Well. You are wondering what he’s got to do with these cultists.
“Right now, I just want to know one thing,” you say. You try to disguise your voice a little – he wouldn’t have heard it since it changed, but it’s just too hard to present your real self to him. “What was going on with that chanting down there?”
“Chanting?” he asks. He seems confused. “I dunno. All they told me was to patrol a couple levels below and stop anyone from reaching the bridge, and they’d make it worth my while. I noticed you in a spot they were particularly keen to keep people away from, even told me other patrollers weren’t allowed. Never gave much thought as to why. Or rather, I figured whatever it was, I’d be better off not knowing the details. Especially since it might turn out to involve, well, you guys.”
So he’s a dupe, not a cultist. You aren’t sure how that makes you feel just yet.
“In that case, we’re done,” you say, trying to sound as dismissive as possible. “Go back down there, and I trust you know better than to let anyone know of our little discussion here.”
“Yes, of course,” he says, rushing off.
You’ve never seen him like this. Totally pathetic. Explains a lot about the time he did spend with you, though.
Well. Enough distractions. Time to finally get to the bridge. You knock on the door; no sense surprising them too much by just bursting right in.
A sailor about your size, but with less muscle, opens up. He appears to have some sort of uniform, so probably an officer; you can’t tell his precise rank, but you should probably be deferential.
You’re expecting a “What is it?” or something along those lines. You’ll probably just wind up explaining about some of the weird stuff you’ve run into. Then let them deal with it.
But you’re instead asked a much more surprising question.