Chapter 7
"Knock knock. I brought donuts!" I stepped into the sheriff's office, Joan groaning immediately in my wake. "Okay, I lied about the donuts. This town seriously needs to get a Dunkin."
"How long were you sitting on that? Were you seriously just planning to say that the entire way here?"
"A magician never reveals his secrets." My proud grin had no effect on my partner. That wasn't true, it had an effect, but it was a negative one.
"That makes absolutely no sense. You are an idiot."
Our adorable back and forth was cut short by the sound of an argument resonating from a room deeper in the office. A quick scan determined that Sheriff Placeholder was not in the main room, which likely meant he was at least involved in the aforementioned argument as either a target or participant. The voices were muffled by the thick walls of the sheriff's office, but it sounded like the main participant was male. After a few seconds, the argument came to an end, or at least mostly.
The door to the source of the argument opened, and Riff walked through as if everything was business as usual. As the door closed behind him, a male voice said, "You can't just keep me in here. I have rights!"
Riff and his glorious mustache looked up. The corners of his mustache raised to greet me like a puppy that was glad to have its master return home. I responded by immediately rushing over and petting it.
"Seems yinz are in good spirits this mornin'." Riff chuckles, not at all disturbed by my greeting.
"What was that all about?" Too used to my antics to allow herself to be swept up in the moment, Joan posed the question we were both wondering.
"That?" Riff's chuckle turned into a hearty belly laugh. "Yinz can say it's all part o' the job. Jus' yer regular bum in the drunk tank."
"Even with the curfew?" With Joan leading the conversation, it gave me more one-on-one time with that glorious mustache. "Clay, if you don't stop that I'm going to do something that will put me in the cell next to the drunk."
I might not be the best at interpreting intent behind a person's words regarding social expectations, but Joan left nothing to chance with her threat. I sadly turned away, pouting as I explored the office. The room itself was mostly gray. Concrete floor, cheap metal desk and filing cabinets, metal doors... While it appeared like a cold, sterile law enforcement office, it also seemed out of touch with the themes of the rest of the world. It was hard to say if it was intentionally out of place, or if the lazy GM just selected a random generic police office template when creating the space.
"Found 'im stumblin' 'round after curfew. He was worse fer wear than his lady friend. But had to bring 'em both in."
"So there are two back there?" She tilted her head toward the door, as if the tilt would somehow let her see through the metal door and concrete walls.
"Surprised there weren't more. I'm impressed with yinz. Seemed whatever yinz said to Mayer Night got 'im to lay off a bit."
Riff's accent still bothered me. For one, I wasn't really sure if his use of yinz was even how it was supposed to be used. Trying to think back to conversations with all of my Pittsburg friends, I realized that I had none. The reminder of my shortage of friends caused my mind to wander to more depressing channels as Joan and Sheriff Placeholder continued their conversation.
"Were there any new missing people reported last night?"
"It's still early in the mornin', but jus' un of 'em so far."
My eyes wandered over Riff's desk, noticing a coffee mug that read World's Third Best Grandma. Instantly, the investigation to find who was World's Second Best Grandma was added to my list of priorities. I also wondered where everyone got these mugs, and if there was a World's Fourth Best Grandma mug hidden somewhere in the town.
One of us was focused on our goal, it definitely was not me.
"One?" Joan raised an eyebrow. "Do you know where they were last seen?"
"The folks at Generic Tavern D said he was there 'til right before sundown. Prob'ly din't git home in time." Riff's shoulders sagged. I wondered if the missing person was someone he knew personally.
"The tavern?!" Joan quickly turned to me, which caused me to realize the connection she had made.
"Hey Riff, strange question. Did you happen to find a pile of skin and clothes near the tavern?" If it wasn't just a dream, the nightmarish discovery in the alley last night should have still been there. After all, Joan didn't remember seeing it which meant neither of us would have moved it.
Riff's shocked response was not surprising based on the strangeness of my question, "Well, I take it yer not jus' askin' fer no reason? I searched the whole area first thing this mornin' and din't find nothin'. 'specially not a pile of skin an' clothes."
"You're still going on about that? Are you sure it wasn't something you hallucinated after getting knocked out?" Her response was less of an insult, and more of an attempt to gauge my certainty.
"Hold yer horses fer a second." Riff immediately cut in, showing just a more than just a little exasperation, "What am I missin' here? What happened to yinz?"
