Friendship is Magic

Mr.Face:

And we were onto a slightly different but all together more comfortable subject. "Generally, yes...though I am not one to really care about the person in question. Some are slightly more interesting to kill than others, and some are wickedly annoying." I explained briefly.

Cricket

"I 'adn't actually meant it as a question but more as a statement. But if you feel th' need t' run away from the original question, so be it, I suppose." I leaned back in my chair absentmindedly, thinking. "So, ah ... you've a'ready partially explained what makes it interesting, aye?"

Mr.Face:

"Yes. Partially, you could say. I could expound I suppouse, though I realise that not disturbing potential friend candidates is an important part to this whole thing. At least... that is what I have deduced. And really, you may want to keep all four feet of your chair on the ground lest you find yourself making harsh and abrupt contact with the floor." I heard him lean back on it and didn't really want to have to put up with someone putting dents in my floor with the force of the chair. Additionally... Hadn't I already mentioned once that sitting properly was kind of...important to one's health or something to that effect?

Cricket

"T' be honest, part o' me's curious. Not t' th' extent I'd ever want t' experience anything of th' like myself, but see . . . Understanding from afar is completely different, y'know, for curiousity's sake." And what was this about four deet on th-- ah. I'd forgotten I wasn't supposed to do that. "If I make abrupt and 'arsh contact with th' floor I give you th' right t' say 'I told you so'. Until then!" I continued leaning.

Mr.Face:

I found his curiosity interesting. I have never actually encountered any reason to explain or outline all this stuff... and here he was just sitting at dinner and asking questions. "You already know about my love of the acoustics... the acoustics make it wonderful... human suffering really lights up a room. Some of the people there and their reactions to their imminent demise also contribute to the entertainment value. And I suppouse that the third aspect to that involves the art of it. Because... really. It takes a substansial amount of work and thought to come up with the things I do. And hearing how that all pans out... hearing the execution of it... it's very...nice. There's a whole myriad of other little things about it... the whole... fulfilling aspect of it I suppouse, but... that is the gist of it." I explained.

Cricket

"Huh." Making fun and art and work out of human suffering . . . that was monstrous. But I already knew that. It wasn't the question at stake here, whether or not it was good, because the question was why it would ever come to that, what was so good about it to him. "Well see . . . some average people write music, or plant a garden or raise a family t' feel fulfilled, y'know . . . but you're not quite th' average person, are you now?"

Mr.Face:

"I have written music, though my motivations for such things vary wildly from other people's, I assume. And to answer your question, I do not consider myself the average person, no." I answered his question literally, though It had sounded somewhat rhetorical or as though it were a thought spoken aloud to me. I went ahead and had another sip of Pellegrino as we spoke, careful to keep my teeth from clanking too loudly on the glass.

Cricket

"What's average, any'ow?" I heard something clinking quietly against glass again. Teeth? . . . That reminded me. I still had tea. I let myself drop back onto four chair legs and reached for where I'd last set the cup. This time, I didn't have to search the dark. "I mean, for example, compared t' you and in my own mind, I could classify as normal. Though t' some others, I don't fit th' description at all. It's a stupid word when you get down to it." I took a sip.

Mr.Face:

...I was somewhat shocked to hear such philosophical conversation come from him. "You are completely correct. Normal and average are both extremely subjective terms...and probably best eradicated, however I find that people often tend to cling desperately to those words, for unknown reasons. It's downright bizarre. Additionally, In case this is of any consequence for you, Aside from your speech pattern and lack of shoes, you classify just fine in my mind as standard."

I was also quite pleased to notice that he was no longer tempting gravity, but decided not to comment on the choice.

Cricket

"Thanks ... I think." Despite speech pattern and lack of shoes. "Waitpardon, lack of shoes isn't normal? As for th' speech pattern, from my perspective you sound funny, so... I can't quite return th' statement that you seem normal. But aye, that proves th' s'ubjective."

Mr.Face:

"Lack of shoes is highly unusual in Auda, actually. Considering the state of the streets, from what I understand. Apparently the roads here can be quite... unforgiving to feet. It's actually a fantastic incentive to work here. Get a job; receive complimentary combat boots." I explained the shoes thing thing briefly. As for my own shoes... Well, they were Armani. Naturally.

"And honestly, if you had returned the statement regarding normalcy, I would have inquired as to what kind of people you're accustomed to being around wherever you come from, and how I can meet them...Because that would at least be tolerable...I imagine."

