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Brisa's whiskers twitched. "Y'reckon the lot of us ought t'get checked out? To a 'mon?" 'Specially you.

"I'll do what I can to make sure it happens," growled Brisa. "It's pretty fuckin' important if'n ya ask me." Diyem thinks y'should be in therapy. Owen thinks it. Doubtless other folks too. You're here. You're here. "While I'm here..." Y'ain't right. Y'need help. "Ah, is there anythin' at all...

"No kiddin'," said Brisa. "Right, is there any reason we can't have the whole of Team Spectrum, God Squad, an' any significant members of Poppin' Arms through this process in an orderly fashion?" She found herself running her paw over her skull. Now that was an old habit she hadn't expected to...

A mon's memories are their own. What happened to me, what I've experienced . . . it belongs to me. Brisa fixed her gaze on Bean, studying his form, reading his expression. She'd accepted just by coming here that the Psychics would look inside her head. Did he know why that mattered? Did Fugu...

Good. Brisa got what she hoped for. What a relief. "Get it over with," she growled.

"At least we have that lucky precedent to go off if ever anyone is framed again," mused Brisa. "But it's sore worryin' to think it could happen to anyone. If we can't unblock the seals, an' folks act and think the same as they always have when they're compromised, all we can hope to do is check...

"Well that ain't encouragin' to hear, but it's better'n not knowin'. Is there anythin' we can do to retrieve those memories? As fer S'more, I'm frankly inclined to treat the poor fella as himself, whatever the state of his soul. Question is if we can protect him from bein' used any further."

"Yer thinkin' what I'm thinkin', right? Don't answer that. Ah, sure sounds like that's somethin' that'd happen if'n he were the fella who was bumped off an' replaced. Spund plausible t'you experts?"

Brisa skewed her mouth. "Y'did the right thing by not unilaterally disclosin' anythin'. And again by cooperatin' with the investigation." She rubbed her muzzle with a paw. "Y'mentioned Owen. (Ah, Tamato. We can use Cibusean names.) I recall now that he was sent down first an' got knocked out...

Brisa listened carefully to Bean, taking silent notes all the while, until his colleague arrived. "Xatu Wheat, well met. How d'you do?" Try as she might, Brisa couldn't help but expect Psychic activity from the bird. Constantly anticipating it was going to drive her nuts. Thunder. "And y'can...

"Aw hell, y'can do that here? I might just have t'do the same." Jesse produced a bottle labelled with a marowak skull, and started drinking as he continued his stenography. "Sure was a fuckin' claim, I'd say! If the critter later depends on the notion that they got some power that's useful...

"I guess that's a matter of priority," said Brisa, rubbing her chin. "The most important are those with substantial memory blocks and/or a clear link to the calamities we've been facin'. Namely: S'more, fer bein' confirmed as an unwittin' agent of Giovanni but not rememberin' how he went about...

"I'm fine around Psychics," said Brisa, noting with displesaure that she couldn't keep an edge out of her voice. "I'll be fine in the company of yer colleagues. It's bein' subjected to telepathy involuntarily that sticks in my craw. Been workin' on the voluntary telepathy thing with my shade...

"Ah, how d'you do?" asked Brisa. "An' I should say, 'Brisket' is just fine if'n it's easier fer y'all." She had seen Bean. Never any especially substantial conversation, but he'd always been pleasant enough. Brisa took a small berry with a "Thank you kindly, ma'am," and approached Bean. "You...

Folks' thoughts ought to stay their own, unless they confided them willingly to someone they trusted. The idea of compelling people who professionally took on the private thoughts of others, in confidence, to give up those thoughts... Brisa shivered, repeatedly, her discmfort working out of her...

"Gods," muttered Jesse, "this shit goes a mile a minute, don't it?" He started amending his boards. "I'm gonna make a compromise an' keep this shit concise. Can't afford to take everythin' down in that level of detail th'rest of the game..." "Okay, lessee... I jumped the wand a bit about...

Jesse kept grinning. "And did it work?"

Jesse scowled. In his fist, the stick of chalk snapped into pieces. "So if I make an error, perhaps you oughta correct me, like I fuckin' asked. Stenography is an asset to anyone, same as any information. Issue with a game like this is asymmetry of information. Mafia already know exactly what...

[[Can't edit my last post, realised I'd forgotten to fix this after writing everything else.]] Jesse's Character Tracker Alexander | Hydreigon | he/him | Namohysip Nobody Altair | Yamask | he/him | Inkedust Nobody Arctozolt | they/them plural | IFBench Nobody Chappie | Luxio | she/her |...

[[So, pretty fun start to the game, huh? I got to read a shitton of posts speculating about Jesse-as-Arsonist first thing in the morning, because I fell asleep ten minutes before Day One, i.e. 1 am UK time. Naturally, Jesse and I cannot respond live while I'm asleep. This is reflected in the...