There is literally no one I don't hate right now.

[notplaying]

Toby was in the council office. He had the door propped open with stack of his least favorite books, and numerous stacks of paper neatly set out in equal intervals around the table with chairs in front of each. He was at what he counted as being the fifth one. The order was: Council Parameters, Grievances of Property, Grievances of Person,

Comments

[madam_prez]

Of all the different sites of interest on the island, the Council office intrigued Laura the most. She'd stopped by once before, but whoever was on duty seemed to have stepped out.

She was pleased to see Mr. Ziegler there when she made a return visit, and watched him bounce the ball for a moment, smiling, before knocking lightly on the open door.

[Hope the lateness is OK - I've finally got a free moment and really wanted to tag.]

[notplaying]

[Yay Roslin!]

Toby glanced up as he caught the ball, and nodded to her.

"Madam President," he said, because once someone had been the President that was what you called them.

[madam_prez]

"Looks like you're hard at work," Laura commented, nodding at the ball. "Don't let me interrupt."

[notplaying]

"Door's open," Toby pointed out, then gestured toward the numerous empty chairs, and bounced his ball off the wall again.

"How have you been?"

[goingtothelordy]

As many pleasent and wonderful features as the island seemed to possess, Charles was still dreadfully illinformed in the subject of something that was incredibly important to him, and to the voice in his head, surely the Lord of course, that was driving him. He'd been on the island for a fair time now, and still only knew so much about how it's government opperated. That simply wouldn't do of course, especially when he needed to discover what it would take to become an inmortant and respected political figurehead.

He poked his head in the door of what he'd determined the Council office and eyed the working man with interest for several moments, before daintily clearing his throat. "Excuse me, dear sir, but this is the Council office, yes?" He paused a moment and then continued on, "And if so, then I would assume that you are a Council member then, am I correct?"

[notplaying]

Toby looked up and felt a twinge of unease. He got along middling well with people who spoke like that. They frequently didn't get his sense of humor which he had assured CJ many times did in fact exist.

"I am a council member. Toby Ziegler. Good to meet you, Mr...?"

[goingtothelordy]

"Guiteau," he announced importantly as he entered the room in full and swept into a slight bow, before moving to shake the Councilman's hand. "Charles J. Guiteau, you may have heard of me, I'm quite famous you know." Truthfully of most the Assassins Charles was of the least recognized, which was ridiculous when the fact he was the second American Presidential assassin was taken into consideration. Truly a terrible shame.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Ziegler. You see, I've only been here a short time, and I'm trying to...familiarise myself with the local government. If you aren't too busy, would you mind entertaining a few questions of mine?"

[notplaying]

Toby stared at the man for a long moment. He was talking to the insane man who had assassinated President Garfield. He curbed the instinct to yell for Ginger, because she wouldn't be there, but did crane his neck to check the entrances and exits to the room. Then he looked back at him.

"Mr. Guiteau," he greeted, clearing his throat, "I would, ah- I'm in the middle of- well- no," he settled on, glaring at the Bill of Rights out of the corner of his eyes, "of course. Please sit."

[sir_samuel]

Ziegler looked busy. Well, Ziegler always managed to look busy, even on a damned tropical island when there was nothing to do, but that was a temperament that Vimes could understand. Still, he looked even more busy than usual.

He wandered in with his usual cup of coffee and whistled low at the stacks of papers. "How you keep up at that, I don't know," he observed. "I swear I can only read the stuff for ten minutes at a time before I feel like I'm going mad."

[notplaying]

"Charles J. Guiteau walked in here not an hour ago," Toby said by way of greeting, setting the ball down and leaning forward, looking hard at Vimes.

"Charles J. goddamn Guiteau. You don't know him. He's from Earth. A while ago, not my time, before my time. I know him, though," Toby continued on, voice slowly rising in volume, " because he assassinated the president in broad daylight and was hung for it. Answer me this: Is my telling yout his information about Charles J. Guiteau who was hung for assassinating the president of the united states in broad daylight illegal as according to the Tabula Rasa Bill of Rights?"

[sir_samuel]

Vimes blinked.

"Well," he answered slowly, "back home if there wasn't a legal assassination attempt on me at least once a week, I'd figure I was doing something wrong. S'what passes for government in Ankh-Morpork."

He frowned. "But I'd say no, technically. So long as the government, such as it is, isn't holdin' it against him-" he waved a hand vaguely. "Technically technically, so long as you're personally not holding it against him, actually. But until I learn how to read minds I'll be ignoring that part." He collapsed into the chair. "Take it you've had better days?"

[notplaying]

"A tried and convicted assassin stopped by for a chat about how he, too, can become involved in his local government. I don't know if I mentioned that the last time he decided to become involved in his local government he ASSASSINATED SOMEBODY?" he yelled, and threw the ball at the wall where it bounced off and ricocheted around for a bit.

Toby sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"It's an okay day."

[playingstupid]

Josh heard the familiar thumping of rubber against wall, and he wandered down the hallway, a smirk on his face. He turned the corner to a familiar, comforting sight. He leaned in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. "Please tell me it's not the State of the Union. 'Cause I haven't done shit." He smirked, an eyebrow cocked fondly.

[notplaying]

Toby almost threw the ball at Josh.

"Come write laws, laywers," he said.

[playingstupid]

Josh groaned. "You've gotta be kidding me." He sighed and looked at the chairs, each covered with paper. He shuffled forward and leaned the palm of his hands on the table, surveying the mess. "So. Laws."

[notplaying]

"You know," Toby said, "those things that say what you can and can't do."