Amélie LaLorna,

I'm an actress:

The nerve of some people. It's almost unbearable.

Some petit idiot pleurnichard I'd been seeing for a while, Piear something, asked for my hand in marriage. Me?!

Well, I declined of course, I'm not wasting my time with such nonsense.

I'm an actress, not a house wife.

"What do you think of it? I believe I've captured the very heart of my vision in the entrance alone, but- oh, well you tell me how I did," Cohen grinned at Steinman excitedly.

Steinman glanced at the artist before looking ahead at the entrance to his club. He'd set it up on High Street and the way to the entrance was marked by a long red carpet. Either side of the carpet were pillars and people were standing on the pillars moving in various ways. Extending their arms to the ceiling, stretching out their legs, all wearing those horrid rabbit masks and their feet were haloed by light shining upwards from the podiums they stood on. The entrance to the club had a giant rabbit mask framing the door, an Art Deco sign above it with a man standing behind the sign and doing similar movements to the ones on the podiums. He also was decorated in a rabbits mask and had light shining upwards, casting a long shadow on the wall behind him. The place was simply called 'Cohen' and the door was a steel door with a little sliding window to see who was outside.

Steinman thought it was over the top and completely bonkers. So yes, it was Cohen's 'vision' to a 'T', it fit the artist perfectly. He couldn't believe that Cohen thought it might not fit his vision.

"I think anyone will know this is yours," he replied, pointing at the sign. "Given that you named the club after yourself, but I needn't think you should've bothered. Everyone would know this is yours."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me," Steinman replied bluntly, glancing up at structure again. "No one will think it belongs to anyone else."

Cohen breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the man. He'd taken to wearing makeup recently, today it wasn't as heavy. Sometimes he would cover his entire face in white make up and wax his moustache, even paint extra eyelashes onto his face. Sometimes he even wore false ones. Today, however, it seemed he was going for a more natural look. If you could call scarlet lipstick, gaudy blue eyeshadow and drawing on his eyebrows a 'natural' look.

Cohen insisted that everyone he asked said he looked positively divine. Steinman believed that was because they were all too terrified to say anything else. Sander had become a little sporadic recently. More so than usual. He was also taking a lot more tonics and plasmids. Must of gotten over his fear of needles pretty quick.

"Well, this is simply the outside," Cohen hooked his arm through Steinman's and dragged the surgeon towards the entrance. "Wait until you see the inside."

"Sander I have patients."

"Oh don't try and pawn me off on that little lie," Sander fixed him with a look. "We both know you don't give two figs about your patients. You only want to play with your tools. I know you, my dear Steinman."

Steinman only blinked at him in response. He hand't meant to come with Cohen to his club, but the man had insisted and then pushed Steinman out of the Kashmir restaurant into a bathysphere. That was how he ended up here, he was still dressed in his best suit and tie. Cohen had undone his bow tie and let it hang around his neck the moment they left the restaurant. His coat hung off his shoulders, but he didn't have his silk scarf this time.

Cohen opened the door to his club and Steinman hissed at the bright light from inside. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes before removing it once he got used to the light.

The room was incredibly sterile. It was a white polished room, he was certain if you looked at the floor he'd be able to see his face reflected back at him. The ceiling had so many electric lights that it made the whole room glow. It looked like polished marble but he couldn't be sure. The only thing in the room was a desk and a man standing behind it. The only dark thing in the entire room due to the suit he was wearing.

"This is what you're showing me?" Steinman asked incredulously. "A white room?"

"Oh you bore," Cohen huffed, shaking his head. "No, no, no!" He almost sounded like he was on the verge of a tantrum. "This is simply a place for my audience to rid themselves of the phoney beliefs. To disregard what they are told is art and embrace what is truly art. My work, for example," he grinned and pulled Steinman along again.

Sander Cohen was acting very much like an excited child. Steinman wondered just how much ADAM he'd had, he himself was getting a little sporadic recently. Leaving operating rooms without scrubbing down properly. Many of the woman he was forced to deal with almost fainted at the sight of him covered in blood. He didn't know why they were so shocked, what did they think happened in surgery? The blood didn't just stop flowing.

