milliways_bar | (no subject)

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seth clearwater

(no subject)

There's wind and a bit of snow outside as a man in a hideously orange and white scarf throws open the door and stomps in.

Once he's in however, Carl relaxes. There's only so long that a man can be angry. Not to mention he's angry about petty matters anyway. Millie and Danny and their constant heckling about the monkey-the studio-a new script.

Ah, the burdens of being a filmmaker.

So he sits, but not before depositing a stack of bills and some coins on the bar.

"Tips."
The tips vanish.

Carl is a good tipper.
Afterwhich he procures a pad of paper and a pencil, trying his best to write out a story idea he's had for a bit. Hey-he can write. He's just...um...bad at it.

He's trying to write a first person narrative about an astronaut in space orbiting Jupiter with a giant black triangle.
Or square. Something like that.

You can talk to him.

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How about another filmmaker, in a black-and-white scarf, also scribbling at a notepad at a table? Mark's certainly one who could commiserate.

"....Bal? Mal? Dal?" Carl's frowning and poking the pad with his pencil, "Hey! Mark! You're a knowledgable kid. C'mere, I've got a story I wanna run by you."

Commisterate-hey-it works.

Mark sticks his pen behind his ear and goes over. "Hey, Carl. What'cha got there?" He chuckles a bit. "Don't know how knowledgable I really am, but I'll help if I can."

Carl snorts, "I usually rely on Jack for this sorta thing-but I had this idea-" He halfway stands, "Okay, get this."

There's a bit of a change that comes over Carl. This is his "Element"

"Imagine a world in the future okay? Spaceships, Traveling the Galaxy! Enter an astronaut by the name of-um-um-we'll call him Dave okay? On a spaceship with a computer and a sexy female costar. They're investigating giant black triangles-or squares-I can't decide which. Around-Jupiter."

He's smiling at Mark.

Mark grins. "That sounds really cool actually, Carl." His eyes twinkle. "Space stores are awesome on film, actually. They make for some amazing adventure stories." Oh, look. Carl found one of Mark's favourites.

Carl, "Yeah. Bit problem is that writing and I go together like...Fred Austaire and Ginger Rogers."

His eyes narrowed, "Not good bedfellows."

Mark cracks up. "Hey, I know what you mean. The last screenplay that I attempted to write literally went up the chimney. My roommate and I burned it for heat." He smirks, though. "It's an awesome idea, however."

"Burned it for heat?"

Carl stops short, "-Damn-I thought I had problems...but well-you've seen."

"My roommate and I were basically squatters in our building on eleventh and B." Mark shrugs. "And we were -damn- broke. So we burned Roger's band posters, and my old screenplays. Didn't do an awful lot, because the next day, our ex-friend decided to go back on his promise that we could stay for free, and tossed us out on our asses. On Christmas." Mark shrugs. "It really sucked."

Carl lowered his head, "Ow."

He nods slowly, "....yeah. There've been a couple of times when I've been heatless. They evict you?"

"He tried. But we broke down the door and got back in." Mark smirks. He eventually gave up on trying to throw us out. And then I bought the building. So no one can toss us out."

There is a tall man whose vision is partially obscured by an olive green knit cap. He sits on the edge's of Carl's table, unaware, it seems, that his cap is clashing with his dark cobalt blue suit.

"Carl, do you think my nose is hideous?"

Cue Carl blinking.

".....What?"

No Hi, No hello-no-

Carl stands, turning around, "...no-it-well it looks a little bit-no! what the hell?"

He tilts his head. "A little bit what?"

He pushes the cap away from his eyes. He's looking very serious about this.

Carl's flailing!

"Talk about a question out of left Field." Carl sighed, "I mean what do I know from noses? Remember that chorusgirl I was dating before I met Millie? She said your nose looked like a beak-but hey c'mon-who gives a flying fart right?"

Carl's smiling weakly, "What brought this on man? I mean c'mon..."

He pulls the cap off completely, squeezing it in his hands. "Because everyone seems to have jokes about my nose! And I'm tired of it! I didn't chose to have this, you know! I was born with it! It's me! It's part of who I am! And I deserve respect, not mockery!"

If this sounds vaguely like Fredo Corleone in The Godfather Part II, then, well. Jack's about as earnest as he was.

Carl lets this sink in.

"-Jack....Buddy." Carl folds his arms across his chest, "People make jokes. They'll laugh at you. You punch them out and move on."

Carl's a simple man.

"Or discredit them in any way possible-look-what brought this on?"

He frowns.

"Nothing. It's...it's pathetic, really. Nevermind."

Carl pauses.

No way this is going unnoticed.

"Jack. What happened."

Carl's planted himself in Jack's path.

A short yet broad wal.

"I said it was nothing!"

[ ooc: and I must slink away to church. dunno when I'll be back, depends on if mom wants to go out later, but I should be able to squeeze in one tag when I get home if that happens. ]

Carl nodded, "Uh huh."

Like he believes him.

"I've just received...a few unneccessary comments about my nose, is all."

Carl sighed, "Don't let that sorta thing bother you okay?"

Carl hesitates.

"I mean people say stuff about me all the time. but I don't let it get to me. You've just gotta...well-"

He shrugs.
Not that good at helping people.

"Cut my nose off?"

He's heard it could be done.

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