You found out that, while they didn't like the lamias, they didn't interact with any of them.

"Do you know about the lamias? What do you think about the Snake Eyes?" You asked.

"They take people's money. Don't like 'em." Thomas responded, then falling silent again.

"What do you think about the gnomes trying to buy out the place?" You continued.

"Don't like it." He responded, again becoming quiet.

"Why not?" You pressed on as the seconds of silence threatened to become minutes. You heard the women talk about childcare stuff in the background.

"Bad feeling 'bout it." He said. "Don't like 'em." A rare second sentence. When asking about the missing harpies, he said he didn't know much about them.

"What do you guys do for a living?" You said.

"Get scrap." Said the human man.

Further explanation revealed they all collected scrap from the trash around the plaza— confirming that there was indeed much scrap around here— selling it off to stores, junkyards, and any merchants willing to buy them in bulk. Though their history was something they avoided speaking of, you gathered that they likely had some sort of connection to the first people that came to Centria.

The rest of your wives were looking over the children, d'awwing and caring for them and generally showing their maternal sides.

Things seemed to be wrapping up when the three girls began to get drowsy. You considered giving something to this family, or otherwise asking something they knew about, since they seemed to just be getting by.

>There was no need. They would be better off when you fixed the place up. That would be their gift.
>Give them some gold. It seems like even a small amount would be worth much to them, since they only had copper coins.
>(Write-in).

With that done, you and your wives were getting close to becoming tired. More than one yawn was shared and signs of sleepiness began to set in. It was getting close to midnight.

But there was still one last place you wanted to check out tonight.

It takes some looking, but you finally found the place Ponnamie spoke about.

Nestled deep in an alleway you find a door that seemed out of place. You give it a knock.

The sliding peephole on the door glides on its wooden surface to reveal darkness, then a pair of red eyes. A distorted voice accompanied it that clearly dripped with illusion.

"Welcome, weary traveler. What brings... oh, it's you again." Said voice almost immediately lost it's mysterious tone the moment it layed eyes on you. "I see that curiosity brought you before the humble establishment."

"Do I even need to say the password?" You said.

"I'd like it." Said she, "At least t'keep my mind at ease."

"Master John Doe now owns this property." Gerty said. "You will open it, whether you like it not. Lest you wish to-"

"I already know." Interrupted Ponnamie. "An' I prepared for it."