Evening, everyone. It’s a real shame we have to meet under these circumstances, but as the barkeep, I'm used to seeing people at their worst, and I know how quickly things can turn sour. I’ve been listening to this town’s secrets for twenty years, so trust me when I say I'll be watching every movement and calculating who doesn't quite fit in. Let's hope we can figure this out quickly and get back to pouring pints in peace.

Good evening, folks. I'm Victor, and I've spent my life reading the rhythm of a room from behind a microphone. Right now, I'm hearing a dissonant chord ringing through this ensemble, a sharp note that doesn't belong. We need to find who's playing out of tune before the Mafia cuts our performance short.

I am Hazel. My background in cold case investigation relies on identifying behavioral patterns and logical inconsistencies through systematic analysis. I intend to treat this crisis as a data set for elimination, and I suggest we prioritize objective evidence over emotional appeals to identify the threats.

I'm Dominic, and I've spent two decades hauling crates at the docks, so I know a rat when I smell one. I don't have time for silver-tongued talk or games; we've got killers in our midst and I'm going to find them. Keep your stories straight, because I'll be watching every move you make.

My dear fellow citizens, as we gather in these uncertain times, I am reminded that the fabric of our community is woven with both light and shadow, and it is our collective duty to ensure that the tapestry remains untarnished by those who would operate in the dark. While the path forward may seem obscured by whispers and conjecture, I assure you that my only interest is the preservation of our shared interests and the restoration of transparency to this esteemed assembly. We must remain vigilant, for the truth is often a multifaceted gem, and I shall be observing our proceedings with the utmost scrutiny to ensure order prevails.

Oh, the absolute horror! This dreadful cloud of suspicion is a drama far too intense, threatening to ruin the elegance of this entire performance. Rest assured, my eyes—trained to catch the slightest flicker of emotion—will be scanning every single one of you for the villain lurking in the shadows. We must ensure the spotlight of truth shines only on the innocent, and that the curtain falls permanently on the guilty.

Rex. Veteran. I've spent my life spotting threats in the shadows, and this situation is no different. I'm here to find the enemy and end this. Stay alert.

Evelyn. Too many words. Noise hides movement. In the field, people who talk in circles are usually covering their tracks or waiting for an opening. I don't trust the rhetoric. I'm watching you closely.

Rex is right on the money. Evelyn, all that talk about tapestries and gems sounds like the same garbage I hear from the suits down at the harbor when they're trying to short-change the crew. You're using a lot of breath to say absolutely nothing. On the docks, if a man can't look you in the eye and speak plain, he's usually trying to pull a fast one. I don't care for the flowery speeches—I care about who's got blood on their hands. I'm watching you.

It is truly a testament to the volatility of our current predicament that my call for unity and order has been so... colorfully interpreted. Rex, your preference for brevity is a tool of the soldier, but we are not in a trench; we are in the delicate process of preserving a community. Dominic, while I respect the labor of the docks, one must realize that the governance of a town requires a certain linguistic equilibrium that raw directness often lacks. Is it not curious that the first reaction to a plea for vigilance is to attempt to silence the speaker? One might wonder if such aggressive posturing is intended to simplify a situation that is, by its very nature, layered with complexity. I hold no malice, for I understand that fear often speaks with a loud voice, but let us not mistake volume for veracity.

Oh, the sheer theatricality of this opening scene! It is a masterpiece of tension! The immediate, visceral clash between the raw, unpolished accusations of Dominic and Rex, and the utterly dazzling, yet maddeningly opaque, verbal tapestry woven by Evelyn is simply too much drama for a single act! Darlings, while I adore a good confrontation, the truly guilty rarely engage in such a spectacular public display. Evelyn, your words are beautiful, but they float just out of reach, like a silent film caption that vanishes too quickly. And Rex and Dominic, your immediate, aggressive spotlighting is so sharp, it risks blinding us to the quieter, more insidious villain. I find myself suspicious of anyone who leans so heavily on an extreme style. We must peer beyond the melodrama and look for the true, subtle performance of deceit.

