Godot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
waitingfortoast) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
recommence2014-12-02 10:25 pm
waitingfortoast) wrote in recommence2014-12-02 10:25 pm
Entry tags:
[audio] / [video]
[Good news, everyone! If you will direct your attention, through the snow, to the third deck of the Black Tide, lights are on in the Seabreeze Café, and a white-haired man wearing a strange, glowing visor is puttering around like he owns the place.
It involves coffee, so he basically does. That's one of his rules: if coffee is involved, Godot will love it, body and soul, and... you know, polished driftwood countertops.
Once he's satisfied with the blends of the day, cleared out the snow, and had a cup or two himself, he posts to the network. More good news: his deep voice is as warm as his coffee.]
Ladies and Gentleman, I'm pleased to announce that not only have I found a working espresso machine in this snowy abandon, I'm sticking the flag of the nation of Godot into the countertop of this Seabreeze Café on deck three.
[It briefly cuts to video, showing a warm-ish-looking haven in the midst of the snowbanks of deck three. There is a sign taped to the front counter which reads: "Ask me about Prosecutor Godot's Challenge" in blocky letters.]
I propose a simple game, to pass the time and the cold. If you win, I'll allow you a mug of the greatest flavor known to mankind. If you lose, you can slumber with your own bitter disappointment tonight.
Your challenge? You must identify which mug of coffee I present you with is caffeinated...
...and which is traitorous decaf.
By taste alone.
[He chuckles darkly, and cuts the feed off. Don't worry, you'll still get free coffee, either way.]
It involves coffee, so he basically does. That's one of his rules: if coffee is involved, Godot will love it, body and soul, and... you know, polished driftwood countertops.
Once he's satisfied with the blends of the day, cleared out the snow, and had a cup or two himself, he posts to the network. More good news: his deep voice is as warm as his coffee.]
Ladies and Gentleman, I'm pleased to announce that not only have I found a working espresso machine in this snowy abandon, I'm sticking the flag of the nation of Godot into the countertop of this Seabreeze Café on deck three.
[It briefly cuts to video, showing a warm-ish-looking haven in the midst of the snowbanks of deck three. There is a sign taped to the front counter which reads: "Ask me about Prosecutor Godot's Challenge" in blocky letters.]
I propose a simple game, to pass the time and the cold. If you win, I'll allow you a mug of the greatest flavor known to mankind. If you lose, you can slumber with your own bitter disappointment tonight.
Your challenge? You must identify which mug of coffee I present you with is caffeinated...
...and which is traitorous decaf.
By taste alone.
[He chuckles darkly, and cuts the feed off. Don't worry, you'll still get free coffee, either way.]
[Audio/Video]
Her lurking suspicion of his true identity is now more of a "I'm almost positive but I'm waiting for you to admit it yourself", too. She hadn't used the psychelocks on him just yet, though.
In any case, she was cold--why would it ever snow indoors, she could not fathom--so she pulled on her new winter boots and a scarf that had been left by her door and set out for deck three. She clicked on her communicator on the way.]
You didn't.
[Audio]
[If you can't hear the grin in his voice, you are deaf as a doorknob, Mia Fey.]
[Audio/Video]
Why can't you be normal?
[She doesn't seem to realize she said that out loud.]
[Audio]
[More deep-throated laughter from Godot's side, and a quiet slurp of coffee.]
I sincerely doubt a woman whose resumé includes "spirit channelling" and "human lie detector" could be considered normal, herself.
[Why, Godot ONLY has a toaster on his face!]
[Audio/Video]
She cannot come up with an adequate response, so she just. Sputters. Lost for words. It's probably really funny to watch.]
S-sorr-I didn--You--
[Loading. Loading. Please hold.
She jams the button for the elevator.]
[Audio]
[An espresso machine seems to be burbling in the background.]
[Audio]
Well if you hadn't figured it out, I'm headed your way. I'm freezing. Could use a coffee break.