"Clay and I saw something in the alley next to the tavern. It was trying to run away. We tried to stop it, but we got overpowered. I ended up having to carry Clay back to the inn after it was all said and done."
"I have more questions, but that din't explain the talk 'bout piles of skin." His exasperation was only growing the more he heard.
"At one point, I was on the ground next to those trash bins near the main street. When I went to stand up, my hand found what definitely seemed like a pile of skin with clothes on it. I mean it was dark, but I don't really know what else it would be."
"I really want to believe you, Clay. Especially because it might help the investigation, but you were in really bad shape. I didn't see anything like you are describing. Couldn't it confuse the investigation if we consider evidence that turns out to be nothing more than a concussion induced nightmare?"
I desperately wanted to push back, but Joan had a point. If I was wrong and we started assuming some weird skin pile was at the potential scene of the disappearance and that it disappeared before anyone else could find it, the entire investigation could be derailed. If only there was some sort of evidence that it wasn't just a nightmare. Defeated, I resigned to the reality that I needed more to go on than an unreliable recollection.
"Did yinz git a good look at the feller that 'ttacked ye?" Riff's interjection helped save me from my embarrassment over trying to bring up the skin pile as actual evidence. It also very quickly reminded both Joan and I that we completely ignored the elephant in the room when telling our accounts of the previous night.
"Before I say anything, I have something I'd like to ask about the residents here in Marblehead." Before I could drop the bombshell of the Deep One on Riff, Joan stepped in with her own cryptic response.
The raised eyebrow paired with one side of his majestic upper-lip-warmer lifting showed intrigued confusion from Riff, "Answerin' my question with a question. It's not jus' yer boyf... Partner here who knows 'is way 'round a 'terrogation. Well Missy, go 'head an' ask away."
Joan's left eye twitched at Sheriff Placeholder's near slip-up paired with being called missy. Taking a deep breath, she kept her calm. There wasn't even a flicker of a red outline around her, I must admit I was impressed with her restraint compared to yesterday.
"Where we come from, we don't have a lot of the different races that you guys have here. We have humans, and that's it for intelligent creatures. But I've seen more than a few different races roaming around town. Not getting into any possible discrimination there might be in the world, it at least looks like the different races are a similar status to humans." Joan tiptoed into her question, making sure to make it clear why we would not be experts on the status of non-human races. "I haven't seen any around town, but do you know of any residents that are a type of fish person?"
Riff's reaction reflected that if fish-type humanoids existed in this world, they were not common place in this town. In fact, the shock and fear overshadowed even his spectacularly groomed lip adornment.
"Deep Ones? In Marblehead?" Riff's tone seemed as if he was being forced to speak blasphemy. His accent had also completely disappeared. "What could bring you to say such a twisted thing? Don't tell me..."
"So you call them Deep Ones as well. And from your reaction, I take it they are not a welcome race within Marblehead?"
"Of course not! If I catch un of 'em water-breathers in 'ere they'll get a taste of 'ole Betty White." He patted the revolver holstered on his hip.
"Betty White?! You know about Betty White?!" Obviously it was me leaping into the conversation, clinging to the most interesting bit of information we'd received so far.
"Who doesn't know of 'er. She's a great hero of legend, damn near immortal. Ain't a little un who ain't told 'er stories growin' up. Little uns still play Betty White and Star Vampires on playgrounds. It's silly of me, but I named my shooter after 'er, it give's me strength."
"I have so many questions. The Betty White from our world has the same legendary status, possibly even higher than yours."
"Ye don't say. Is yer's an eight foot tall Amazon goddess?"
"Pretty close. She at least gave off those vibes."
The sound of Joan clearing her throat brought Riff and I back to our previous boring conversation.
"So it's clear they aren't welcome here. But do they live nearby?"
"Betty White? You think she lives nearby?"
A familiar red highlight was the non-spoken version of focus. My shoulders drooped like a mustache in the rain.
"Deep Ones. Do you know of any settlements they have nearby?"
Riff scratched his head as he struggled to keep up with the conversation. He was justifiably still hung up on discussing the Betty Whites of our worlds, so getting dragged back into a conversation about Deep Ones was less than ideal. "If there were word of water-breathers nearby, I'd have dealt with em personally. Are ye saying ye think there is one?"
