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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:HXAec4CG Mon 23 Oct 2023 10:03:40 No.5804981 View View Report

Quoted By:

'Mutated' is a classic Court exaggeration: it's not as though you're sprouting feathers. It is a fact, though, that hundreds of sacred transformations have left their mark, rendering your proportions a touch uncanny around the torso— like you were squeezed from a tube. There's the constellations of track marks up and down your arms and neck as well. And the fact that you're lobster-red and shiny from the steam. Multiple options, now that you think on it.

Only one response, though. "Have you been spending a lot of time examining my mutated form, Dib?"

He hasn't. His eyes haven't slid lower than your neck. This is besides the point.

"...Er..." says Dib. This is the point. "...I... for a person of interest, there is a necessary amount of..."

He can't outright say 'no,' because that would suggest his 'mutated' comment was baseless. He certainly has no sound way to say 'yes.' If you're to be strung up here like a lacquered duck, you intend to string Dib up here with you. "I'm a person of interest?"

Dib folds his arms. "Yes."

"Are you interested in me, Mr. Blaine?"

You can count this pause off in your head. "..Yes, in a professional—"

"I meant sexually," you say.

Eight bless him. It's hard for Dib to redden with his kind of complexion, but he manages it, and it's very nearly adorable. Not that you have any passion toward jumping his particular bones— he is by definition incompatible— and not that you're much of a seducer overall. You've been told much the opposite. But Dib's not discriminatory, and his buttons are obvious and easily pressed.

He's folded his arms now, presumably to look in-control. "I am a married man, Mr. Graves. You forget your current position. Would you like the bellows worked again?"

It's not nearly as hot in here as it was earlier: he's informing you that he can change that. Not that it matters much. "You realize I've already said all I know? I have nothing to hide."

"Very likely."

"What precisely would I be hiding? I work for nobody. Nobody tipped me off. I have no motive except my own interest in the Court's machinations, which is no crime. My personal habits are irrelevant to the matter, regardless of whether the Court approves or not—"

"Our machinations?" Dib squeezes his arm. "You make it out as if we're some great villains, Mr. Graves. Everything we do is for the good of humanity."

You should tread carefully. He can do real damage to you, if pushed.

>[1] Tell Dib that *he* might have a sincere belief in the Wind Court's stated goals, but that doesn't ensure every one of his ilk does. Corruption takes root fast.
>[2] Ask Dib how the Wind Court intends to use the Crown for the good of humanity.
>[3] Tell Dib that 'humanity' contains quite a lot of the unnatural.
>[4] Tell Dib that the bespoke torture chambers don't do a lot for their public image.
>[4] Write-in.

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:3ICU1KoN Thu 17 Nov 2022 11:30:18 No.5466009 View View Report

Quoted By:

Geez, maybe it's not a small swarm. And they're not small bugs, either: it's a lot of fat brown beetles, big as the pad of your thumb. They've parked themselves, hovering, straight between you and the cop. Somebody clears their throat, and you crane your head to see the other guy they slapped handcuffs on— he's vaguely familiar. Teddy, you think it was. The weirdo. He jerks his chin toward the beetles. The beetles jerk themselves onto your face. You cough and sputter and their hook feet claw into your face and your neck and you've had— you've had beetles on your— recently, you've—

"Lottie," Teddy says urgently. ("Shut up!" the cop says.)

—you've— you cough. A little trickle of black comes out.

*

You are not C.R. Fawkins. You are handcuffed, though, and Lucky is maybe two feet from your face. Not like a hunch, like your interrogator has a lot of suspiciously Lucky-like qualities: you mean that that's his face right there. And his shiny name badge says "DUNCAN BLAINE" on it. It's him. But there's no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, and if you were— you were just at the fire, weren't you? Which he definitely, 100% set, and he must've been lucid to do it. But now he's... he's...

The beetles flock off of your face, and you meet Gil's gaze. Damn. Damn. You're going to have to save him again, pretty soon, or things are just going to get way out of whack. He jangles his handcuffs at you.

"Miss Fawkins," Lucky says coldly. "If that was a failed attempt at a 'rite,' your timing couldn't be worse."

Your timing couldn't be worse? His timing couldn't be worse. Yeah. Yeah. So there.

(Choices next.)

Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh

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Bathic !!1oQZB1czRDh ID:a/ozk0Es Thu 12 May 2022 06:32:48 No.5264039 View View Report

Quoted By:

>Uno reverse card

"Um, no," you say. "No, I'd like to— I'd like to circle back to the 'sent here to torment you' thing. That's stupid, and wrong, and— and rude. And stupid. How does that even make sense? All I did was come in to nicely congratulate you, and now I've come back to nicely offer my help, which is very valuable, and which you asked for earlier, by the way—"

"Your help with what."

You'd thought it was sort of self-explanatory. "The Wind Court thing? Madrigal? Leveraging my razor-sharp powers of persuasion to, uh, win the hearts and minds of—"

"Your powers of persuasion." Monty twitches an eyebrow up at that. "I'm glad you intend to spread the wealth."

Again! The smarmy cryptic statements! Why can nobody say what they mean around here? "Um, I'm not giving them any money, so— I didn't mean bribing them. If that's what you meant. I just meant talking, you know, using my winsome charm, and—"

"Yes. Your winsome charm. Will Mr. Blaine be telling you his complete life history as well?"

You gesture vehemently. "Who is Mr. Blaine?"

"...Duncan Blaine? Duncan— I suppose he goes by Lucky? Or so I hear. I wouldn't presume."

Oh. Lucky. Why wouldn't he just say that? And how does that make sense? You're not going to the Wind Court to ask Lucky about his life, you don't care about his life—

«Charlotte.»
«Why don't you explain to this man that he should converse with you like you are a child. He should speak directly and use simple words.»

Great, and now Richard's joining in. (Even though he isn't... wrong. Not because you're stupid, obviously, but because Monty needs to know his place.) "You said we should be candid," you snap. "Is this candid? Are we speaking plainly? Or are we being stupid and vague and smug, Monty? Because if this is your idea of candid, I may as well—"

"...I apologize." He tugs at his collar. "It may be force of habit. To be candid, Charlotte, I am aware of the stunt you pulled the other night. Your 'winsome charm.' I think it was cruel of you, but at least it was straightforward. You extracted what you wanted, you twisted the knife—"

You don't appreciate the sardonic 'winsome charm,' nor the baseless accusations. He's saying you did something the other night? What? You had a drink, he blabbed about his boring life, Richard gave you a stroke— oh, it's probably Richard's fault.

«It is not my fault. This man is too attentive for his own good.»

Okay, then it's Monty's fault. You're fine with that. "I didn't, but sure."

"I'm glad we're being candid, Charlotte. I am also aware that you did something similar today." He looks sideways. "In hindsight, there was no reason for me to ask your help. I didn't want it. I didn't want to interact with you. I didn't bring you up to Eloise. Then, oddly enough, I did want it, and I had brought it up."

You sit on your hands. "Maybe you'd wanted my help all along, in your heart, and my presence just blossomed your—"

(1/5?)

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