[Stupid boat.]
[commentlog]
no subject
Delving into sculpture?
no subject
[He's busying himself with something other than whipped cream now? Plastic crinkles ominously in the background.]
no subject
What are you doing back there?
no subject
[After another moment's pause, Godot comes out with a decent-sized paper cup with what is presumably coffee...
...and a little whipped cream snowman on top. He has little chocolate chip eyes.]
A warm treat for a frosty kitten on a cold day.
no subject
I...didn't know you knew how to do that kind of thing!
[She finds she's laughing a bit as she takes the cup to investigate the snowman more closely. She didn't want to destroy it, but she also wanted the coffee. ...She decided to attempt to eat the whole snowman at once. She ends up with whipped cream. ALL OVER her face.
Mia Fey's Embarrassing Day.]
no subject
[Godot? Secure in his identity? Hardly. But he's going to play it up like he is.
He wordlessly wanders back to the counter, retrieves a clean dishcloth and hands it to her. No judgement here, madame.]
Though I am curious to know what your opinion is on the drink, my sculpting prowess aside.
no subject
I'll let you know once I manage to get anything but whipped cream.
[She's laughing again. For how ridiculously this whole conversation has been going for her, she DOES enjoy his company, at least. She takes a sip.
...It's excellent. And not super bitter, like she was expecting from him. It was like he'd read her mind and figured out exactly which flavors would suit her best.
...Odd superpower. But if it got her delicious coffee...]
It's...wow. That's delicious. You may make a coffee drinker out of me yet.
[I mean sure, she drinks it, but she doesn't LOVE the stuff. Not normally, anyway. She loves THIS stuff. If all coffee tasted like this, she'd probably have an addiction as bad as his.]
no subject
[His grin takes a turn for the cocky again, but, really, he knows the coffee is good and it's hardly a sin to flaunt pure talent.]
Normally, I wouldn't spoil a good blend with this much sugar, but the stuff I found behind the counter responded surprisingly well to sucrose.
And a heaping helping of chocolate, too, of course.
no subject
....Caffeinated, right?
[She had remembered his "challenge" while she was drinking and figures she'll take a stab at it. If nothing else, she can argue that TECHNICALLY, even if she was wrong, the chocolate had caffeine in it. He's a lawyer--he has to know she'll go there.]
no subject
...or, are you just guessing that because of the chocolate inherent in a mocha?
no subject
No, but if I'd been wrong, I was going to make that argument. So I would have won either way, in the end.
[She stops and looks thoughtful for a few seconds.]
So, is my prize another one of those?
no subject
[So, basically, you get an IOU.
After a moment's thought, though, as he reaches to clear her cup away, an idea strikes.]
Would you care to learn how to make one? You could treat yourself any time.
no subject
Learning how, though, does.]
Sure. Though I'm sure yours will end up better. I can barely boil water.
[Translation: I don't wanna make it, it's better when you do it and it makes me feel special.]
no subject
[He slinks back over behind the counter, and starts hunting for the "proper" blend for the occassion.]
no subject
[Not that she's taken a case in...is it a month, now? She joins him behind the counter.]
no subject
[Aha. The correct beans. He sets them on the counter and pulls a portable, electric coffee grinder towards them, and begins measuring.]
Or did you have a tutor?
no subject
...Though, she thinks for a minute. Mr. Armando ground his own beans, too. Not that she needs more evidence--she has more or less figured out who he is. And they've talked a few times here, now. He hasn't admitted it, but... He was being very obvious, if she were being honest.
She sneaks her hand underneath her thick scarf and wraps it around her magatama. She manages to get it to hold a charge. She doesn't know how long it'll last, but she doesn't really need it to.]
Tutor, actually. My supervisor at Mr. Grossberg's office. You knew Mr. Grossberg, so you probably knew him. His name was Diego Armando.
no subject
Armando, eh? It's been a while since I heard that one. Grossberg said he'd died, too. Obnoxiously fond of him, whenever he came up in conversation.
