damned_institute | Day 42: Twin Pines

[Free, and in the best mood he's been in all day. Just don't touch the coffee pot.]

Unfortunately for the filly, Q&A time ended as soon as the bus stopped; Godot had better places to be, and much more pleasant women to meet. Specifically, the ladies who worked at Twin Pines restaurant. The waitresses were to be thought of as no less than angels of mercy for what they did; they were fabled bearers of the gods' own ambrosia, delivering salvation to a mortal too long deprived of the pleasant bitterness.

Just as soon as Godot got directions from his nurse.

He had enough dignity and pride not to break out into a run once he was oriented. A man may have been free to indulge in a vice or two, but only so long as he wouldn't grovel for them. One of Godot's rules. Still, the prosecutor set a brisk pace to the place, inspired both by the promise of what was to come, and by the cold he hated. All the more reason to get there in haste.

And so he did, Godot finding himself almost alone in the cozy cafe. His waitress earned a smile as she showed him to his seat, and asked the question he'd been waiting far too long to hear: What may I get you to drink?. For that there was only one answer, and Godot could hardly contain delight that amounted to giddiness as he gave it. He could already smell the fragrant aroma as the blend brewed, fresh, hot, and perfect.

The waitress was kind enough to leave the pot on Godot's request, though the cold milk she'd brought along wasn't necessary. It was the first cup of black bitter magic he'd had in days, and Godot refused to taint the darkness he'd so anticipated. His first sip was hot, acerbic, and perfect.

It was as if he'd died for a second time, and dreamed of Heaven.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[unless it's a fellow fan?]

Almost immediately after they arrived, Sanae said goodbye to Skuld and began the real fun of the day: exploring. He strolled leisurely through the streets (which screamed, "America!"), soaking in the atmosphere and what he could of Doyleton's vibe. In the end, it was as he'd expected: hardly Shibuya, strictly small town.

As he passed by one of the storefronts, Sanae by chance saw a familiar kindred soul sitting down with a pot of...huh. He stopped dead. Coffee was the object of his nighttime searches, and yet there it was now, just one coupon away. Almost ridiculously easy. Yes, on second thought, exploring could wait until after he'd had a cup.

The barista entered the cafe and took advantage of the hostess looking the other way to slide over into the seat across from Godot. "Hope you don't mind." He gestured toward the coffee pot. "Almost too easy, huh?"

[Only because he likes you.]

"Not at all." Now easily in the best mood he'd experienced since his arrival, Godot relaxed in his chair as Mr. H settled in. Perhaps the only thing better than having the pot to himself would be sharing it with a fellow lover of such brews. Particularly since the waitress had mentioned unlimited refills.

Godot almost felt sorry for her, in a way. Clearly, the woman had no idea what force she'd unleashed.

"Perhaps, but I won't complain about it." Or stop drinking the coffee. Though he had more reason than most to be concerned about something extra in the cup, there were worse ways to go out. "You should get a cup while you can, amigo. I don't intend to let the contents cool for long."

Sanae snagged the other mug and poured himself a cup in one fluid motion. "Yeah, I don't think I'll let the opportunity pass me by." He took a sip and let the coffee slide smoothly across his tongue. Yup, good beans. He smiled and waved at the waitress who seemed somewhat stunned by his appearance.

Sanae settled back in his seat, looking like an incredibly satisfied cat. "So, Godot-san, how's life?" It was the Joshua Question, the one that he'd usually used to start off their chats in his cafe. Always reliable - came with a fifty percent chance of the conversation segueing into one about death as well, oddly enough.

Of course, this was with Joshua.

Godot let a smirk cross his face when the lady showed her surprise; so the townspeople weren't quite on the same level as the staff had promised to be during the field trip. That little bit of information was tucked away in Godot's mind, a tidbit that might prove useful later. But a good lawyer didn't play his hand until the perfect moment, so any thoughts he might have formed were left on the back burner in favor for refilling his cup.

"Ha! As miserable as you'd expect it to be in a cage full of rats." Really, had anything good outside of this single carafe happened? Was it even possible? Godot found it unlikely, never quite having reached the same level of foolish optimism as some others who stood behind a bench. "The ones from my home are enough to make a man's stomach turn with the things they chatter."

Godot considered the man across from him then, taking a long drink to mask the silence. He and Mr. H had bonded over a mutual love of the brew, but how close did the prosecutor want to become to a virtual stranger? Still, in this god-forsaken town, perhaps he couldn't be so picky. There was enough stress with what the Institute gave, and what it took away. Having a confidant might not be such a terrible thing.

And Mr. H did have good taste.

"There have been new arrivals from my world. One in particular is dangerous: a wicked wolf that could pass for an innocent lamb. Her hair is red, and she can fool nearly any man with a sweetness that candymakers only dream of achieving. Her name is Dahlia Hawthorne, and whatever you do, amigo? Don't dare to trust her."

Sanae laughed. "Sucks. I gotta say, I've never met anyone from your world, so all I can do is offer my sincere condolences. Times like this...man's gotta find himself a new planet, you know?" Or a new dimension, in his case- although it was always just a temporary stay. Eventually, even he would get homesick for the real Shibuya.

"And I'll keep what you said in mind if I ever cross paths with this Dahlia character." Maybe he would take care to "accidentally" do just that: she'd piqued his curiosity - which had killed the cat before, but not this one--yet. Naturally he'd have to take more care since most of his powers were muted.

"Got a similar warning for you, actually," Sanae said after taking another sip. "New arrival from my world named Sho Minamimoto: bad business unless you watch your step around him. He's a loose cannon - a smart, loose cannon - and he makes it pretty clear right away. Makes a scene everywhere, loves number crunching...basically, if you're gonna deal with him, just make sure you've got, uh, contingency plans."

Minamimoto was technically an "ally", but their chat yesterday had confirmed that that status was seriously on the rocks. Really, it couldn't hurt to tell Godot about him, although the rogue Reaper tended to put people off from the start. Probably because of the math obsession - zetta ridiculous.

There was really not enough food in the little paper bag for someone of his stature. Especially not when he'd spent most of the bus ride inwardly seething over the shirt he'd been forced to wear. Once he got off the bus, he flipped through the book of coupons. Surely there had to be something interesting to do in this town. It really was a tiny place, much smaller than he was used to.

1 free meal at Twin Pines. Huh, that looked promising. Maybe he could get a breakfast instead of a lunch? And then there were burgers or something later on. Mind made up, he headed over in the direction of the restaurant.

Once there, he stepped inside a little warily, going to find a table where he could see as much as possible. The smell of coffee was in the air and it reminded him of how long it had been since he'd had any. Well, he knew what he was drinking then.

[Free!]

[from here]

The place was pretty dead, but the coffee smelled fresh. For the first time, the genetic toxic cocktail they'd laced his head with seemed like an evolutionary advantage. S.T. sniffed a few times, and then followed the instructions on the seat-yourself sign..

He slid into a booth kitty-corner from a table where a fellow loner had staked out a space and was looking antisocial or dyspeptic or both. He picked up the laminated menu by rote, and then tucked it back away without looking.

Just coffee, chemical jumpstart to the neurons. And a non-existent newspaper, with which he could pretend for five minutes he was just stopping by to ward off highway hypnosis rather than relegated to obscurity and the confines of his increasingly useless brain.

Day 42: Twin Pines

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