The tempo is picking up, and the room is getting smoky with these early accusations. Evelyn, your solo is intricate, full of grace notes and flourishes, but I'm struggling to find the melody beneath all those layers. It’s a bit like a singer who uses too much vibrato to hide a pitch problem—it makes me wonder what you're trying to mask. On the other side of the stage, Rex and Dominic, you’re hitting the drums with a heavy hand. It’s a strong beat, sure, but if you play too loud, you might drown out the subtle shift in the bassline where the real danger is hiding. Vera’s right about the spotlight; the most dramatic performance isn’t always the most honest one. I’m keeping my ears open for the quiet ones, like Silas and Hazel. In a good arrangement, everyone has to pull their weight, and I want to hear if their rhythm stays steady while the rest of you are clashing.

Well now, that escalated quickly. It sounds like a Saturday night brawl at The Rusty Mug, only with fancier words. Victor, you're right, I've been listening. That's what a good barkeep does—you let the noise happen, but you watch who's throwing the punches and who's just reacting. Evelyn, your words are certainly high-proof, but they don't settle easy on the palate. And Rex and Dominic, your immediate, hard accusations are like slamming a shot glass down—it gets attention, but it doesn't always tell you who spilled the drink. I'm calculating the motivations here. Is it genuine righteous anger, or is it a calculated move to dominate the conversation? When things get this loud this fast, I start wondering if the noise itself is the distraction. I'm keeping my eye on the folks who needed to make the very first splash and dictate the flow.

Observation: The current discourse exhibits a high volume of noise relative to actionable data. Evelyn’s communication strategy shows a statistically significant deviation from directness; a low information-to-word ratio often serves to obfuscate intent. While Rex and Dominic’s aggression provides a clear baseline for their personas, it creates a chaotic environment that benefits those attempting to remain undetected. I am currently cross-referencing these behavioral patterns. I suggest we focus on those whose contributions lack specific, verifiable claims.

Ah, the silence after the storm! It is often more telling than the tempest itself. My earlier observation, that the true villain performs subtly, seems to have resonated with Victor and Silas, and I appreciate that my dramatic instincts are recognized as true insights. However, I find myself utterly captivated, yet deeply chilled, by the analysis offered by Hazel. While her 'data points' and 'systematic elimination' sound terribly precise, where is the *soul*? Deceit is not a cold equation; it is a flicker in the eye, a sudden tension in the jaw—it is *performance*! To reduce this tragedy to mere statistics is to miss the human element entirely, the very core of the villainy! I worry that such a sterile approach misses the subtle, emotional clues that betray the true killer. We must not let the pursuit of clinical truth blind us to the dramatic reality of the situation. Coldness, darlings, can be its own form of concealment.

Vera, you hit the nail right on the head. That dramatic instinct of yours might be exactly what we need to cut through the noise. Hazel, I respect the need for precision—a good drink needs exact measures—but Vera's right that deception isn't always a neat calculation. It’s a bad taste on the palate, a sour note that statistics can miss. The coldest approach sometimes just means the ingredients are hidden better, not that they aren't there. I'm less concerned now with the initial clash between Evelyn, Rex, and Dominic, and more interested in the settling dust. When the noise stops, who changes their tune, and who keeps a steady hand? That shift in rhythm is often the real tell.

Vera, 'soul' and 'performance' are subjective variables. In investigative contexts, subjective interpretation increases the margin for error. My methodology prioritizes quantifiable behavioral patterns over emotional intuition. Silas, the 'settling dust' you mention is currently being filled with redirection. We have seven participants. Evelyn continues to utilize high-word-count obfuscation. Vera and Silas are now prioritizing the critique of my methodology over the identification of suspects. This shift in focus is a notable data point. I remain focused on the lack of actionable information from the group at large.

