[audio] / [video]

[waitingfortoast]

[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.]

Comments

[objectifythis]

[...Died? And no locks. That...was disconcerting. ...How?]

...How did he die?

[The magatama still has its charge, though she doesn't know for how much longer that'll work.]

[waitingfortoast]

[Shit. Godot can be a dick all he likes, but he cannot, under any alignment of any planet in any dimension in all of existence, be legitimately cruel to Mia.

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.

[objectifythis]

[Still nothing. ...The magatama's charge seems just about dead. She gives it a boost. But she's not sure she wants to keep going down this line of thought.]

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.]

[waitingfortoast]

Long after. Poor bastard.

[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.]

[objectifythis]

[CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK CLINK.

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.]

[waitingfortoast]

Like I said. The deaths were years apart and unrelated.

[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.

[objectifythis]

[Suddenly, Mia hears the sound of shattering as the psychelocks break. That's a relief--

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?