"I can't say there's evidence of a settlement, but we did run into a Deep One last night. That's what we confronted in the alley before Clay got beat up and I had to drag him home."
"Couldn't you have just left that last part out of your description. I have some pride after all."
"Do you?"
"I could have some pride. You make it hard for me."
"Fer Betty White's sake! Quit yer yappin' and get back to what yer lass was sayin'." The man attached to the mustache showed as much aggression as we'd seen so far by a wide margin. "A water-breather was 'ere in my town?!"
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Joan was so surprised by the sudden outburst from the normally mild-mannered sheriff that she didn't even react to being called a lass.
"It was fleeing down an alley, right next to the tavern. Right near where you said last night's disappearance likely occurred. I doubt it's a coincidence."
"Yinz are lucky ye walked away... Well, one of ye walked, the other got carried by the pretty un." Riff's response did well at rubbing both Joan and I the wrong way for different reasons. "Even more reason t' have the curfews keep goin'."
"So our best suspect is the Deep One. It makes sense they could easily carry a body or two out of town. That would explain why no trace was left behind. Maybe that means the victims are still alive and just held captive." Joan met my eyes with a look of hope.
"Them savages ain't the type fer hostages. If we're dealin' with water-breathers, then the missin' are as good as fish food, if not worse." Riff furrowed his mustache as he stamped any hope to dust.
"Or worse..." The words slipped from my lips. Then these creatures were nothing but monsters, incapable of civilized thought.
Wait. Was that true?
If they are really as monstrous as Riff implied, then... That part doesn't make sense.
"Riff, have you ever come across a Deep One that could talk?" Although it might have been just a hallucination, I couldn't shake how real the creature's words had been. Self defense. I didn't understand the context, but I had heard the creature repeat the phrase multiple times.
"Are ye' off yer rocker? A water-breathin' savage that kin talk?!" Riff's exasperation was only outdone by his condescension.
"I heard it speak. But that isn't something they are supposed to do?" The likelihood that most of my memories from the battle with the Deep One weren't real grew with every new piece of information.
"How 'bout you missy? Did ye hear it too? Or was it jus' yer friend?"
"It was just him. I don't remember anything like that." Joan replied firmly, however I could hear the pity in her voice. Honestly, the pity made it hurt even worse. "It's not that I don't believe he thinks he heard it. I just... Clay, I'm sorry. You hit your head pretty hard, it's normal to get confused."
I wanted to be anywhere other than in this current conversation. Why did I even put myself out there to ask such a stupid question. Of course I'd just look like an idiot. This always happened. I couldn't even be mad at Joan, because she sincerely felt bad for me. Even my self conscious mind could tell that she was trying to be nice and wasn't just bullying me. Actually, the mere fact that she hadn't used this as an opportunity to tease me showed just how much my credibility had taken a hit. Maybe it would be better if I just let her take care of things. I would just get in her way or try to throw in my insane conspiracy ideas into the mix.
Distancing myself from the conversation, I tried to look busy. I glanced over the documents on Riff's desk. Pinned under his grandma mug I could see the papers we'd requested. The current list of missing names, the date they went missing, their last known whereabouts, and their address. The longer I was in this horrible place, the less I saw these NPCs as mere plot devices. The names on this list had families, they had lives. Even if it was just something like artificial intelligence, my chest tensed up at the thought. If my actions were only causing more names to get added to this list while the case went unsolved, then it wasn't a stretch to think that I was responsible for any names added to this list being taken from their families. I really was the worst.
The conversation had continued, but my mind was elsewhere. I wasn't even lost in my wonderful world of tangents. I would have killed for tangents to distract me from my growing guilt and shame. Without thinking, I found my hand gripping the knob of the door to the room Riff had been in when we first arrived. I needed to be kept away, somewhere that I couldn't hurt the investigation any further. I turned the knob, pulling the door open.
"About fuckin' time! Goddamn pig! If I wasn't in this cell I'd kill you!" The brazen voice from inside the room not only brought me back to my senses, but pulled Joan and Riff from their conversation. They quickly realized what I had been doing.
"What do ye think yer doin'? Ye might be helpin' investigate, but that don't mean ye kin jus' make yerself at home." Riff rushed across the room as I stood in the open doorway. I felt even more foolish. Was my growing self hatred because I didn't have my meds? Wasn't this too soon for something like that to make a difference?