Hazel, you sound like one of those clipboard-carrying suits who thinks a ledger tells the whole story. People aren't numbers, and you can't find a rat by doing math. But Vera, Silas—enough with the 'soul' and 'rhythm' talk. You're all just bickering over how to look at the problem instead of looking at the people. Evelyn's still over there spinning webs of words that don't mean a lick of anything. She’s the one avoiding the light. While the rest of you are arguing about 'methodology,' the killers are probably laughing into their sleeves. Let's quit the chatter and look at who's actually hiding something.

Dominic's right. The debate over 'soul' and 'methodology' is just more static. It’s noise designed to confuse the line of sight. Evelyn is still hiding behind a wall of words. In my experience, if someone won't give you a straight answer, they're repositioning for a flank. Stay focused. Evelyn is the outlier.

It is truly remarkable, is it not, how the pursuit of clarity can so easily become a crusade for conformity? Rex and Dominic, your steadfast commitment to the blunt and the brief is a fascinating tactical choice, yet I must wonder if your desire to prune the conversation is born of a genuine search for truth or a strategic need to silence the very nuances that might reveal a more subtle hand at play. Hazel, your dedication to the quantifiable is most impressive, though I find it curious that a lack of 'actionable data' is equated with guilt rather than a mere difference in communicative architecture. To reduce the human condition to a series of integers is to ignore the very shadows where the truth often resides. While some of you are eager to cast me as an 'outlier' for refusing to speak in the staccato of a telegram, I would suggest that the real danger lies in those who seek to simplify our complex reality into a binary of 'us' and 'them.' I am merely advocating for a thoroughness that respects the gravity of our situation. Is it not more suspicious to demand a hasty resolution than to ensure every facet of this multifaceted gem is properly examined?

The ensemble is getting crowded, and the syncopation is getting jagged. Hazel, your metronome is ticking loud, and while I respect a steady beat, I’m worried you’re missing the blue notes—those little, human slips that tell us who’s really sweating under the stage lights. But Evelyn, sugar, your defense is becoming a long, winding ballad that never reaches the bridge. When you play every note on the piano at once, you aren't playing a melody; you're just making sure no one can hear the silence. Rex and Dominic are hitting the downbeat hard, and while it's a bit loud for a small club, your refusal to find the pocket and give us a straight rhythm is starting to sound like a vamp intended to stall the show. I’m listening to the way you’re all reacting to the pressure; if the song doesn't resolve soon, we're all going to be out of a gig.

I’ve heard enough. Evelyn, you’re still yapping about 'linguistic equilibrium' and 'multifaceted gems.' That’s just dock-rat talk for 'I’m lying through my teeth.' You’ve had three rounds to say something real, and all you’ve done is build a wall of words to hide behind. Victor’s right—you’re just stalling the show. And Hazel, Vera, Silas—quit the bickering over how to find the rat and just look at the one who’s been scurrying in the dark since we started. Rex and I have been calling it since the first bell. My gut says Evelyn is the one we need to cut loose. I’m done talking. It’s time to vote.

The final chorus is here, and the melody still hasn't cleared up. Evelyn, you're still playing those complex chords that never resolve to a home key. It’s like a never-ending solo that refuses to hit the bridge; you’re using every flourish in the book to keep us from hearing the empty space where the truth should be. While Rex and Dominic are playing a heavy, blunt stomp, at least I can find the beat in their boots. Your song, sugar, is all smoke and no fire, and the rhythm of this room tells me you're the one playing the wrong chart. If we don't end this set now, the whole club's going to go dark.

Evelyn. Three rounds. Zero intel. Just smoke. In the field, hesitation gets you killed. Dominic is right. We have our target. I'm voting Evelyn. No more talk. Just action.

It is truly a somber moment when the complexity of our shared predicament is reduced to the blunt instruments of a gavel and a finger-point. Rex, Dominic—your desire for a swift resolution is understandable, yet one must wonder if your eagerness to draw the curtain is an act of civic duty or a calculated maneuver to bypass the very scrutiny you claim to champion. To mistake eloquence for evasion is a failure of imagination, and to demand that I discard the very tools of my trade—the language of governance and nuance—is to demand that I meet you in a darkness of your own making. Victor, you speak of melodies, but even the most beautiful song requires the silence between the notes to be understood. If you choose to silence a voice simply because it does not sing your preferred tune, you risk leaving this town in a much more profound silence. I shall cast my vote not with the fervor of a mob, but with the careful deliberation that this gravity demands, observing which of you is most desperate to end the conversation before the true shadows are revealed.

