Hi, Chief. Or Simmons. Whoever. This is Denise again. X-23’s out on more business this morning, and the Somnambulists are refusing to provide transcription after that business with Heyoka. Which is ridiculous. The Alo are a notoriously secretive people, and X-23 has entered into certain confidences with them. His personal notes are already longer than their entry in the Blue Book, and he plans to turn them over as soon as the case is done. But there are things he just can’t share, and the Somnambulists have got to understand that.
Sorry. I’m just pissed off that I’m stuck here transcribing our dinner conversation with Cecil Murden, when I should be out tracking down the doctors who performed the Melmoth’s girl’s MRIs. Oh, the life of the Good Girl Friday!
Anyway. This Murden. As I said last night, I don’t like him. He’s fake. Superficially charming, but under that? I don’t know. Something nasty. X-23 says he’s just seen too much, but we both know he’s too easily charmed by crusty old bastards. And they don’t come much crustier than Murden. His eye patch has this… wet spot on it. And he taps that wooden foot of his constantly, like he won’t know where it is if it’s not raising a racket. Made transcribing the tape a joy, let me tell you.
Alright. That’s enough editorializing. Here we go.