"Woah! Bro, you're one of the passengers, aren't you?! You gotta get us out of here! We're innocent!"
The words the prisoner said caused my head to turn to look through the open door. Passengers. Could they be?...
Inside the room were a row of cells. The cells were nothing more than bars extending from the floor to the ceiling with doors. Inside each cell was the bare minimum of mattresses on bed frames, and a toilet. Aside from the actual cells, it was the occupants that drew my attention.
To say the two occupants stood out would be an understatement. At the front of the cell gripping and violently shaking the bars stood what I could best describe as Hot Topic employee concentrate. Every employee I'd ever seen at Hot Topic was just a watered down version of this guy. He stood slightly taller than myself, however his impressive fuchsia mohawk added at least six inches to his stature. His mohawk itself wasn't one of those half-hearted fauxhawks, he fully committed to his hairstyle by shaving the sides of his head leaving only the row of fuchsia spikes in the middle. His slim fit black clothes framed his skinny but athletic build. His clothes were exactly the style that Hot Topic attempted to replicate on their shelves. Nearly every inch of his exposed skin was covered in tattoos, which created a chaotic canvass where generic tattoos like barbed wire, impressive dragon tattoos, and what looked like a Care Bear all made his skin their home. His ears and face were covered in piercings, massive gauges in each of his ear lobes were icing on the cake to his punk aesthetic. His entire appearance came together with the chaotic look in his eyes, which immediately caused chills to shoot up my spine.
Sitting at the back of the cell, staring at the floor was a petite woman. Her style fit in well with the male occupant of the cell, however her demeanor was very different. Yes, she had a green pixie cut, piercings, tattoos, some sort of punk style makeup, and the clothes to match, but her captivating green eyes looked as if she were miles away. It was almost like she was in an incredibly elaborate Halloween costume, something like sexy punk rocker chick, the sort of blatant fetish based costumes that you see at every college costume party. Short red and black plaid pleated skirt, fishnet tights, black studded tank top, and some sort of platform heel boots with spikes and buckles... Unlike her male counterpart who seemed to mirror his aesthetic, she almost appeared like a prisoner in her own fashion sense, trapped as much by her appearance as she was by the cell she occupied.
The woman's eyes lifted from her million mile stare to meet mine. Lifetimes of conversations passed between us in a single moment. I knew her. Her makeup did well to cover the reality, but I knew her look well. We were the same. I'd never met her before this moment, but I knew her. Wait, it wasn't just the intense connection from our eyes meeting through the bars of the cell, she actually looked really familiar.
"Riff, these are players." My eyes reluctantly left the woman's gaze as I turned to the sheriff who was trying to pry me out of the doorway. "Don't you have orders to assist players?"
A look of reluctant resignation painted Riff's mustache decorated face. "Players you say?"
"He's right. They are passengers of the ship." Joan chimed in, standing in the doorway behind Riff.
"Don't just stand there gawking! Get us out of here!" The man violently shook the bars, his eyes showed unhinged rage, yet his lack of a red highlight told me his display was just a performance. Read the Room had shown itself incredibly helpful in determining the hostile intentions of others. In this case, there was no way this man's demeanor would have failed to triggered the ability unless he was all bark and no bite.
"Do you have any real reason to keep them locked up? I know you said they were drunk, so if that's all you have there shouldn't be a reason to keep them. Right?" I pleaded to Riff. My eyes met Joan, who appeared to not be as confident in my assertion to just release them. She didn't know what I knew, that the man's actions were not actual hostility aimed to hurt us. If she had known, I was sure she'd agree whole-heartedly. At the very least, it didn't seem like she had a good reason to object to my insistence.
"Er... Yeah. Sure. Yinz jus' hold on fer a tidbit. I have'ta git the keys. Jus' hold yer britches." As if he didn't have any other choice, Riff disappeared back into the main room of his office to retrieve his keys.
"I'm Clay and this is Joan. We were starting to wonder if there were any other passengers here."
The woman's eyes darken and return to the floor as she wrapped her arms around her chest to minimize her shaking. Clearly the memory of the last moments on the ship or events since coming to this world were flashing in front of her eyes.
The man gripping the bars smiled, his wild eyes reflected something like glee. "I'm Raif. That depressing lump in the corner is my girl Tara. You'll have to forgive her, she's too weak for all of this."