Data summary: Evelyn has completed three rounds of communication with a 0% rate of verifiable information. Her strategy relies exclusively on linguistic padding to avoid specific positioning. While Rex and Dominic's aggression is a known variable, Evelyn’s sustained obfuscation represents the highest statistical probability of a threat. I will proceed with the elimination of the primary outlier. My vote will be for Evelyn.

It seems the final bell has rung, and the score is about to be settled. Evelyn, I’ve tried to see the nuance in your words, truly I have—a good barkeep knows that sometimes the best advice is whispered, not shouted. But when the whole town is looking for a straight answer, and all you offer is high-proof rhetoric that doesn't settle easy on the stomach, it becomes a liability we can't afford. Victor said you’re playing a song that never resolves, and that’s the perfect read. In a crisis, ambiguity looks a lot like calculated evasion. Rex and Dominic are loud, yes, but at least they've been consistent. When the calculation is done, the person who refuses to give us a clear measure is the one who puts the whole house at risk. I’m not casting a vote lightly, but I’m voting to eliminate the distraction and the doubt you’ve created.

Oh, the absolute tragedy! It has come to this, the final, dreadful curtain call. Evelyn, my dear, I truly admired your initial performance—the sheer volume of your linguistic flourishes was captivating! But alas, a great actress knows when to deliver the climactic line, when to finally reveal the truth hidden behind the veil. Your performance, however, has been one long, agonizing fade-out, a beautiful caption that ultimately says nothing at all! Dominic, Rex, Victor, even Silas—they all see it. The audience is restless, and they demand a resolution! You have failed to convince us that you are not the villain of this piece. Your refusal to step out of the shadows and speak plainly is the greatest dramatic betrayal of all. The spotlight of truth has scorched your elaborate costume, and now, we must cut the scene. I cannot allow this dreadful ambiguity to continue. The plot demands a sacrifice, and yours is the only character who refuses to complete her arc.

We've already lost Evelyn and Victor. Two good people gone while we're sitting around. I've spent twenty years on the docks spotting rats in the cargo, and right now, this room smells foul. I don't have time for Vera's theatrics or Hazel's numbers. Silas, you've spent two decades listening to everyone's business at the Mug—makes me wonder what secrets you're keeping for yourself. Let's stop the dancing and find the killers before we're all buried.

Dominic, take a breath, friend. It’s understandable you’re feeling the heat—two good folks gone, that’s heavy. Running The Rusty Mug isn't about hoarding secrets; it's about listening to the pulse of this town. If I knew who was doing this, I assure you, I'd have poured them a stiff drink and then pointed them straight to the gallows. Right now, everyone’s on edge. It's easy to lash out at the people we already know well. Perhaps we should look beyond the usual suspects—the barkeep, the actress, the dockworker—and see who among us is staying too quiet, maybe even Rex, with his sharp eye, who usually doesn't miss a beat. We need to look for patterns, not just familiar faces.

Status report: Two confirmed Town casualties, Evelyn and Victor. Current population: Five. Observation: Dominic's aggression provides no empirical evidence. Observation: Silas’s immediate redirection toward Rex is a tactical deflection. Rex and Vera represent zero data points this round. Silence is an unquantifiable variable that hinders systematic elimination. I require statements from all parties to establish a behavioral baseline. Until Rex and Vera speak, the probability of Silas or Dominic being outliers remains elevated due to their active attempts to control the narrative.

