Godot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beenwaitinglong) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenace2014-06-26 02:22 pm
beenwaitinglong) wrote in maskormenace2014-06-26 02:22 pm
Entry tags:
- ruka | n/a,
- † armin arlert | n/a,
- † diego armando | godot,
- † edward nygma | the riddler,
- † eiko magami | n/a,
- † hans | prince of the southern isles,
- † isaac clarke | n/a,
- † kay faraday | great thief yatagarasu,
- † kotetsu t. kaburagi | wild tiger,
- † light yagami | n/a,
- † lucifer | n/a,
- † mako mankanshoku | n/a,
- † matt murdock | daredevil,
- † mia fey | n/a,
- † miles edgeworth | n/a,
- † roy mustang | the flame alchemist,
- † will graham | wolf trap,
- † yuri petrov | lunatic
Blend #4 - Video
[Godot sits on the sofa in the living room of his new apartment. The room is bare except for a few small boxes, and a coffee table in front of him on which the communicator is resting. Something like 12 white coffee cups are scattered around the table's surface.]
Indulge me in a parable, my Imported amigos.
[You don't really get a choice, it seems, as he is all ready to go. It's time for Morality, Philosophy and Coffee Talk with Godot.]
There once was a doctor who lived in a small, peaceful town. He was very successful, and often called to other nearby villages to care for the people there.
The doctor returned from a long journey one day to find the door to his home left open. When he went inside, to his horror, he found his family, dead, all the victims of murder. He caught a glimpse of a man fleeing through the back window with a bag of valuables. The doctor gave chase, but could the man escaped into the woods. There were no other witnesses, and the doctor was left alone with nothing but his grief.
[He pauses for a slow, savored sip of the coffee in his mug. For a moment, it almost seems he's forgotten about the story, so concerned is he with the coffee. Just when it starts to become an awkward silence, he continues.]
The doctor left his home to continue his traveling practice, haunted by what had happened to his family. Years passed, and he finally felt able to move on with his life.
One day, he was working the back lines of a battlefield. The camp was small, and he was the only doctor working. A cry came out from one of the nurses, and the doctor rushed to help. A patient needed surgery, quickly, in order to live.
But when the doctor saw the face of the man lying unconscious in the bed, he recognized him. It was the same man he had seen fleeing from his home the day his family had died. Here, a man who had made a vow to save lives held in his hands the life of a man who may have committed the ultimate personal wrong against him.
His oath and his livelihood bind him to save this man. However, he could also do nothing-- or alternatively, twist the scalpel in his hands a little too far to the left or right, press a little too hard, and watch him die.
[Godot gives this part a long, dramatic pause as he finishes off the last of his mug.]
That's the end of the story. But the answer depends on the listener.
So tell me. Does the doctor save his life, or not?
Indulge me in a parable, my Imported amigos.
[You don't really get a choice, it seems, as he is all ready to go. It's time for Morality, Philosophy and Coffee Talk with Godot.]
There once was a doctor who lived in a small, peaceful town. He was very successful, and often called to other nearby villages to care for the people there.
The doctor returned from a long journey one day to find the door to his home left open. When he went inside, to his horror, he found his family, dead, all the victims of murder. He caught a glimpse of a man fleeing through the back window with a bag of valuables. The doctor gave chase, but could the man escaped into the woods. There were no other witnesses, and the doctor was left alone with nothing but his grief.
[He pauses for a slow, savored sip of the coffee in his mug. For a moment, it almost seems he's forgotten about the story, so concerned is he with the coffee. Just when it starts to become an awkward silence, he continues.]
The doctor left his home to continue his traveling practice, haunted by what had happened to his family. Years passed, and he finally felt able to move on with his life.
One day, he was working the back lines of a battlefield. The camp was small, and he was the only doctor working. A cry came out from one of the nurses, and the doctor rushed to help. A patient needed surgery, quickly, in order to live.
