[Oh, Christ. Where has this asshole been? It's about 9:00 AM when a video feed transmits from The Seabreeze. White hair, red-lit visor and steaming cup of espresso in the foreground, Godot is using his talking as an excuse to show off his ability to make latte art at the same time.]

Good morning, passengers. I'm sure the lot of you have missed me terribly.

[The coffee shop has been empty for the better part of a month. Godot has seldom been seen ANYWHERE. It could be concerning if the espresso machine hadn't vanished in the night about a week into his absence, and the high-pitched squeals of steaming pitchers of milk and burbling of espresso shots started coming from Mia's bedroom instead. Along with high-pitched squeals of another kind, but if you're polite, you'd've ignored them.

Godot's cocky grin is less arrogant today, though, for whatever reason, and a little more... genuine. Calm? He looks relaxed as a cat in a sunbeam-- odd for a guy who drinks his weight in coffee in a day.]

I'd offer free drinks to anyone who wants to stop by the Seabreeze today, but, considering we don't seem to have any form of currency upon Our Fair Ship, I'll just take requests for drink art-- latte or otherwise. I've finally found a day that's managed to get me bored, so let's see what I can steam up, hmm?

[Wait 'til you see what lewd things he can make out of the foam in a cappuccino.]

[The feed opens with the face of a completely furious Mia Fey, who is holding a box of those stupid conversation hearts up.]

This place is ridiculous. I can't even enjoy candy. These things are EVIL. Do not eat them. Not that anyone but me would ever eat these, anyway. I think I may be the only rational human alive that actually LIKES these.

And they make you refuse to shut up and I keep saying really horribly embarrassing things and this is not good for ANYONE. No one needs to know what I'm thinking about them behind their backs--

THERE IT IS AGAIN.

...maybe avoid me until this blows over. Unless you want an excuse to hate me.

[The feed ends before she can say anything else to incriminate herself.]

Uh. Alright. So I've been spending some time in the library, and I had a question for anyone further forward in time than the year 2013:

Do chickens become the dominant species on Earth? And are lizards a major political party? ...Do either of them farm pickles in what is now considered the Middle East?

[She looks mortified to even be asking.]

I swear I have a good reason for asking.

[Pause.]

Also, Godot, I need to speak with you in person at your earliest convenience.

[Yikes, that sounded cold.]

[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.]

[PHFFFFF. THUNK. Mia hasn't quite figured out not to put her fingers on the microphone. Or that she's broadcasting. The Fey women aren't known for their technological prowess.

There is some unladylike cursing before she realizes other people can hear her.]

Alright, I don't know if this is someone's idea of a joke, but this has GOT to at least be a misdemeanor. Anyone want to tell me where this is? Or how I got here?

I swear, if Armando set this up....

[Frustrated grumbles. Possibly death-threats. All very quietly mumbled, though, so hard to say for sure. One thing is for sure, though: she is not a happy camper.]

Whoever is behind this, I'll have you know I am an attorney, and when I find out what's going on, I WILL have you prosecuted to the full extent of the law!

[There is a screech of feedback as the newest resident of the Black Tide attempts to figure out his communicator. Turns out, the bizarre pseudo-cell phone works more like a walkie-talkie than a traditional hold-up-to-your-ear-set, as Prosecutor Godot has just discovered.

He totally knew that was going to happen, by the way. Totally.

There's a quiet, frustrated grumble, and video accidentally kicks on. Three, blazing bright red lines are all the camera captures in the dark at first, until the focus adjusts and the outline of a man's face appears in the shadows.]

Would anyone care to speak up and tell me exactly where this is supposed to be?