Below the damage, the weeks of decomposition, all the swollen indignity of mortality -- he was 42 years old?
Intellect
Before thought effects; other dialogue conditions may apply.
507 · Voice lines
Below the damage, the weeks of decomposition, all the swollen indignity of mortality -- he was 42 years old?
How old are you? That's where this is going. Forty-five thousand litres of raw alcohol has left its disfigurements. What lies beneath, you wonder.
The light is off on the third floor of the Whirling-in-Rags. The young woman is gone who knows where. Safe, closed off. Her form no longer moves behind the glass there...
There, 1.2 kilometres over the cold water of the bay, through a thick snowstorm melting flake by flake in the waves you see the smallest rectangle, barely visible.
There, 1.2 kilometres over the cold water of the bay, blue from the distance and the air, you see the smallest rectangle, barely visible.
Is there something here that would indicate a sniper used this place as a nest for taking the shot? Just some urban detritus, a bottle and a dilapidated old comms tower.
The light is off on the third floor of the Whirling-in-Rags. The young woman is gone, in Precinct 57. Safe, closed off. Her form no longer moves behind the glass there...
Are you sure? You haven't ruled out the shot coming from here yet...
A smoking assailant who favours Tioumoutiri to Astra or Drouin? Cigarette butts are part of the campfire set -- they're also everywhere.
There, 1.2 kilometres over the wave-crossed bay, through heavy, dark grey curtains of rain you see the smallest rectangle, barely visible.
A glowing light on the third floor of the Whirling-in-Rags. With binoculars you would see a young woman's shape move behind the glass, her limbs long and slender.
It's glowing in the dark night. The lights are on. Klaasje must be in there... looks like she's kept her promise not to go out at night anymore.
To warm his hands before he pulled the trigger? There are no markings on the ground for a tripod, he would have had to lie on a mattress. This is simply not a good spot for a 1.2 kilometre shot.
It's late. There is no light on the third floor of the Whirling-in-Rags. No shape moves behind it. Klaasje must be out on the town.
The salty water has corroded the ladder to nothing but two thin orange rails. In addition, there is no stable nest up there. It would have been useless.
Ballistics. In Klaasje's room. Do it properly.
Ballistics. In Klaasje's room. Do it properly.