(UmbrageOfSnow can add flavor later if he wants.) Just straight-up ripping off Hemingway's bitter comments on Dos Passon in A Moveable Feast
The scum always have a sort of pilot fish who goes ahead of them, sometimes he is a little deaf, sometimes a little blind, but always smelling affably and hesitant ahead of them. The pilot fish talks like this: "Eh, I'd rather not lynch him today. I remember thinking what he was doing didn't make sense as Mime. But I don't really remember why. Hem seems town. Could be Mime I guess. ~"
Then you have the lynch and nothing is ever as it was again. The pilot fish leaves of course. He is always going somewhere, or coming from somewhere, and he is never around for very long. He enters and leaves the game in the same way he enters and leaves wagons and people's reads in his early days. He is never caught and he is not caught by the scum. Nothing ever catches him and it is only those who trust him who are caught and lose. He has the irreplaceable early training of the bastard and a latent and long denied love of winning.
These scum loved and trusted him because he was distracting, comic, elusive, and because he was an unerring pilot fish they could tell that through all the then true sincerity of his votes it was a passing sham and that he was one of them although town did not know it then. The pilot fish was our friend of course.
Witherweaver has been lynched. He was the John Dos Passos, the mime-aligned mime.
I don't know if UmbrageOfSnow will be around (he was supposed to have been here for the flip tonight). For now I will say night 4 ends at 12:30am on September 20. He can change the deadline if he wants.