But when the doctor saw the face of the man lying unconscious in the bed, he recognized him. It was the same man he had seen fleeing from his home the day his family had died. Here, a man who had made a vow to save lives held in his hands the life of a man who may have committed the ultimate personal wrong against him.
His oath and his livelihood bind him to save this man. However, he could also do nothing-- or alternatively, twist the scalpel in his hands a little too far to the left or right, press a little too hard, and watch him die.
[Godot gives this part a long, dramatic pause as he finishes off the last of his mug.]
That's the end of the story. But the answer depends on the listener.
So tell me. Does the doctor save his life, or not?
no subject
[That one would be very obvious if...he knew Will at all. Bitches swimming in lawyers; sounds like going in an ocean full of sharks. So basically another day out on the water, as Will knows it.]
Said it depends on the listener. You had to listen to it before in order to tell it. What was your answer to this when you were the listener?
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[It takes him a moment to respond to that one.]
I don't know. At one time, I would have given a similar answer to yours.
However, those who have sipped the darkness of bitter fate have far different perspectives on such things.
no subject
[Fishing jokes. Better than cannibal ones, right?]
People can slip into the darkest roast fate can provide and still give out extremely different answers. Black coffee grows lighter when you throw in creamer and milk, doesn't it? Doesn't mean it's still not capable of being dark and bitter.
no subject
[... is that-
coffee metaphors?
You, sir, are a gentleman and a scholar.]
That's true. It depends largely on the sweetness and acidity of the blend-- a milder brew will be able to balance them with the overall cup.
[Wait, he... might actually be talking about coffee now.]
no subject
See? You said our nonexistent doctor here felt he might be able to move on with his life. Dark roast eventually found light. Blend's acidity was compromised, and maybe it wasn't anything overly sweet, but it wasn't as dark as before. So if he builds up a bunch of that, fills himself with cream and sugar and milk, whenever he's faced with this murderer...does that immediately drain from his cup or does he fight that dark, outraged, bitter desire for immediate revenge while relying on what he's learned and come to grips with over the years?
He didn't have personality before, you said that. Maybe we can give him one. I'd like to add that my potential outcomes before don't rely on him being a good man, but we can add some flavor to this blank slate you've created. Good way to sum up my last job.
[CREAM. SUGAR. MILK. FLAVOR.]
no subject
Hey, now, that's entirely too much dairy product for any cup of coffee. If you want to taste milk and sugar, heat up a cup of milk and add sugar.
The real essence of coffee is in the bitter black magic-- the pure elixir, untainted by the mask of additions.
[... yeah, sorry, he's talking about actual coffee again. Maybe.]
no subject
Maybe it's a big cup. Maybe it's a thermos that's 3x the usual size. Some people just drink enormous cups of coffee, not everyone is the same.
We're getting off topic. I'll restrain coffee analogies in the future. I've always drunk it blacker than crude oil. Cheaper the better. Strip paint off the walls sort of crappy coffee.
[It's okay, he can get that way with dogs. He's a simple man, he likes a simple cup of simple cheap-ass coffee.]
no subject
[OH SHUT UP ABSOLUTE HYPOCRITE
Will's admission to liking crappy coffee, though, strikes him.]
Oh, no, no, no. No wonder you put so much milk in it. Stop destroying yourself and the good name of coffee with that swill and have a taste of the real stuff.
no subject
No, I don't put any milk in it. I just drink it straight black if I can. It's the coffee I grew up with. Nothing wrong with swill. Just there to keep me awake.
[This guy spends his time covered in grease and fishing and would sleep on the floor if he fell out of bed and had no energy to get up, he's a simple man who has no problem with nasty coffee. Unless he's around a gourmet chef.]
Isn't that the real stuff? No fancy, expensive beans flown in from overseas, so rare that it only grows on one acre, tended to by monks with special blessed water for their special coffee bean that nets them way more money than it should?
[Lecter has left his mark.]
no subject
[Son, you 'bout to get told.]