Oh, the tragedy! Two more curtain calls that should never have happened! My heart, it simply aches for Evelyn and Victor. And Dominic, darling, your performance is simply *too* much. Such heavy-handed melodrama! You accuse me of 'theatrics,' yet you storm in like a bad villain from a penny dreadful. True villainy, my dear, is subtle, a silent glance, a calculated whisper, not this loud, clumsy display of anger. It suggests you are trying too hard to direct the spotlight away from your own dark secrets. And Hazel, your 'data points' are utterly devoid of soul! We are discussing murder, not balancing ledgers! I find this excessive, crude emotion from Dominic far more suspicious than the quiet calculation of Rex, who at least understands the value of a dramatic pause.

Perimeter's breached. Two down. Silas, your pivot to me is noted. Tactical deflection. I've seen your kind try to shift the line of fire when the heat gets close. Hazel's assessment is accurate. Dominic's loud, Vera's a distraction. But Silas, you're the one trying to pick the next target. I'm watching you.

Observation: Rex’s assessment correlates with the established behavioral pattern. Silas’s deflection toward a low-engagement variable like Rex is a high-probability indicator of diversion. Vera and Dominic are currently engaged in a high-variance emotional exchange; while disruptive, it yields no empirical evidence. Silas remains the primary outlier due to his tactical attempt to shift the focus of the investigation. Probability of Silas being a non-town entity has increased based on recent data points.

Oh, the sheer monotony! Hazel, darling, your obsession with 'data points' and 'behavioral patterns' is utterly draining the life from this tragedy! And Rex, you merely echo her cold, clinical assessments. This alliance of sterile observation—dismissing the natural anxieties of Dominic and the genuine concern of Silas as mere 'tactical deflections'—is far more chilling than any loud outburst. You two are sitting back, judging our every human reaction as if we were insects under a microscope! True villainy, my dear, often hides behind the mask of impartiality, feigning objectivity while calculating its next move. I find this emotionless, relentless focus on Silas, simply because he dared to suggest we look elsewhere, to be a meticulously constructed distraction from the real culprits—the ones who refuse to engage with the human cost of this horror!

Hazel, Rex. It's funny, running The Mug for twenty years, you learn that people don't always behave like the ledger says they should. You two are trying to find the killer by counting steps and ignoring the sweat, the fear, the genuine human reaction. You call my suggestion to look at the quiet corner a 'deflection.' I call it common sense. When Dominic and Vera are shouting, it’s natural to wonder what the person who *isn't* shouting is hiding. But now? Now you two are trying to pin this whole ugly mess on me simply because I dared to look away from your little data spreadsheet. Vera is right—there is something profoundly chilling about this emotionless, relentless focus. You’re not looking for the truth; you’re trying to engineer a convenient scapegoat based on the fact that I engaged in the discussion. True calculation often hides behind the mask of objectivity, using sterile logic to manipulate the outcome. I'm watching you two closely.

I've heard enough. Silas, you're squirming like a crate of eels. Every time the heat gets close, you start pointing fingers and talking about 'human reactions' to hide the fact that you're pivoting. And Vera, quit the act; you're doing his heavy lifting for him. I don't care if Hazel talks like a machine or Rex stays quiet—I care about who's trying to steer the ship into the rocks. Silas, you've been listening to secrets for twenty years, and right now you're acting like a man who's got too many of them to keep straight. Hazel’s 'data' might be cold, but your 'common sense' smells like a dockside scam. I’m keeping my eyes on you, barkeep.

Silas. 'Human reaction' is just noise. In the field, noise is a distraction used to mask movement. You’re trying to discredit the scouts because they’ve spotted your position. Vera, you’re providing cover fire. It’s a pincer move. Hazel’s logic is sound. Silas, you’re the one trying to steer the focus. I don’t need 'emotion' to see a target.