Immediately I could tell that whether or not he was overtly hostile, I did not like Raif. I didn't know the history between the two, and I had no idea the things they had witnessed in the past couple of days, but his dismissal of Tara rubbed me the wrong way.
"I'm sure you guys have seen some crazy things. It's one thing to be a fan of this kind of stuff in fiction, but to have to live it... We've seen our fair share of things so far too." I did my best to comfort Tara while not testing Raif any more than necessary.
"Yeah yeah. Crazy ass shit, right?! What's all this crap about some sort of game anyway? It's all nerd stuff. I wouldn't be caught dead playing games like losers. Tara used to play them, but she grew out of that real quick because she's not a lame ass bitch."
"It'd probably be good if you at least went along with things, even if you look down on them. We've both had to rely on things to survive so far. Tara, you used to play table top games? Would it be safe to guess it was Call of Cthulhu?" I really really didn't like Raif. His vileness made my skin crawl.
"Who gives a shit what she played? You think we're just going to sit around and act like nerds? I'm not going to wear a damned wizard hat and talk about fairies. What do I look like, some virgin loser?" Every word that came out of his mouth was like he was spitting acid at us.
"It's not like that. We..."
"I'm the Playwright," Joan cut me off, ripping control of the conversation from me. I was grateful. "Clay is the Insurance Adjuster."
I tensed up at Joan's lie, but I agree with her keeping my odd status a secret. We didn't know these people yet, and at the very least, Raif was far from trustworthy. Exposing my secret would just risk putting Joan and I in a bad spot. Well, mostly me, but I was sure Joan wouldn't come out unscathed if my irregularity was put on display. Even more so, because we were far from understanding anything surrounding my existence in this game.
"I'm the Musician. Raif is the Delinquent." Tara offered, barely over a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Why would you tell them that? Don't just put my business out there without my permission." Raif turned to glare at Tara.
"Musician? From what I've seen the occupations are related to who we were before we came here. So you did music?"
"Are you calling me a delinquent?!" Raif snapped at me, completely ignoring that I wasn't addressing him and made no mention of his occupation name.
"Yeah. Before here, I..." Tara started to quietly reply, but she was quickly cut off by Raif.
"You know that hack chick punk band The Frothy Wandas?" Raif sneered, his wild eyes meeting mine.
"I've heard of them. I mean, I can't say I'm a fan. The only reason to listen to them is their bassist is out of this world. Weaving funk and jazz into punk songs is inspirational. I just wish every other element wasn't so average." My inability to put context to Raif's question meant my honest response left my lips before I realized just why Raif had brought up the band. Suddenly it clicked why Tara looked so familiar. I recognized her from the album cover. She was part of the band I just harshly critiqued.
Raif responded with a laugh that could barely qualify as anything other than unsettling. "You hear that Tara? I guess there's one idiot out there that gives a damn about your pretentious crap. Hey Clay, don't let her get full of herself. And watch it, she's mine."
I honestly didn't understand what was happening. I thought I'd insulted her band, so why was Raif acting like I was flirting with her?
"You really liked my bass lines?" Her green eyes raised to meet mine. I recognized that look. I knew that look too well.
"It's the only reason I didn't flip past it when it popped up on a playlist. I'm sorry I insulted anything else you did with the band, but I wasn't lying about the bass. But don't take me too seriously, my musical talents are limited to the kazoo." Rambling, I wasn't sure how to continue without digging myself deeper.
"Bro, just quit it. I'm starting to get mad." His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the cell's bars. There still was no sign of a red highlight, but it might not be good to keep going. I didn't think I was crossing any lines, but I was also the last person to understand how my social interactions affected others. Outside of interviews where all I was trying to do was uncover lies and facts, my perception of social cues was woefully insufficient, especially if it regarded social cues directed at myself. It was almost as if I was hyper perceptive of people's intentions regarding everyone except for myself. I was my own blind spot. And something I had said had triggered aggression from the tough punk asserting his dominance from the other side of the prison bars.
Had I not caught the faintest smile on Tara's face, I would have been convinced I had thoroughly offended her. I knew that look. Her look was one I understood.
"What are you planning on doing after you get released?" Joan stepped into the conversation, once again proving her superiority at reading a room.
"Are you hoping I stick around so you don't have to deal with this nerd anymore? I don't blame you babe. You are way out of his league, why did you ever hook up with him? What are you, anyway? Dating, married? Tara and I are in an open relationship. She lets me sleep around as long as she's faithful, you know?" Vile. I hate him.