Not at all. A coffee bean is a coffee bean-- grown from the earth with sunlight and water, harvested. But it's what happens after that point that matters.
If it's thrown in a hopper, scorched, ground too much or not enough, or served without thinking, it's swill.
If it's treated with love, roasted with care, prepared with attention, and savored with passion, it's a miracle, whether served in a silver pot or out of a pump-dispenser in the back corner of a convenience store.
Blacker than a moonless night, hotter and more bitter than hell itself. That is coffee.
no subject
No really, what? Will reads this multiple times, and while he has strong emotions about dogs, this is coffee. This is fucking coffee they are talking about, and Mr. Lawyer Weirdass Parables Insight Guy is talking about coffee like...]
Did you mean to talk about beans growing into perfect coffee the same way you could talk about a pregnancy?
[His children are...cups of coffee? And here sits Will, with the magical power to repair broken coffee mugs. This doesn't escape him.]
no subject
[Coffee on the other hand.]
no subject
Is it just coffee that's your thing or are you a cigar man, too?
no subject
[Completely unlike drinking 50 cups of coffee a day, you see.]
no subject
["Moderation" with coffee is key.
"Moderation" with dogs is a filthy nasty word there can never be enough dogs this is not hypocritical.]
no subject
[Except when he doesn't drink enough. That's called "withdrawal."
Oh. And except for the one time. But that wasn't the coffee's fault.]
All men have their vices. Mine is bitter black magic.
no subject
[He is totally quoting a song here. An old song that shows his age. And that he has some Heart (oh no). The idea of drinking coffee late at night isn't beyond him; this asshole has to get up really early to go see some nasty crimes. Of course he's had a cup at all hours of the day.
This asshole, tho.]
no subject
At least you try to understand.
[Dorks.]
no subject
Wait wait.
Is that—is this—a kindred-ish spirit? Oh no, oh yes, oh good.]
Doesn't have to be a winter night to get in tune with coffee that's not crap, does it? You got some extra you wouldn't mind sending my way, might be able to realize coffee's more than just a stimulant to keep people awake. May still have time to save one guy's take on coffee. If you don't think that's a crazy idea.
[Look what you did, Godot.]
no subject
Amigo, I have 107 personal blends I made myself.
You describe to me your favorite dishwater bilge cup of coffee, and I'll give you something of a religious epiphany in a cup.
no subject
Well, they're cheap. The cheapest you can get that's not generic store brand. Folgers or Maxwell House, I guess, if we're going by brands. Once I started buying my own. Before that, I have no idea. [Broke guys working in boat yards did not care. His dad probably caught him drinking it at an early age and thought good, his son wouldn't be griping for expensive fine stuff down the road because he was used to garbage.] Black as it gets. Crude oil in a cup. Never really used cream or sugar or anything until recently. They're okay sometimes.
[A guy like Will does not wake up a gourmet chef early in the morning, have coffee made a particular way, and pipe up to say that he'd rather not have that much sugar. There's rude, and there's that level of rude. Couldn't bring himself to do it. Will's coffee taste is literally "throw it on a wall enough, the paint comes off, who cares what it does to my insides? NOT ME." Or, shorter and perhaps just as accurate: "I like shitty coffee because it's all I know and change is scary."]
no subject
Yes, really.]
Do you own a drip percolator? Most people have at least that.
no subject
I don't know. I just use whatever's in the housing they provide us with. And repair mugs, if they drop. That's about all I know.
[There is a pot and grinds go in one thingie and then the water goes through it and it's hot and then there's coffee.
Science.]
no subject
All right. I'll give you a small sampling of a few different varieties in exchange for the solemn promise that you'll follow the directions I give you to the letter.
They're not unreasonable. Simply times and measurements.
no subject
Then you've got my solemn promise. [As if Will does much that's not solemn in the first place. He's even got nearly sacred rituals for bringing a new dog into the family.] Even if your penmanship's chicken scratch, I can follow it to the letter.
[Teaching prepares him for so many things, honestly.]
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