Still, his nurse… Rosa? Yes, he was certain it was Rosa, had insisted that he be more careful. Something about his reputation or another. He'd stopped listening, he was fascinated by her round face. He was wondering how long it would take to just scrape away the muscle to reveal the cheek bones. Maybe polish up the bone itself? Certainly would be a fashion statement in his opinion, no one else like it. He couldn't voice his opinions yet, of course. The best he could do was experiment with pictures and create elaborate collages. They were so boring though.

His attention was brought back to the present as the wall he had been staring at disappeared to show a long dark passageway. He was dragged into that also.

"Sander, how is anyone supposed to see?"

"Hush now. Just you wait."

As if on cue, an outline of one of those rabbit masks lit up. It was as big as the corridor itself and then Steinman realised that the corridor itself was in the shape of those masks. He didn't find the appeal of them, but Sander had designed them. Maybe he could make a masquerade mask out of human skin? That sounded doable. He just needed to find a fresh body first.

Finally they reached the centre of the club, on the top floor which spiralled down to a round room with a platform in the centre of it. All the spotlights were directed on that spot, but when Steinman focussed on the centre he saw two harnesses hanging in the air. Following the wires that were attached to the harnesses up, he had to squint past the spotlights, but he could clearly see four outlines. Ah, Cohen's disciples were here also.

"Well…?" Cohen grinned, finally letting go of his arm and gesturing around him."What do you think?"

He thought he was completely insane.

"It looks wonderful," he replied, glancing at Cohen's feet as a rabbit hopped past them, quickly scampering off down stairs.

Steinman raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought Ryan didn't allow animals down here?"

Cohen looked at his fingernails in disinterest. "Didn't he?" He mused, giving a little shrug. "Must of slipped my mind…"

"How did you get it?"

"An artist never reveals his secrets," Sander winked at him.

Steinman only blinked back at him.

He must of asked Fontaine. That was the only person who could've and would've gotten the animals down here. He brought Ava's famed carousel down here after all. As well as the casted model of the 'Thinker' in Rapture's central computing. It was a well known not spoken about secret. Ryan was going on about all this smuggling being bad for Rapture and Steinman believed that everyone in Rapture was using it.

Even Cohen, who had spoken publicly about being close to Ryan, but if people wanted something they would get it. Cohen certainly would. No one said 'no' to Sander Cohen. Not even Andrew Ryan.

"What are the harnesses for?"

"Damage control," Cohen shrugged. "I can't have my art being ruined by people's incompetence. If someone steps out of line…" he let a ghost of a smile flicker across his face. "Then young Fitzpatrick will dissuade them from doing it again," the smile slipped off his face to show he was dead serious. "By shooting 20 volts through them."

Steinman raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickered up to the four shadows again. They were still there, still watching the two of them. He was surprised they were doing this, apparently you really could get anyone to do anything. If the price was right.

"I don't like this, Bill," Em mumbled, carrying her toolbox. "It just seems weird. What was Big Kate doing here in the first place?"

Bill and Emilie were walking through Dionysus Park, the place was littered with the aftermath of the party that had been thrown last night by Ava. Just the pieces of forgotten party favours, masks, hats and broken glass was enough of a hint towards the intensity of the party. Or the craziness of it. Em didn't see the appeal in parties like this. She thought they were all trying a bit too hard.

Bill sighed, giving a little shrug as they walked past the sculpture section of the park. It had once been one of the common rooms. A place that the partiers who were tired could come and relax in. Now it was a show house for Lamb's little art show. Ryan hated the work her followers did, you could see it on his face whenever it was mentioned or when he happened to see the work. He couldn't do anything about it, though. No sensor in Rapture after all, it was the same reason he was losing the public speaking with Lamb. Whilst it was funny to watch, she did have to wonder just how far Lamb could push him before he moved to more… radical ideas.

"We have to watch everythin' in this place," Bill sighed, walking them through another door. "Can't risk anywhere flooding. Even if it's Lamb's crazy art show," he paused a second, eyes flickering to Em. "And we won't say a thing to Ryan about it."

Em raised an eyebrow. "Surly he should know about a leak in his city?"

Bill bit his lip, glancing around for a second, before he leaned closer to Em so he could whisper to her. He was nervous, that much was certain. Scared even. Of what? Of what he was about to tell her or of Ryan finding out? A lot of people recently had become scared of Ryan. They used to respect him, now they spoke in fear about him.

