WATCHER’s playfulness suddenly turns aggressive, a wild lusus no longer toying with its prey.

As the discussion develops, LONELY heads for a ship window, sensing something wrong. SONGBIRD notices and slowly inches towards him, never taking her eyes off the dueling pair in the center of the room.

WATCHER: An’ where’s this accusation comin’ from? Huh?
STRANGER: You make corpses, I clean them up.
STRANGER: Hard work for me, when you get this sloppy. Has your mask begun itching at last? Which did you wear this time?
STRANGER: Widow to a wealthy bondmate? Entrepreneur, up-and-comer? Old money baron? (THE WATCHER’s hand twitches.)
STRANGER: Baron. Fitting.
LONELY (gazing out the window): Something’s wrong.
CHAMPION: There’s a corpse in the room.
LONELY: Besides the obvious.
LONELY: See for yourselves.