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The lesson goes on for some time, and you have to ask Sissy to explain a few things more than once. By the time that he has moved on to more practical information, it's already afternoon. He gives you the addresses of Lost safehouses scattered throughout Cornwall, as well as a battered phone that was outdated even before the Crone took you. You're told the easiest places in town to shoplift and a few charity shops where you might be able to grab a couple of free handouts. Once that's out of the way, Sissy excuses himself to make a few calls, to organise that meeting of his.
You're left to your own devices for the rest of the afternoon, but there's not much to do other than flick through tedious daytime television while you wait. Every now and then, a member of Sissy's motley wanders through. There's a sickly-looking runt with a mouth full of dagger-like fangs, a hunchbacked woman around Sissy's age with frog-like features and some poor bloke who seems to literally be made out of tar. None of them stick around long enough for you to share more than a handful of words with them. There's also Mabel, but she pointedly ignores you whenever she walks by.
Eventually, Sissy returns to bring you to the Shipwright. The two of you get into your battered old Honda and begin the drive through town to the pub. At this time of day, Trebelwith is a bit busier. Workmen are hustling home, parents are collecting their children and retirees are taking one last gander at the shops. You try to prod Sissy for tips on how to carry yourself during this meeting, but he laughs you off. “Just be yourself,” he says. “No need to fret, boy.”
You were right, the Shipwright is a pub – one that takes full advantage of its name. All sorts of old-fashioned nautical equipment has been bolted to the walls to give the place a bit of rustic charm. Though the evening has just begun, there's dozens of people already milling around and the air's filled with their hubbub. With surprising ease, Sissy navigates his way through the crowd and gives a nod to a man behind the bar – an ordinary human, at first glance. He returns the gesture and with that, your guide leads you through a door into the backroom.
There's four other Lost waiting there, sat around a tacky conference table that couldn't seem more out of place. They're certainly an eclectic-looking bunch – a cold and imperious elf of the male variety, some upper-class woman covered in writing, a burly bloke with lion-like features and a squat fellow with gangly, stick-like limbs. And now, they're all looking at you.
How do you introduce yourself?
>Duchy makes you think of nobility. Try and be courteous – a bow should be appropriate.
>The atmosphere's a little chilly, you should warm it. Try and crack a joke to break the ice.
>Keep it simple, stupid. Give them a plain greeting and your name, no need to be fancy.
>No need to say anything at all. Keep your mouth shut and let Sissy do the talking for now.