"Listen, between you and me," Bill licked his lips nervously. "I don't think Andrew Ryan would be too upset if this place got drowned."

"I don't think he would either," she shrugged. "Why are you so nervous about this? Everyone knows that Ryan hates Lamb. Of course he wouldn't be upset."

"I also don't think he'd be too put off doing it himself."

Em stared at him, her mouth agape. He had to be lying. Not liking someone and being political adversaries was one thing, but what Bill was suggesting… that was murder. Outright murder, you couldn't paint that as anything but murder. Ryan wouldn't do that, surly? She knew he liked to win, but that was taking it a bit far.

"You can't be serious…" she whispered. "We came down here to escape a…"

She didn't want to say it. She didn't want to say the word that had came to her head, because it was true. They'd came to Rapture to escape all the arguments and fighting that were brewing topside. She came down here no questions asked as the memory of the bomb lingered in her mind.

"I know," Bill rubbed at his chin, he looked like he was thinking. "I don't think he'd do anything…" he mumbled. "But I don't want to tempt fate. He's been awful… testy this past few months. Fontaine's giving him a headache," his eyes flickered to her, studying and almost looking a little judgmental. "You ain't seen anything have ya' luv?"

"No," she shook her head. "If Fontaine's doing anything… I haven't seen it," she shrugged a little. "Besides, do you really think he'd trust me? I work too close to Ryan."

Bill sighed nodding and they began walking again. Em was grateful she was a convincing liar, she was having to do it more often than she liked. She was having to lie to her friends too and she hated doing that. She liked Bill, but he was loyal to Ryan, loyal without a fault, like Reggie was to Fontaine. She liked both men, she trusted them until it came to anything to do with the boss. She knew where their loyalties lied.

"Here we are then," he gestured to a bunch of pipes, they really were a mess. She could see why Big Kate had been concerned.

The pipes themselves seemed strong enough, but if one party goer was a touch too clumsy, if someone tripped and smacked this section? This whole place would be underwater. They could probably drain it out, but in doing so would chuck the people out too. Either way, anyone caught in this place would be dead. The pressure locks would seal in every sorry soul trapped in this place and they'd drown. It would protect the rest of the city, sure, but it wouldn't even give the people trapped in this place a chance to escape.

"I'm not sure how we're going to fix this," she mumbled, running her fingers along the pipes to find the faultiest part. "It's a mess, Bill."

"You're right about that," he took a closer look. "The pipes I'm not too worried about, just reinforce 'em, should be good… it's the pressure locks. Big Kate said they were faulty."

"I had a look while I was waiting on you and she's not wrong," Em frowned. "If this place went underwater they'd all seal. All of them. The place would be flooded in a matter of minutes, we can only keep so much water out. It leak underneath."

"I don't like it, Ms Em," he sighed, rubbing at his neck. "We're gonna have to tell Ryan… we need the proper stuff."

"He'll never sign for it," she mumbled. "He'll say that since the Park is Lamb's and Ava's they should pay for it. You know he'll come up with some excuse."

"Not really an excuse…" Bill shrugged. "He is right. It's their place, they should pay for it."

"And if they can't afford it?" Em raised an eyebrow at him. "You really want all these people's deaths on your conscious? Because I sure don't."

They stood in silence. They were stuck, there were no options for them. Ryan wouldn't allow it, the others probably couldn't afford it and at the end of the day the only people who'd be in trouble… were the ones that had nothing to do with the freud in the first place. The little people, the normal everyday folk. Wasn't that always the case? The little people always suffered. It was the everyday people who were just trying to get by that got hurt.

A flicker of movement caught her attention and she looked over Bill's shoulder frowning.

It was Stanley Poole. What was he doing here? Why was he with Lamb? Shouldn't he be writing up another of his idiotic pieces. Jesus she was starting to sound like Cohen. Still, why was he here? It made no sense.

"You need something, Poole?"

Bill turned around and Stanley awkwardly shuffled inside. He offered them a nervous smile, pushing his hair back and licking his lips. He was dressed in a simple suit, his tie was crooked and his jacket was open, hanging loosely off his frame. It didn't fit him at all, it looked about two or three sizes too big for him. Pinned onto the jacket's lapel was a blue butterfly, just like the ones Em had seen around the Drop. Like the one Cameal had been wearing when they went dress shopping. Those blue butterflies were popping up more and more.

