Una, at this point, you’re just one step away from singing “I know something you don’t know” and sticking your tongue out at our poor, already over-wrought Auditor.
Actually, I’m not entirely convinced that you didn’t, seeing as that last panel doesn’t have your face in it. Plausible deniability achieved. Well done, Una. Well done.
And at last, all of you who asked me, “Is this name somebody I’m supposed to remember??” on this page can breathe easy. It was not, in fact, to notify you that you’d missed something. Just to make sure it didn’t seem like Una suddenly had some mysterious knowledge that came from nowhere when we got here. As though she had just spontaneously made it up.
…Of course, it could still be made up. This is Una we’re talking about, after all.
You’d think I’d be better at playing tricks and making things up, being a storyteller and all. Making things up is more or less the job description. Alas, I have this series of face nerves that won’t cooperate, inevitably displaying to the world that I have secret knowledge of the mischievous variety. This has been used against me since the days of playing “Heads Up Seven Up” in elementary school. Cory also uses it to his advantage if I have seen a show and he hasn’t, throwing out prediction after prediction and then confirming the correct ones by watching my face. Even in card games, it gives me trouble, and I have completely abandoned all hope of ever learning how to bluff in a poker game. My tells are: CAN YOU SEE MY FACE THEN YES YOU TOTALLY KNOW EVERYTHING JUST SHUT UP AND WIN THE GAME ALREADY. The only defense I have found is to smile like a crazy person 100% of the time, so that eventually people psyche themselves out assuming I am messing with them. I am messing with them. I am just also simultaneously guilty, guilty, guilty. It’s like, the Joker defense of expression management.
What are your tells, and who can see right through them?