[Text] / [Location: a cafe in Speares]

[personaldemon]

Does anyone know if transfer of credits can be accomplished from one person to another, here? So far all I have managed is using them at the stores or with the hatches, and as it happens this 'allowance' they give us isn't really adequate.

Where I was from, I offered my services in a consulting capacity, but if I cannot get payment for such here, then that isn't incredibly practical.

....on a similar note, if anybody wishes their tarot read, it appears I'm doing this for free until I figure out a way to return an investment on the deck I just hatched.

If so, I'm at the version of the Café Procope that they have apparently stolen from Paris and transplanted here. It is in the Speares district. I may be found at one of the upstairs balcony tables.

Comments

[personaldemon]

Jason leans back in his chair, hands finding the armrests, expression shifting from distantly polite to something a touch wryer-- a hint of an arched brow, a twitch to a lip.

"How I'm 'coping'? Mnh. Are you the psychiatric counsel, Mr. Glitch?

"As for 'weird' questions... I fear my barometer for the 'weird' is not particularly reliable."

[aintnoconvict]

At that he shakes his head, and finds himself straightening his own posture, folding his hands neatly on the table beside his glass. A courtier, but of high enough rank to expect respect. Not!King of Town.

"Nah, a passing interest, I think--" I think someone like you with your issues with masculinity and "--but no. I'm just interested in how people settle - and 'settle' is very subjective." He arches an eyebrow of his own. "It runs the gammut from folks happy to be here to others trying to blow the city and everyone in it up, with most falling in the middle."

tl;dr - He doesn't want the latter, Jason, please don't be crazy.

"And as for, ah, weirdness barometer reliability?" Glitch glances upward, going a little crosseyed in the process. "Everybody's is skewed. Maybe I should say there are no stupid questions."

[personaldemon]

"Blow up the city?" Jason echoes, looking vaguely amused. "That seems ill-advised. I promise I have no such intentions."

Although Etrigan might. Or possibly just try to burn the whole place down. He dismisses that with a tiny headshake to himself.

"Hmn. Fair enough. I suppose with the lot of us coming from such different lands there really is no 'normal', is there." Jason studies the ceiling himself for a moment, thinking, before asking, "In all your time here, have they given you any clue, or have you drawn any conclusions, as to what our captors want?"

these keywords are always apt

[aintnoconvict]

Glitch nods, accepting that, then ponders the question he's been asked so many times. The answer's woefully inadequate, but its' all he has.

"They want us to live," he replies. "The want us to work together, to be happy, to dance when they pull our strings. What they want from us is what we're giving them just by being here, there's no bargaining with that."

<3

[personaldemon]

Jason snorts in amused answer, grimly satisfied by Glitch's words.

"We're entertainment, then," he drawled, letting his head drop back against the chair's padding. "That's charming.

"And their power? It really is as limitless as it seems?"

[aintnoconvict]

Welp.

"In my own world I created a machine capable of stopping the orbits of celestial bodies," Glitch replies and takes another sip of his drink. "And I've been here longer than anyone. It might not be limitless but it's pretty damn expansive."

[personaldemon]

This time Jason is startled into a barked laugh.

"And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed..." He reached for the bottle (to hell with it) and poured himself a finger of whiskey as well.

"And with all these gathered here-- geniuses and the other... entities... nobody's figured out how to free themselves?" More a statement than a question. Jason frowns into his glass.

"I know of beings powerful enough to do such a thing but-- this isn't their work. I would know it if so."

[aintnoconvict]

"Suns," Glitch corrects, cheerfully and...okay with some smugness. Thank goodness they fixed it.

"Apparently there really are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy." Which is to say he may have pilfered (probably on Mayland's suggestion) a book of Shakespeare quotes at some point. "Espeically since folks have established this isn't Earth or heaven or the nome king's kitchen or whatever...I'm pretty sure none of the rules apply."

[personaldemon]

"It was a quote," Jason demurs slightly, a flick of his fingers around his own glass. "But.... point taken."

He closes his eyes a moment. Etrigan's insights might be helpful here, but the demon... has nothing to say. Curled down like a cat in the coals, unhelpful, lazing.

Etrigan is only ever quiet when it is inconvenient.

So they are somewhere outside the power of heaven or hell, but all the rules they each have brought with them hold true: Etrigan still lurks in his soul, and whatever sorcery holds this man's mind in.... whatever state it does... also seems binding. Mnhm.

He has a sip of alcohol, then sets the glass down to avoid temptation.

"Well. That's not exactly encouraging, but I suppose it could be a good deal worse, couldn't it-- they might actively seek our torture, and not merely the inadvertent sort they visited upon us with their Swag Peninsula re-enactment."



*Swag Peninsula is now the fake fandom version of Treasure Island just saying