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Heather is still on the roof, though it seems it is her makeshift shrine of incense, crystals and meditational herbs that has plummeted the neckbreaking drop from the precipice at the top of the abandoned shopping mall, having crashed into the kerb and tarmac of the car park beneath her.
You realise instantly it was wise of you to wait and not mention Finlay, for it seems Heather is upset about something else entirely. She must not have recognised or even seen the scene below with Annabel and the Black Motorcycle Rider. Another revelation might finslly push her over the edge...
Tears (also some mucus) streaming down her face, mottled in clumps around her eyelashes, Heather wails...
-You... you told me this ritual would work! To de-centre men from my life?? They sent NUDES! Nudes of me to everyone I know! That... sick 4kennel videogame imageboard! And they didn't even use my actual body for most of them, but instead some AI model trained on far more attractive strippers, adult entertainers! And the most insulting one: they took my prettiest photo, my beach swimwear profile photo, and they actually covered up my body with more modest clothes!! This is so sick (Heather weeps snd sobs) and it is ALL YOUR FAULT!!
Natalie looks at you sceptically:
-So is this... your girlfriend?
>Reply to Natalie: why, do you want a threesome? Boy on girl on girl? Ride the roast tricycle? Pump and munch the triWANGular?
>Reply to Heather: could I please have a link to these nudes, please? You know, to help find the perpetrators, track them down and congratulate- I mean, punish them
>Stay there, Heather. I am coming to you (rejoin her on roof)
>Oh, also did you know Finlay has a new girlfriend? This really beautiful actress named Annabel?
>Reply, gesturing frantically at Heather swaying at the edge of the Dead Mall roof: Natalie - aren't you some relationship counsellor or something? Help her...!
>Reply: I am so attracted to the sight of weeping women. I really don't understand it. It is just... the pure suffering
>Run up to the roof, to console Heather. When you get close, close enough to comfort and embrace her, lick the wet dewdrops of her grief and humiliation like some sort of bizarre tear-sucking vampire, whilst making a face reminiscent of Nicolas Cage
>This is all a distraction. You must chase after Annabel and the Black Motorbike Rider NOW
>Something else...?
