Cecil Gershwin Palmer (
holdingacat) wrote in
milliways_bar2018-09-02 01:26 pm
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(OOM canon: In which a strange new ad campaign appears in town, but don't worry, the dog is okay)
(OOM: In which Cecil has an opportunity to enact a plan)
Cecil enters, looking worn and weary. When he slumps at the bar, Bar presents him with a mug of coffee, just the way he likes it.
Cecil ignores it for the moment (though the gesture is appreciated), instead, lowering his head to gently bash it against the polished wood. Over and over, because... How. Is. He. So. Bad. At. This??
(OOC: Replies may be slow, but I've missed Cecil, so. :) Have a too-sappy-for-his-own-good radio host)
(OOM: In which Cecil has an opportunity to enact a plan)
Cecil enters, looking worn and weary. When he slumps at the bar, Bar presents him with a mug of coffee, just the way he likes it.
Cecil ignores it for the moment (though the gesture is appreciated), instead, lowering his head to gently bash it against the polished wood. Over and over, because... How. Is. He. So. Bad. At. This??
(OOC: Replies may be slow, but I've missed Cecil, so. :) Have a too-sappy-for-his-own-good radio host)

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The Night Lord moves down the bar to the strangely dressed man, a questioning look on his face.
"Are you alright?"
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Context is also, evidently, not a thing happening today.
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The relationship terms go right over his head. Of course.
So he does the only thing he knows to do.
"Would you... like a drink?"
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"Tempting, but I don't want to risk re-education if I forget the latest forbidden knowledge edict from City Council. Thank you, though."
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Re-education, he's pretty sure, means the same thing in the 42nd Millennium as most other universes. Same with forbidden knowledge.
"What makes you fear a city council so much?"
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"I'm sorry, I must have banged my head harder than I thought. Fear? I.. don't?" Much, anyway, but everyone should be a little fearful of their government officials.
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"No, you definitely fear them. I'm an expert in terror tactics, I know what scared mortals look like. And you didn't hit yourself that hard."
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He floats over to the bar, concerned.
[Cecil?] He types out. [Are you alright?]
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Reluctantly he slouches up.
"Hi, Dr. Gaster. I'm... an idiot." Thump, goes his head on the wood.
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He's guessing it involves that scientist Cecil was clearly infatuated with, but he won't jump to conclusions.
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[That doesn't mean that he doesn't like you. ] Although Gaster is probably not the best person to be giving relationship advice.
[Why did he come in?]
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"Are you okay, mate? I'm afraid you might spill your coffee, not to mention your brains."
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"Ugh." He says, emphatically, and slouches up a bit, refusing to have anything to do with something so energy-expending as posture. "For the coffee then. Because my brains are stupid, and entirely useless."
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He gets it, though. Brains are rough.
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Also, sudden subject change says what?
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'Tis long. Forgive me.
Not a problem, that high-pitched sound is Cecil squeeing
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Thump.
Squish.
...
Cecil, startled, sits up a bit to investigate this sudden texture change.
Oh. Oh.
"Hi, Sinric." His attempt at casual nonchalance works about as well as it did earlier today, failing in the face of a dull blush.
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"It wasn't... bad? But... he didn't come for personal reasons. But he said he was worried, about me!" He'd been so happy, that'd been the sweetest thing ever. "Except when he said 'I'm worried about you' he meant 'you' as in 'All of Night Vale' and that changes the meaning. A bit. Ugh."
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