[Since I'm such a big fan of these types of posts (and honestly I need these things to happen in game), let's look in on our favourite Mister Sinclair while he goes through his day
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[*mutter* *curse* *cigarette* VIDEO//PRIVATE]echo_of_utopiaAugust 17 2010, 21:56:33 UTC
[ She frowns because a.) what the hell, recording device? and b.) BHAMBA?! To imagine Sinclair unable to persuade anybody, let a lone a lunatic with a crocodile, is... well... but then again- ]
Difficult without money, isn't it?
[ Her tone is surprisingly matter-of-fact and lacking traces of gloating. At his curiosity she merely raises an eyebrow. ]
[hahaha omnomnom VIDEO//PRIVATE]worldentireAugust 17 2010, 22:10:38 UTC
[He gives a little amused snort.]
No. You seem t'think that's all I need.
[A long pause.]
He isn't the type t'take a bribe, anyways. I'm just goin' t'have t'find a different approach. [Because there are so many different ways, oh yes.] Just need somethin'...
[*EATS EVERRRYYYYTHIIIING* VIDEO//PRIVATE]worldentireAugust 19 2010, 15:52:12 UTC
[*asswiggle* What's that?]
See, I knew he had the "weapon" [no, he didn't airquote, he's from the fifties, sheesh] with him, and I wanted t'get a hold of that. 'Course, he decided t'reveal t'me that he had those recordin's. Wouldn't doubt that he recorded our conversation, too.
[*swallows cigarette* *gags*]echo_of_utopiaAugust 19 2010, 23:41:56 UTC
[ Oohhhh, Mister Sincl--
The "weapon"? The syringe. Her mind was already down the drain when he left it next to her and, returning to a room without evidence, she had assumed Sinclair'd taken it with him and/or disposed of it.
She must have been wrong. She can't quite hide being surprised at his carelessness. ]
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[Raising an eyebrow, he continues paging through whatever he's paging through, tapping the keys insistently.]
Everythin's gone just like you said it would. Can't say this isn't surprisin', but I appreciate it.
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[SUDDENLY PRIVATE // UNHACKABLE !]
Delta seems to have taken an interest in my death... or rather your involvement in it.
I attempted to dissuade him from his investigation, but I fear I may not have been particularly successful.
I thought you ought to know.
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... Seems Bhamba's got some goddamn recordin' device with more than obvious evidence on it, but I can't seem t'persuade him t'part with it.
[quietly] I'm almost curious t'see what would come of it. Almost.
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Difficult without money, isn't it?
[ Her tone is surprisingly matter-of-fact and lacking traces of gloating. At his curiosity she merely raises an eyebrow. ]
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No. You seem t'think that's all I need.
[A long pause.]
He isn't the type t'take a bribe, anyways. I'm just goin' t'have t'find a different approach. [Because there are so many different ways, oh yes.] Just need somethin'...
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That is not exactly what I meant.
[ Except that it totally is, because with money Bhamba would be out of your hair faster than you can say tool. ]
If he did not contact you regarding an exchange and has not published the material either, how can you even be sure he holds evidence against you?
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See, I knew he had the "weapon" [no, he didn't airquote, he's from the fifties, sheesh] with him, and I wanted t'get a hold of that. 'Course, he decided t'reveal t'me that he had those recordin's. Wouldn't doubt that he recorded our conversation, too.
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The "weapon"? The syringe. Her mind was already down the drain when he left it next to her and, returning to a room without evidence, she had assumed Sinclair'd taken it with him and/or disposed of it.
She must have been wrong. She can't quite hide being surprised at his carelessness. ]
I trust you will be able to handle the situation?
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[ A nod and off goes the feed. ]
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