ataraxion | 002 ; video

Entry tags:

002 ; video

[ click! as the video starts recording, revealing: a rather skinny, disheveled fellow sitting in what looks like one of the rec rooms around the ship's hallways. soysauce sits back from where he's leaned forward to start the recording, looking rather haggard and sleep-deprived, his hair mussed up and his tie hanging loose around his neck. he's swaying a bit in his seat as he runs a hand back through his hair -- the empty liquor bottle visible at the edge of the video suggests he miiight just be trashed out of his skull at the moment.

still, at least he sounds half-way coherent as he starts talking. ]

Eh -- hello. Good afternoon. Evening? Either way, I do hope this isn't too much of an interruption. [ a small, polite bow of the head. ] To those I have yet had the pleasure of meeting, please call me Soysauce. Traveling musician and gunman, at your service.

[ a slight, uneasy sway on his seat as he gives the camera a goofy smile. nodding once to himself before continuing. ]

Nothing too important, but ah. Just two -- three! [ holding out two fingers. ] Three things I'd like to say.

First -- I seem to have lost track of, ah. A small model of the hoverbike I used at home. About this big -- [ holding his hands up to shape something roughly the size of a loaf of bread ] -- based off a robust model, fully functional, a little thing made of metal. If anyone happens to see it zipping by, I'd be very grateful to hear some suggestion of where it might have ended up.

Second. [ pause. ] What passes for whiskey here is rather lacking, no?

[ sigh. and then one those deep breaths that suggests he's trying to sober up somewhat. brows slightly furrowed as he speaks a bit more slowly. ]

And third. As ridiculous as this may sound, I'd like to ask if anyone is willing to spend some time as a sparring partner -- or instructor. Close-quarters combat has never been my forte, but given the vast differences between methods of combat here and where I'm from, I've given to thinking this problem may need to be addressed. Not to mention, what I do know, I feel I may have been growing rather rusty with as of late.

I'd be more than willing to compensate for any time with, well. Anything I can offer.

[ pause. he's spending a lot of visible effort trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten anything before giving the camera another sloppy, drunk smile. ]

Ah, thank you for your attention.

[ ooc ; also open to action, if anyone wants to actually bump into his drunken ass lurking in the rec room! the scale miniature of his hoverbike is going to ultimately end up in rickon's hands, but please feel free to have seen it zoom by in the hallways or bump into anyone's ankles! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He struggles to say what he knows he's supposed to say.]

The choices we make are our own. Always our own, and no one else's. And we must always take responsibility for those choices.

But -- I think. Responsibility doesn't mean other people aren't supposed to feel sympathy.

[ oh god it's so difficult getting the words straight past the haze of whiskey. ]

Just because you feel responsible doesn't mean other people should -- should fall in line with that. It doesn't work that way. Things that seem unfortunate will always seem that way, 'responsibility' or not.

[He's silent a moment, then:]

So you think I've chopped off my own arm, then?

Ah?! No -- of course not!

[ pause. ]

Wait -- yes? Is this a trick question?

...Metaphorically.

Oh. Well.

[ another thoughtful hum, along with the soft creak of his chair as he rocks back and forth for a moment. ]

An arm is rather drastic. A few fingers? No, that's not quite enough. -- a hand, perhaps?

[Speaking over him - ]

And what, precisely, is it about me that has made you consider me an idiot prone to self-mutilation?

Huh? I thought we were talking metaphorically. I don't think you'd actually do that. Would you?

Metaphorically.

Right. Metaphorically. Hm.

[ after a moment of thought, struggling to get the words out in the right order: ]

You seem to -- want to sacrifice a lot of things in order to do what you perceive is right. And while I think you have noble intentions, there's no way you can know for sure that what you aim for is the only solution. So -- you say no to a lot of things that could potentially help both you and others without ultimately harming what you want.

[Frowning even more deeply.]

Like, for example, what? Drinking on the network? I don't see how that could possibly help me.

[ a soft 'humph!' at that. ]

For one thing -- I'm not 'drinking on the network!' I've already finished drinking.

And for another. You know that's not what I'm talking about. I mean more of -- whenever you reject any sympathy or pity or -- or offers of friendship. Always trying to be very stiff and refusing to enjoy anything.

[There's a slight pause, then - ]

You think accepting that wouldn't do harm?

Eh? Of course not!

...You're naive, then.

I -- can't say I haven't heard that before. But I must be twice your age, isn't that a little rude?

It's not rude to point out the truth, sir.

[ a heavy pause, before there's a small humph, and the faint sound of soysauce giving a little pout. ]

... well. Perhaps a bit. But that doesn't negate all of what I said.

...You think that those who have made their own choices are pitiable. What about those who, for whatever reason, have made the grave mistake of pursuing friendship with the wrong people?

[ a long moment of utter silence before soysauce answers a lot more quietly, sounding a bit like he's gotten slapped in the face. ]

... you think I'm that problematic a presence?

[Which takes Edgeworth completely by surprise.]

What? No.

[ a small, rather meek noise before he speaks up again, still sounding a little more subdued. ]

I think -- even that is better than to choose to reject all friendships. Pursuing a friendship with someone 'wrong.' Because at least that way, one can influence the other to perhaps change their ways, become a better person. But to reject all possibility of friendships -- accomplishes nothing. You may not lose anything, but you also don't gain anything, and don't help anyone else. Isn't that a risk worth taking?

[And he frowns - ]

You know that associations can get people killed, don't you?

[ sigh. ]

Yes. Yes, I do.

[ have the faint sounds of him trying to get the last few dregs of whiskey out of his bottle, because gosh this conversation's turned dreary. ]

I've never suggested that you call everyone you speak to a friend, Mister Edgeworth. Personally, I do. But -- your words also seem a little harsh. To reject all friendship seems a bit like -- like refusing anyone who offers you a cactus flower, because one might still have a spine in it. The risk isn't always present, and can sometimes even be fixed. And to reject all the nice things for fear out of this risk just seems --

[ and then he runs out of words after that, just making a soft, frustrated noise. ]

[A pause, and then, quietly:]

I'm not talking about a risk to me.

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