Aug 11, 2011 23:16
[He's just going to sit, chin on his fist, tilted awkwardly to watch the camera a moment. In light of recent events on-station, this has never been more necessary. Sometimes, the act of planning is its own solution.]
Greetings, Sacrosanct.
Describe: the perfect day.
...Detail is preferable, but entirely voluntary.
clu (au)
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Comments 118
[High standards: Ismene has them.]
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Oh, just the one? Is catastrophe [her word; it's clear he doesn't like the taste of it, lips creasing hard and bitter] frequent, then, where you're from?
Ms.--? [Oh yeah, he's fishing.]
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Oh, I'm sorry; I'm Ismene. It's nice to meet you, ah... [See? She can do fishing, too.]
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Ismene. [Returning distant matches in the cultural library, partial file: it's Greek to him.] A pleasure. I'm Clu.
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Rain in the mornin', sun in the afternoon, bench on the boardwalk by the beach durin' the off-season. Scotch an' good company. No one gets shot, no need t'lie to the cops, just time to sit and watch the sunset.
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That's very vivid. Is there something particular you like about sunset?
[That vile star being suppressed beneath the horizon is the best part of every day. But he's curious.]
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Well. Guess 'cause it changes the sky into different colors, yeah? Makes the ocean look like liquid gold, clouds get all pink and purple. Didn't see sunsets like that where I grew up. Hell of a lot prettier, even if it's the city smog makin' it that way.
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Oh! A city-dweller, huh? [The wistful tone is clear. He is thinking of endless streets that burn blue and gold in the darkness.] But you didn't grow up there. Interesting.
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[He pauses and contemplates this for about, oh... two seconds.]
At the risk of going into some long-winded and superfluous detail, my perfect day would involve liquor, lavishes, and lap dances. Not necssarily in that order, either.
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And little umbrellas in the drinks, I'm guessing.
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And well. This might be dangerous to admit, but only one person here knows him on any appreciable level. This is safe enough.]
Warm, sunny day back home, with the company of my best friend. No fighting, no nothin' else. Just me'n him, the whole day.
[I'd like 'Things I've Lost Over the Centuries' for $500 dollars, please.]
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Errrgh, the sun, so many of them seem to value the sun.
But something else in the wording tips him off.
Quietly: ]
Fight with your best friend a lot, huh?
[He knows what that's like. Or he did.]
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Hey, he loved the sun while Cybertron had it. Then the Autobots kind of... teleported it back to whence it came from. Seriously the lamest.
He quirks a brow ridge at that. Or rather, his holoform quirks an eyebrow.]
Not as such. Occasional spats here and there. But there was fightin' with other parties.
[Many other parties. He only ever really got torqued off at Frenzy when the hacker spilled coffee in his glove compartment or did something else unforgivably irritating.]
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Aw, come on. Why read it when you can get the executive gist from someone else? Much more efficient.
The sun? Is a problem. Don't worry, though; he's working on it...Teleporters, you say? Now, that idea's got some merit.]
Gotta do what you've gotta do. [Nod. Look at how well he understands.] Win more than you lose, huh?
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