Staring at Reaver across the span of the living room, Oriole slowly lowers his head and raises his eyes to the man. It's a serious gesture, bearing a bit of professional weight to it. "Please alert us to what we need to know about your condition if the need arises. I would rather you take caution on this matter."
Turning his eyes back to the hostage in the room, Oriole frowns. "My scan of the terminal shows no evidence of a virus, so the data is secure, and it appears that this gentleperson has suffered tampering as well."
"Sir?" Oriole says, trying to get the hostage's attention. "It appears that both you and this gentleman are the subjects of some form of mnemonic tampering. I would consider your memories about this man, at least for the time being, as being implanted for some sort of directive. You said your memories were shot to shit, then this means that your memories about this man could also be implanted. In your luck we are not murderers, so let's try to figure this out. Can you think to why or who told you to come to this apartment?"
:Persuasion 15
Rolling 1d100:
(80): Total = 80