[And, to drown out a follow-up, he starts grinding coffee beans.]
no subject
...How did he die?
[The magatama still has its charge, though she doesn't know for how much longer that'll work.]
no subject
Dahlia Hawthorne had poisoned him. If Mia-- this Mia, anyway-- is as young as she says she is, she was possibly still dealing with the fallout of the Terry Fawles case.
He'd been there for that. It had brought her into his arms, seeking comfort, but he always quietly thought her affection-seeking wasn't worth it if Dahlia Hawthorne was the trigger.
The girl'd only found out last week that she was destined to die young, herself. Better to spare her another panic attack.]
Broken heart was the story I'd always heard.
no subject
I.... I see.
[Had...that been her fault?]
...Do you know if I died before or after that?
[She doesn't know why this detail is important to her, but she feels the need to know--had his death been in reaction to hers? She couldn't imagine that--she'd known him, and they were somewhat close, but she couldn't wrap her head around someone dying because of her. She had to know for sure that it wasn't her fault.]
no subject
[He starts tamping down the ground coffee into a compact little bowl with a long black handle. He's... slightly forgotten he's supposed to be SHOWING her how to do this, not just... doing it.]
no subject
Bingo. She found the locks. But... this is not the lie she was looking for.
So...Diego Armando died after her? Why lie about that?]
Really? So...I would have been around when he died, then? It...didn't have anything to do with me, did it?
[She's having a tough time coming up with good questions. She was prepared to prove he was Diego Armando, not to figure out the timeline of both of their untimely deaths. She still didn't know how SHE died.]
no subject
[With a little flourish, he shoves the espresso into the machine, and adds, for emphasis:]
You had nothing to do with the death of Diego Armando.
no subject
THUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNKTHUNK.
What the--
The psychelocks were gone, but just as soon as they were, they were replaced with larger, black psychelocks. Mia had heard of these, but she'd never seen them.
It meant that whatever he was lying about was so ingrained...that he was even lying to himself.
Abruptly, the magatama loses its charge, and Mia can't seem to get it back. Damn.
Well. She was going to need time to figure out what this meant, anyway.]
I see. ...Alright.
[Not much she can do but take him at his word. For now.]
So, what do we do after we grind the beans?
TEXT
[Audio]
Unless you're referring to my challenge.
[Video]
Hey! Uhm, I'll--I'll take that challenge!
[Audio]
[....did that sound ominous? It might have sounded ominous.]
[Audio]
H-hey, uh-- are you--
[No eyes, no eyes. Carter's gaze flips this way and that before settling on Godot's hair.]
Coffee... guy...?
[Audio]
Indeed. Name's Godot. Prosecutor, coffee aficionado extraordinaire.
no subject
He trots forward, breath puffing out.]
Aren't you cold? It's freezing out here!
[He slows as he nears Godot, unsure. Carter drops his gaze automatically to the counter and looks at a mug.]
no subject
[Whatever that's supposed to mean. Godot is wearing a muffler and a handsome peacoat, though.]
Either way, that's what the coffee's for, wouldn't you say?
[Godot ducks away behind the counter, busying himself with a bag of beans.]
Espresso? Or do you prefer a less bitter drip?
no subject
[Carter totally misses any esoteric or philosophical point of poetry Godot was making. Carter is still wowed by his glamour.
He seats himself carefully and sets his hands on the counter. He watches the man work. There are no eyes. He can't get over that.]
So did you, uh, serve coffee as a part time job in law school or what?
no subject
[Because... because the coffee's so bitter. Godot, please, finish your thoughts.]
I've been known to play barista here and there, but mostly in my younger years. By law school, I couldn't abide by the sludge they wanted to call coffee any longer.
[Translation: law school's hard and I had an internship I had to keep up with.]