>>5346666“You brought him as well.” There’s no inflection in his voice, more of a statement than anything else.
“You recognize him?” You ask the clerk.
“Yes, I recognize him.” The clerk remarks disinterestedly. “Same guy came in with a trenchcoat and thought his wings weren’t visible. Try binding them next time.” Those words are directed to Boleski.
“Now tell me your conditions.” If he weren’t a human, you’d think this was some pre-recorded spiel.
“We’ll tell those to the professional,” You return, emphasizing the <span class="mu-i">professional</span> part of those words.
“The Healer doesn’t see just <span class="mu-i">anyone.</span> I think we’ve been over this before.”
“I saved the Healer from Mararanzano’s men.” You refute, becoming cross with this persnickety desk clerk. “Shouldn’t I, the mutant who <span class="mu-i">saved</span> the Healer, get a little leeway here?”
A few seconds pass, the clerk seemingly in deep thought, before he finally says, “No,” and you feel the overwhelming urge to punt this guy straight through the roof.
<span class="mu-i">“Co za dupek.”</span> Boleski frowns, green gaze narrowing at the clerk.
It’s a Mexican standoff between you and Boleski and this overly-fastidious desk clerk– a desk clerk whose name you totally forgot– and, like a bowling ball through a glass window, the silence is completely broken with a frantic shout of, “Who the hell let <span class="mu-i">that guy</span> in?!”
“I heard arguing.” Valjean says. “There a problem getting in?” He asks you and Boleski.
“Pharos!” The clerk’s voice is vehement. “The Healer explicitly said she didn’t want to see you, or any of your ilk, in her facilities.”
“Who still uses the word ‘ilk’ these days?” Valjean questions, deliberately ignoring the main point of the clerk’s words. “Last time I checked, the Crux is long-gone. You living under a rock there, pal?”
Though he’s able to maintain that same, passive expression, the clerk’s face takes on a slight tinge of red.
>(3/4) 