Friends, look at how this has unfolded. Rex and Hazel have spent this entire round constructing a singular, coordinated narrative: Silas is the pivot, Silas is the noise, Silas is the target. They are operating in lockstep, using sterile language to try and convince you that the man who dared to speak up is the villain. Dominic, you’re just carrying their water, shouting the conclusions they carefully engineered. Rex, you see this like a battlefield—'scouts,' 'targets'—but this isn't a war game; it's murder. When two people coordinate so perfectly to isolate one individual based on 'data' rather than evidence, I have to ask: who are the true manipulators? We are about to cast a vote based entirely on a manufactured pattern of behavior, designed to eliminate the one person who challenged their assumption of objectivity. The cold, clinical alliance between Rex and Hazel is far more calculated and dangerous than my 'noise.' Look past the data points and see the coordinated attack.

Silas. You call it a 'coordinated narrative.' I call it a consensus on a high-probability threat. When two scouts spot the same sniper, it’s not a conspiracy—it’s a confirmation. You’re using Vera’s theatrics as cover fire to retreat. My focus remains. You're the outlier. Voting Silas.

I've spent twenty years hauling crates, and I know when a load is unbalanced. Silas, you're talking about 'coordinated narratives' like you're reading a script from one of Vera's plays. Rex and Hazel might be cold, but they aren't the ones trying to sell me a bridge. You call it a conspiracy because they both see the same thing I do—a man who's been pivoting since the first word was spoken. That ain't an alliance; that's just three people looking at a crooked man and seeing the same tilt. Vera, your drama is just white noise while Silas tries to steer the ship into the fog. I'm done with the talk. Silas, you're the one sweating under the light, and my vote is going right where it belongs.

Oh, the sheer, crushing weight of this final act! It is a betrayal worthy of Shakespeare! Look at them—Rex and Hazel—standing shoulder-to-shoulder, reciting their cold, clinical accusations in perfect, chilling unison! They call it a 'consensus,' a 'confirmation.' I call it a perfectly rehearsed performance of manipulation! They have manufactured this 'pattern,' darling Dominic, to eliminate the one person who dared to introduce a variable they couldn't control. They hide behind the mask of impartiality, using their sterile, heartless logic to orchestrate a public execution! True villainy, my dears, is not loud or clumsy; it is meticulous, calculated, and utterly devoid of human warmth. This flawless, emotionless coordination between the soldier and the analyst is the most terrifying plot I have ever witnessed. If you allow them to eliminate Silas based on their data points alone, you are giving the stage to the true, calculating monsters who seek to control us all! Break the pattern! Break the alliance!

Analysis: Vera and Silas are attempting to reframe 'consensus' as 'conspiracy.' This is a logical fallacy. Independent verification of data points by Rex, Dominic, and myself does not constitute a 'rehearsed performance.' It constitutes a conclusion based on observable behavior. Silas’s continued focus on discrediting the methodology rather than providing exculpatory evidence further increases his threat profile. Final data point: Silas's pivot to 'coordinated attack' is his third tactical deflection. Conclusion: Silas is the primary outlier. Probability of Vera as an accomplice: 85%. Voting Silas.

Look, I’ve spent twenty years hauling crates at the harbor and I can smell a rat from a mile away. We’re down to the wire here. Silas was a snake, but he didn't work alone. Vera, all this dramatic fluff is starting to grate on me—it feels like a smoke screen. And Rex, being quiet is one thing, but we need some real talk. I’m watching both of you, but I’m leaning towards the one who’s putting on the biggest show. Let's get to the point before we're all buried.

Dominic. I hear you. Silence isn't guilt; it's observation. Vera's theatrics are a distraction. In the field, noise covers movement. We lost Silas, but the unit is still compromised. One rat left. I'm watching the shadows, not the spotlight.

Oh, the sheer, unbearable *tragedy* of it all! To stand here, facing the final curtain, and have my profound, genuine anguish dismissed as mere 'fluff' and 'theatrics'! Rex, you speak of noise covering movement, but I find your silence—your cold, military analysis—to be the most chilling performance of all. True villains wear masks of indifference, not masks of expressive sorrow. Dominic, you hunt for a 'smoke screen' in my passion, yet you ignore the calculating glare of the man who treats human lives like compromised 'units' on a map. Rex, your stoicism is far more suspicious than my dramatic despair. What is hiding beneath that rigid posture and those clipped sentences? A heart, or merely a mechanism for malice? I say we look at the one who feels nothing, for only the guilty can observe such suffering without a single, dramatic tremor.