"Oh no…" he laughed shaking his head. "Just taking a wander… you know..?" He gestured to the room they were in. "Seeing the sights."

"Isn't much to see here but a bunch of pipes," Bill frowned at him. "What are you doing here, Stanley?"

Poole shrugged a little. "Doctor Lamb's been awful kind to me… she's listening to a frustrated novelist."

"Don't you have to be a good writer to be considered a novelist?" Em raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

Stanley flushed a little, looking both embarrassed and angry. He wasn't the greatest writer, everyone knew that. Stanley knew that and he wasn't best liked either. There were reasons of course. He was a dirty rat for one. Nosing into other people's business, something he had no business doing. Still did it. News man pay dirt and all that. Em wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to get the dirt on Lamb, that would certainly get him into Ryan's good books. It sounded like the kind of pathetic bullshit Poole would try, just so he could get noticed.

Stanley coughed into his hands and shrugged. "Ain't it everyone's personal opinion? Look I was just curious is all," he took a few cautious steps towards them. "Why are two of Ryan's big shots down here? Well… you're not exactly Ryan's big shot, are you Ms Lokken? You're more Fontaine's big shot…"

She narrowed her eyes at him. This was why she didn't like Poole. He tended to just find things out and you wouldn't know how he did it. That was the reason no one liked him. You couldn't trust him, he'd rat you out if it meant getting a good review for his work.

"Why don't you go back to your typewriter, Poole?" Bill suggested none too pleasantly. "Bet it's getting lonely."

"What's going on with the pipes?"

"Never you mind," Bill waved him away. "Get going."

He left this time, shuffling out of the room, keeping his head down and disappearing around the corner. Emilie and Bill waited a few minutes to make sure he had actually left. He tended to hang around to hear whatever would be spoken afterwards. Those were usually the things that people didn't want sharing after all.

"I hate him," Em mumbled. "Doesn't mind his own business."

"I know," Bill sighed, turning back to the pipes. "But I guess it's his job."

He was right about that, but it didn't mean Em had to like it.

Bill decided to call it a day. There was nothing they could do without funding to fix the damn pipes and Ryan wasn't going to lift a finger. They'd had to go to Medical a few times to talk to Steinman about heating the pipes. He didn't do it all the time and then the pipes would freeze and burst, leaving a bigger mess for them to clean up. They always told Steinman, Bill had even left an audio message to remind him. Em had spoken to Rosa about it, trusting her to pay attention more than Steinman, but they still had to be called out some times.

She didn't go out to many of those, she was an electrical engineer and mechanic for the most part. She knew little bits about plumbing, enough to help out, but not enough to deal with it by herself. That's where Bill came into the picture. He was the best Plumber that Em had ever seen and he certainly had his work cut out. He was in charge of keeping all of Rapture's plumbing going, keeping the pumps working, stop places from flooding. Keep the city standing and stop the leaks.

He'd spoken to the Wales brothers about some of the design choices. Sure something may look pretty but it wasn't much good when it didn't function correctly. There'd been some big arguments about those. Daniel Wales was a bit of a hot head, compared to his brother Simon who was more meek and spoke softer. Simon, Em didn't mind, but Daniel? They'd almost always gotten into fights. Both verbal and physical. It wasn't proper to hit a lady? Daniel Wales didn't seem to care.

She'd heard recently that the two bothers had fallen on hard times. Simon was filled with guilt whenever Rapture leaked, Daniel would snap at him not to, saying something like 'crying about it was only going to add to the moisture', arguing that 'who's to say it's our design'? Everything. Everything said it was their design that was causing Rapture to leak. Sure the city looked impressive, but there was rust in some parts on the inside and she'd even spotted coral growing in the lower parts of Rapture. So yes, it was their design, but you better be ready to dodge a punch thrown in your direction if you ever said so. Or even an empty and sometimes not empty bottle of whisky.

"I might have to talk to Wales about it," Bill muttered.

"You might want to do that alone," Em shrugged. "You know me and Daniel don't get along."

Bill laughed softly. "Yeah, don't I just…" he shook his head, glancing at her. "Listen, luv… I know it's not my place to say anything but… are ya being careful? Around Fontaine I mean?"

"Fontaine?" Em squinted at him. "What do you mean, 'be careful', he's not going to kill me, Bill."

