Hell of an entrance for a sweet little thing like her. Fontaine looks her up and down, his interest stark and unveiled. She don't look much like any kind of Ryan Industries-commissioned specialist. What she looks like is scared, wet, trembling, lost.

Desperate. These lonely little saps always are.

He smiles thinly.

"You're in Rapture now, sweetheart," he says in his thick Bronx drawl. "Didn't clean the water outta your ears, did you?" He cants his head lightly. "What's someone like you doing down here, instead of topside?"