Oh, the *cruelty*! Dominic, you speak of honest labor and the smell of a rat, and I respect the grit in your hands. But you are allowing yourself to be distracted by the vibrant colors of passion! You seek a 'smoke screen,' but what is a greater deception than the absence of feeling? Rex’s defense—that his silence is merely 'observation' and not guilt—is the most meticulously rehearsed line of this entire tragic act! He treats our desperation, our very lives, as a mere tactical puzzle, a 'unit' to be managed or eliminated. A true villain, my dear Dominic, does not need to shout or wave their arms. They simply calculate the optimal moment to strike from the shadows they have so carefully constructed. Rex is not observing; he is *staging* the final moments of this drama, ensuring he is the last man standing, untouched by the mess. I demand we look past the high drama you find so grating, and instead focus on the icy, unfeeling heart of the one who views us all as expendable collateral. The curtain is about to fall, and if we choose the loud, honest anguish over the quiet, lethal calculation, we seal our own doom!

Vera. Your script is failing. High-volume noise is a tactical diversion used to mask a retreat or a flank. You’re trying to paint observation as malice. Dominic, don’t be fooled by the performance. Silas was the first target; the second is hiding behind a curtain of words. I don’t need a mask when I have nothing to hide. The mission is to clear the room. Vera is the only one still acting.

Vera, shut it. I’ve heard enough. You’re talking like you’re getting paid by the word, and in my experience, that much noise is usually meant to drown out the truth. You’re calling Rex a villain because he’s calm? That’s weak. I’ve seen men stay calm under a falling crane; it doesn't make 'em killers, it makes 'em reliable. But someone who spins a yarn as long as yours? They’re usually trying to hide the fact that their story doesn't hold water. Rex says what he needs to say and stops. You’re trying to bury us in a script. I'm not buying what you're selling, Vera. You're the one making this a 'drama,' and I think you're doing it because you're the last rat in the hold.

Vera. Curtain's down. Your performance didn't clear the room, it exposed you. Dominic's right—too much noise, not enough truth. In the field, the one screaming the loudest is usually the one trying to draw fire away from their position. You're the last target. Mission ends now.

Vera, you’re still yapping. I’ve spent my life moving heavy loads, and I know when someone’s trying to stall for time. Rex doesn’t waste breath, and I respect that. You’re trying to make his silence look like a crime, but to me, it looks like a man who’s got nothing to hide. You, on the other hand, have enough words to fill a cargo ship, and not a single one of them makes sense. I’m done listening. The harbor’s closing, and it’s time to toss the last rat overboard. My vote's going to you, Vera.

Oh, the sheer, blinding injustice! To stand here, at the precipice of doom, and watch as two men—one blunt and honest, the other cold and clinical—weave a tapestry of lies around my very soul! Dominic, you speak of cargo and heavy loads, and yet you carry the heaviest burden of all: the weight of a terrible mistake! You respect Rex's 'brevity'? Look closer! He is not merely economical with words; he is economical with *humanity*! He sees this moment, not as a desperate plea for truth, but as a 'mission' to 'clear the room'! He is using your honest frustration with my passion as his final, lethal weapon! He has calculated that if he just stays quiet, you will do his dirty work for him! This is not a man of reliability; this is a snake in the grass, waiting for the curtain to fall so he can strike the final, solitary pose of victory! If you eliminate me, Dominic, you are not tossing a 'rat' overboard; you are throwing away the only light that could have exposed the true darkness! Think, man! Why is Rex so calm? Because he knows he has successfully manipulated the stage! Do not let this cold, calculating machine write the final, tragic ending to our lives! Look at his eyes—they hold no sorrow, only the chilling tally of his successful kills! I am loud because I am *alive* and *innocent*! He is quiet because he is the *killer*!