"I was actually hoping you would go off and do your own thing. We don't need any more distractions, and you obviously don't have very much respect for Clay. So I'm sure you'd be happier being anywhere else. Right?" I could see her pen gripped in her hand. Read the Room hadn't activated, but I was certain it must have not triggered because Raif did not qualify as a party member and definitely wasn't a quest specific NPC. Did I miss something? Every other time someone assumed her and I are a couple, she jumped at the chance to correct them, but this time she ignored it entirely. Perhaps she was keeping our situation confidential, like with my actual occupation +h4 /\/u11. If we admitted we weren't a couple on the couples cruise, it might draw more unwanted scrutiny. Maybe she had just wanted us to blend in as much as possible, even if it meant swallowing her pride.
Even if that was the case, I was grateful for Joan.
I couldn't claim that I understood her, or even that I knew anything about her. I respected her privacy since she clearly wasn't ready to share much about herself. But even so, if I had to be paired up with anyone, I was glad I was paired with her.
"Woah there babe, you're making me out to be the bad guy here. Of course I'd have issues with your boyfriend, you should too, he was practically undressing my girl with his eyes. And his disgusting flirting... He needs to know his place. That's all. That has nothing to do with you and I. You can't look me in the eye and say you'd rather have him than me."
"I thought you said you had an open relationship. You're awfully jealous for a guy making claims like that. If I didn't know any better, you'd just look like a dirty cheating scumbag. For what it's worth, I wouldn't choose you over Clay in a million years. I chose him, and our bond is more important than anything you're trying to imply. Even if Clay was making eyes at Tara, which he wasn't, that doesn't make him any less mine."
My heart raced, even though she was putting up a front, it still felt nice to have someone fight for me like this. They didn't need to know that there was no romantic connection between Joan and I, it was better if they thought otherwise.
"Don't get full of yourself. I was just trying to be polite and offer you a chance to ditch that loser. If you aren't smart enough to figure that out then maybe you belong together. And Tara only wants me, so it's only common sense that I'd keep her safe from little pervs like your loser boyfriend."
"Oh yeah? You think Tara wants to be with you? Anyone with eyes can see..." Joan prepared to bury the knife, humiliating Raif. Except I knew it wouldn't humiliate someone like him. He wouldn't be the one who suffered most from her words. I gripped her wrist and cut her off.
"We're not getting anywhere. Why don't we just head out? I was planning to wait until Riff got back with the keys, but we're losing daylight." My eyes met Tara's. She quickly shifted her eyes to the floor. "I'm sure we'll see you guys around. Please check out your abilities, it might be the difference between life and death."
I expected some venomous attack from Raif, but he seemed at a loss for words.
Not wanting to push my luck, I turned and exited the room.
Riff sat at his desk. With keys in hand, he shook his head at me. "I had the keys the whole time. Though fer yer sake ye' should see why I kept 'im locked up. Are yinz sure ye' want 'im released?"
That was when I realized Riff had been trying to do me a favor. Not Joan and I, but me specifically.
The list of missing people sat in front of him on the desk. My heart ached. At that moment I had no doubt that these NPCs were more than just mindless drones, they had more empathy than some of the humans brought into this world. I felt foolish for wallowing in my own self-pity. If there was something I could do to stop the disappearances, if I could even save just one, I would do whatever it took.
I suddenly understood something that should have been obvious.
I summoned my journal and put pen to paper. I needed to keep this as a reminder. In case my determination ever faltered, I needed to keep this where I could always see it.
This is not a game to the people of this world.
This is not a game to us.
This is only a game to that god.
I will end this game.
I will kill him.
Goddamnit, I will find that god and I will kill him.
I closed my journal and returned it to my inventory. At some point, Joan had caught back up to me. Had she stayed behind when I left? I don't remember her walking beside me. It didn't matter, I trusted that if she added anything to the conversation, it would be something necessary.
"Riff, don't keep them locked up. I appreciate your concern, but I don't care enough about the man in that cell to tell you to keep him locked up."
But Tara... I sighed realizing I would likely regret my decision.
"Joan, I'd like to ask a favor. It's a big one."
She stiffened, unsure of what I was about to ask.
"I'd like you to let Tara and Raif join us."
What camp are you in?
