Night fell outside the window, and the atmosphere in the office was less than harmonious.
If keeping quiet and drinking could avoid more awkward conversation, then Schiller had to admit that the wine Nyar had sent tasted quite good.
He had absolutely no desire to know how he had incurred a debt to Nyar in the first place. He had already heard countless similar stories from Lucifer.
Although the name in those stories was Schiller, Schiller knew very well that it was not him. But even if it had been Anatoly, that was astonishing enough. He truly had no interest in that Doctor's illustrious "romantic history," nor did he want to know how he had turned all these powerful beings around him into resentful wives.
Sometimes, the incomprehensibility of Outer Gods had its advantages. At least Nyarlathotep did not talk much.
If he were like Lucifer, muttering about the past to tombstones whenever he had nothing better to do, then tonight would surely be sleepless. As Schiller had said, he already had enough problems lately. There was no need to add another.
The good news was that Brand did not seem inclined to dwell on the matter. Compared with Lucifer, who had always wanted his feathers back, Nyar seemed to have given up hope of ever recovering the debt.
From the day Schiller had met him, he had carried a faint air of despair. Schiller badly wanted to know what that Soviet Doctor had done to him.
"We still need to talk about Edward." Brand held the lower half of his wineglass with both hands. "I have spent a long time researching pathology, so I am not particularly familiar with those psychological theories. If you think hypnosis or similar methods would help his recovery, I have no objection. But if