milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Courfeyrac is lounging in an armchair by the fire, his legs dangling carelessly over one arm. There's a book open on his chest, something about existentialism - but he's not reading a word. He's rather more concentrated on a bottle of wine, and watching patrons go back and forth. He hasn't spent enough time doing that since he's been here, what with one thing and another - but he reasons that no one can object to him sitting around all he likes, what with the dearth of other things to do.

[tiny!tag: Joly]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Good evening!'

Courfeyrac is an exuberant chap for the vast majority of the time, and company is always preferable to none.

'Please monsieur, tell me that nod is there to save me from myself. I would prefer not to have to amuse myself with a book.'

He folds his paper and smiles at Courfeyrac, his accent is hard to place but almost something from Europe,

"Good evening and yes, it was. I know that look of boredom."

'Perhaps I should not sell these authors short without first perusing their work.'

He picks up the book. Existentialism: Dostoevsky to Sartre.

And tosses it down.

'Ah, no. I am sure it is very good. But sometimes, a man doesn't want to read.'

He pushes a spare glass towards the stranger.

'Do you have a name, monsieur? I am Courfeyrac, lately of Paris.'

"That's a serious title. Are you a philosopher? Alfred, last in Quirm,"

He leans forward to pour a glass as he sets his paper down. The headline blares: Quirm Guards Get Him!

He laughs heartily at that.

'No! Good Lord, no. I would pale in comparison to any great mind, including those of my acquaintance.'

He is all right with that. And his eyes fall on to the paper; the headline causes a flicker of surprise, then amusement.

'I have not heard of, ah, Quirm. But it looks an interesting place.'

"Its lovely, they have a wonderful floral clock. I was there to do some business. Do you know that many great minds?"

Moist hasn't seen that many around but perhaps this man travels in more intelligent circles.

'Great people,' he says, his eyes shifting to the side.

'Great men.'

He is less concerned with minds than ideals, and action, and hearts.

'You are businessman, Alfred?'

"Yes, I work in finance and don't know that many great men,"

There are men who consider themselves great but usually aren't, those are some of the easiest to take advantage of.

'A banker? A very pillar of society! You do not look the part at all, monsieur.'

Hos disappointing. Not a walrus moustache in sight.

"I've been traveling and I didn't want to get my best suit dirty. What do I need to look more the part?"

'Around fifty more years, a great deal more weight and far more impressive facial hair.'

So, not much?

"Ah, but then I'm not a bank owner just a clerk. I'd need more money before I started thinking about that sort of facial hair."

'Indeed! Such things are very expensive, I'm sure. All that wax, and all the time spent primping it. Still, it is absolutely the thing if one wants to get ahead in finance. I have an uncle who's entire fortune rests on the size of his Van Dyke whiskers.'

True story.

Perhaps.

"Yes, you need to be able to preen it and care for it as a fine pet before anyone will even look at you twice."

'It must be very tiresome. Luckily, I am spared the possibility of ever needing to bother, thanks to the timely arrival of my death.'

He seems quite cheerful enough about it, indeed.

"Most things that end up being profitable are tiresome. A timely death, how fortunate for you."

'Yes, certainly. Profit leads to despotism, after all.'

It is inevitable. Night follows day.

He nods, and drains his glass of wine.

'Indeed - but thanks to magic and this tavern, it hardly seems any different from life.'

"It does? I thought unaccountable power led to despotism?"

Uberwald has never been a rich place but its full of despots.

'And - at least where I come from - such power cannot be obtained without money.'

And the desire for both, he supposes, but it is all the same when the final result is achieved.

'And where do you come from, citizen? If Quirm is on Earth, I have not heard of it.'

"Its not on Earth, its on the Disc. You can be born into such power if you have the right sort of blood. Money always helps but with the right name or attributes, its not as important,"

Technically Moist could fit into that, his family were country gentry and his grandfather's Lipwigzers gave him connections to the powerful.

'The Disc.'

He thinks deeply for a moment, then shakes his head.

'I cannot say I know of this place, but then, I do not know much of what goes on here yet. And yes, being born into power is usually the problem, you see.'

"Not many people do, it rests on the backs of four elephants who stand atop a great turtle that travels through space. Its not a problem with an easy solution or at least one that doesn't require a lot of bloodshed."

Bloodshed. Yes. He laughs quietly, and refills his glass.

'A world which rests on the backs of four elephants? A turtle in space? I...citizen, if there is a correct way to respond to that, I do not know what it is.'

"I don't know if there is one, but your response is the norm here."

'Then I am in grand company!'

He makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, grins, and makes sure not to spill any by taking a big gulp.

'Unenlightened company, to be sure, but still amongst friends. Tell me what it is like?'