back end of the cabin has a small perch to sleep. Large ashtrays. There are several suns and wheels sown into the curtains.
"Psst..." You can hear the would-be leader whisper to his friend: "Don't let him know he doesn't understand the fish thing."
Is that a bald spot? It's hard to tell for sure with the fused-together spikes, but it looks like he's balding.
They've got one speaker. One. Uno. Un.
You hear a wave crashing outside, not far. It's a big one. The rumble dissipates into the bassline...