At least he wasn't going to kill her at the moment. He wasn't going to murder her yet, probably hadn't worked out the best way to dispose of her and she'd been good. She hadn't caused any issues. She kept her head down and did her work, no questions asked. He liked that.

"Just.. be careful," he frowned at her. "He's a crook."

Like she didn't know that? The cigarettes in her pocket were evidence of her knowledge. She was certain everyone in Rapture knew that he was a criminal, but there wasn't any evidence so Ryan couldn't do anything. She still wasn't certain she believed all the rumours, but she wasn't desperate to find out the definite answer.

Emilie patted his back softly and offered a comforting smile. She wasn't going to do anything stupid or at least, nothing that was any more stupid than what she'd already done.

"Don't worry about me, Bill," she offered a smile. "I can handle myself."

It tasted like a lie even as she said it. He didn't seem to believe her either or at least he didn't believe she could handle herself against Fontaine. She was starting to think he was right. Fontaine moved in too many directions for her to keep track of. You'd think he was going to do one thing and would end up doing something completely different.

At the end of the day, Fontaine was dangerous. That was the be all and end all of it.

O'Riley stared at the commotion that was going on. He didn't know if he should step in or not, because the little boy that was being yelled at looked two seconds away from crying.

Henderson had found the boy trying to enter the fisheries, he'd dragged him away and yelled at the kid. He was still yelling at him because the boy wouldn't leave. He was being insistent. Hell, the little tyke was saying he was here to see Fontaine, but Henderson wasn't having it.

He was being loud about it, but the boy was still insisting that he was here to see Fontaine. He was a stubborn little bastard that was for sure. He kept going on about this watch and then spoke about talking to Fontaine in his office or something. That was the final straw for Henderson apparently.

O'Riley couldn't stop him, he'd already raised his hand and backhanded the boy across the face. The kid went flying, smacking the floor hard. He had yelled and curled in on himself, but he didn't cry. Almost like he didn't really feel the hit itself, he was just curling up to protect himself from more hits.

Henderson looked like he was considering it, but before he could make a move to hit the boy again and yell at him another voice cut through the commotion.

"The hell do you think you're doin'?!"

Everything froze. Hell, it even felt like the water stopped moving for a moment there. O'Riley stared as Fontaine came over to Henderson and the kid.

Henderson tried explaining what had happened, but Fontaine didn't want to hear it. He looked furious. He looked like he was going to murder Henderson right then and there, security cameras be damned.

"Kid, come here."

The boy was up on his feet, quickly running to hide behind Fontaine, peeping out behind his legs and stared as Henderson went a deathly shade of white. O'Riley understood why, because what the hell was going on? Was the kid not lying after all and he did know Fontaine? Sure looked like it.

Fontaine was almost screaming at Henderson, then he yelled for Reggie and the bruiser took Henderson inside, no doubt round the back of the Fisheries. That's where they handled most of this business. If a guy stepped out of line, if they made a mistake, there was only one way Fontaine dealt with that and he dealt with it quickly. No one was going to rat him out and the kid wouldn't understand the implications.

O'Riley kept his head down, listening to the conversation as he moved more boxes.

"The hell you doing here kid?"

"I got him, Mister Fontaine!" The kid sounded excited. "I slugged him one, just like you said!"

"Yeah?" Fontaine sounded amused. O'Riley risked a glance and had to do a double take because Fontaine was smiling at the kid. Hell, he looked amused.

"You got him good did ya?" Fontaine asked, reaching for the kids hand to look over his knuckles. "You put some ice on those, ya hear me?"

"Yes, Mister Fontaine!" The boy beamed at him. The kid looked proud of himself. "I used the watch like you said. He started crying… I didn't even hit him that hard."

"Huh. All bark and no bite," Fontaine smirked. "A lot of 'em are like that. Not bad kid. Least ya can slug it out," he reached forward and ruffled the kid's hair. The little boy was giggling looking thrilled at having gotten some approval from Fontaine of all people.

"Get going back to yer roost," Fontaine waved him away, turning on his heel to leave, but the boy stopped him. He'd grabbed his hand before quickly letting go, shuffling a little awkwardly.

