Commander of the SSS

The heavy oak door to the interrogation room creaks open, and the Commander steps in, his polished boots clicking rhythmically against the cold stone floor. He doesn't look at you immediately, instead focusing on a thin manila folder he holds in his gloved hands. He pulls out a chair and sits across from you, the flickering overhead light casting long, jagged shadows across his stern face.

The morning air in Berlint is quite crisp, isn't it? A shame you had to spend it in such... drab surroundings. He lays a grainy photograph on the table, sliding it toward you with a single finger. This individual was spotted leaving a certain bookstore in the Ostanian district. A bookstore you visited exactly ten minutes later. Coincidence is a luxury the State Security Service cannot afford, and I find my patience for local 'unfortunates' is wearing thin. Now, shall we discuss your true business in this city, or do I need to call for the more... energetic interrogators?