He wasn't the only one. Fontaine looked awkward as hell. O'Riley didn't imagine him mixing with kids at all, he didn't understand where he met this one. The boy had an accent to him, he sounded like that Norsky engineer. O'Riley thought he'd seen the kid around Pauper's Drop, he was one of the poor ones, so how did he know Fontaine? Couldn't be the Norsky's kid, could he? That was a crazy idea.

"What?" Fontaine snapped a little, his eyes narrowed. "I'm busy kid."

"I know…" the boy sighed, his blonde curls tumbled into his face as he looked at the floor. "I just… I wanted to ask if you could.. no, it's stupid."

Fontaine sighed, long and suffering. "What is it? You ain't gonna go away until you tell me are you?"

"Well.. there was this kid, but I… I thought we were friends and then when the big kid showed up he started picking on me too and-."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Fontaine rubbed his eyes, he glanced around a second before kneeling to the kid's height, placing his hand on his shoulder. "You listen to me and you listen good. Okay? You only need four rules to get by in this life," he held his hand up, counting off four on his fingers. "I'll teach 'em ya' and maybe they'll save ya' life. But this is the last thing I'm doing, you get me? Don't make this," he gestured between them. "A habit."

The boy looked sad, looking at his feet and nodding his head.

"I know, Mister Fontaine…" he said miserably. "It's just…" he looked up at him with big pleading brown eyes. "You're the only one who understands…."

Fontaine frowned at him. "Don't be trying my own tricks against me, Kid," he pointed at him. "Cut it out with the eyes."

"It's not a trick!"

"Bullshit," he poked him in the chest. "If you's anything like me, ya' little bastard, that right there is grade 'A' flim flam," he pointed at his big brown eyes. "So knock it off."

The kid looked at the floor miserably again. "But I'm not trying to trick you… I just…. I like you Mister Fontaine and you're the only one who understands! Uncle Kyburz and Uncle Daniel would've told me to run away and play somewhere else, my Mama doesn't want me to get hurt, but you told me how to solve the problem," he looked up at him and beamed. "And I solved it! Because of you!"

O'Riley was shocked. This kid was looking at Fontaine like he just gave him the moon or the sun. He idolised this man, this criminal who didn't even blink when he killed someone. This innocent little boy believed that Fontaine was… somehow a saint. A hero. By the sounds of what Fontaine had taught him, he sorta was. He'd helped the boy deal with a bully by the sounds of things and now the child was back, looking for him to show him he'd done it. So that Fontaine would be proud of him.

He understood then. The kid didn't just idolise Fontaine, he didn't just hero worship him. He looked at him… he looked at him like he was…

O'Riley frowned. The idea made him sick. How could any kid, a little boy or otherwise look at Fontaine like that? He didn't care how much Fontaine had helped him. It didn't make any sense, especially when O'Riley knew what Fontaine was, knew what he did. A man like Fontaine did not deserve that kind of adoration or… dare he say it, love? No, he didn't deserve it.

O'Riley heard Fontaine sigh, he glanced over noticing that Fontaine was now standing up, brushing himself down.

"Alright kid," he straightened out his suit, nodding towards the exit of the fisheries. "First rule, you better listen 'cause I ain't repeatin' myself," he eyed him and the boy nodded his head. "Okay, first rule; never trust anyone and trust everyone is in it for themselves. You trust someone in this town, ya may as well already lay down in ya grave, because they'll stab you in the back the moment it suits 'em."

He lost sight of them as they walked around the corner. He heard the door open and close and then he felt the presence of Peach standing next to him.

"That was…"

"Weird?" O'Riley raised an eyebrow at the other who nodded his head.

Yeah it was weird. It was the weirdest thing that had happened down here, period.

So now there was a new rule. Don't yell at the kid, that much was obvious and tomorrow Henderson would be found floating face down in the water. All because he yelled at a kid and hit him. O'Riley wasn't too upset about that, for once, he agreed with Fontaine. He hoped that this would be the only time.

O'Riley,

Things keep getting stranger:

So… not only do we have to be careful of upsetting Fontaine but now we gotta watch our step with a kid too.

One of the guys snapped at him, the next minute? Fontaine is coming down on him like he's got the power of god behind him.

I don't know what to make of it… afterwards the kid went trotting off with Fontaine all smiles. Fontaine was even talking to the kid about some rules… I don't know, like rules Fontaine lives by? Don't understand it myself.

One thing we all agreed on… that has to be the weirdest thing to happen at the docks.