Cricket

"Aye, well . . . it's not as if I don't get bloody feet every once in an unfortunate while, but honestly. 'ow am I supposed t' swim in shoes? Not that there's much swimming 'ere, but where I'm from. They're an odd thing, shoes. Though I wouldn't quite suggest trying t' meet anyone from Luna, if I were you. I'd imagine you wouldn't be liked any more than you would be 'ere. Outlanders, Freaks, th' like, is what you'd be. Now that I think about it, we'd probably be lumped int' th' same sort o' offset social catagory, though you might be a bit deeper into it than I."

Mr.Face:

That was odd. Hearing that he and I would be lumped into the same ridiculous ring of outcasts. "Why? What's wrong with you? ...I mean, you appear to be generally anatomically correct and whatnot... why stigmatize?" I asked, and then realised that I may have been horribly insensitive. "Apologies if that was ridiculously blunt. Not my intention. I just...fail to see what would induce the critical acceptance failure. ...And on a somewhat unrelated note- Shoes are fantastic. Really. Admittedly, remembering which match with each other is ridiculously difficult...but...it's worth it." Though... again. Most of my shoes cost more than owning a house in Auda. Two houses. I didn't know off the top of my head, as that set of mathematics didn't really matter to me.

Cricket

"Ah, aye. Forgot who I was talking to there, for a moment. You don't quite know much about Luna, aye? See, when it comes t' me, I, ah . . . well, as a matter o' fact, th' difference between me and them you can't quite see. Long story short, my 'air's quite a bit darker than th' average, my eyes per'aps a bit strange for their taste. Apparently, I don't belong there. They don't like it." I finally got around to that matter-of-fact explanation: they didn't like it.

Mr.Face:

...Colour. Colour was the difference? ...That didn't make any sense at all. "So what... are you like...ginger or something? Not that I really care whether you have a soul or not, just... interesting to know." That was actually the only hair colour I knew...simply through all I'd ever learned of religion, and from what one hears while eavesdropping on employees. "And for the record...I really don't understand why colour matters. Though, perhaps that is something best left to those who can properly conceptualise it."

Cricket

"Nah, see, we don't 'ave th' same thing against gingers you people do 'ere. Mine's just about as black as this room." Then I had to wonder if he even knew what that meant. "Do blind people see in black or white, any'ow? Always wondered that. Though you probably won't be able t' answer that for me any'ow. Any'ow, color ... It matters t' some more than others."

Mr.Face:

The colour discussion was actually fascinating. "I actually have no idea what you mean by black or white... My interpretation of colours is completely...acoustic. So... I could probably give you a picture of what colours the room sounds like to me, but it probably wouldn't make any sense in the conventional use of the word. And what is the problem with black hair? I mean... It's not genetically unusual, from what I understand..."

Cricket

"I 'aven't seen another with black 'air in Luna in a good long while. Granted, they're still there, but you don't see it much, see."

Give me a picture of what color sounds like, aye? That had to be interesting. I glanced around again for the OS. "What's th' room sound like, then?"

Mr.Face:

"It's probably easier to just draw it, because telling you that the chair you're sitting in is yellow thirty seven probably means little to you." I explained briefly. "So...if you're done, we could actually go back to my office and I can just draw it for you. I warn you that my perspective and depth perception appear to be really...horrifying on paper, but that shouldn't effect the general idea of it all."

...I was drawing rooms for My Pris---CRICKET. That is his name and I should think of him as such. No matter how often he is my prisoner. Anyway...this was very strange.

Cricket

Oi my my. I didn't know how much I actually appreciated the darkness and simplicity of the room we were in at the moment until he mentioned going back to his office, which . . . well, aye, it was lit and more non-blind-friendly, but it was lit and Mr.Face-ish. And I'd only just figured out my way around the silverware and teapot.

But on the other hand, Mr. Face drawing. If it was the actual pen-to-paper type that I called drawing and not an odd other sort not in my vocabulary, that I had to see.

Oi my my. This was odd. The questions, the answers, the whole situation entirely, as a matter of fact. I wasn't accidentally-or-on-purpose prodding him on with subjects he didn't like, and he wasn't yelling at me for it. Alright. You don't see that every day.

What in Hell, honestly, has the world gone mad? Why were we suddenly getting along? Or, whatever this was. Not quite friendly, not quite enemy. A somewhat curiously casual conversation with a past-time enemy that may or may not blow up in everybody's face. I wasn't about to let him cross the line into friendship, but for the sake of curiousity . . . acquantences. For now. If I could stretch this out there might not be any Cellblock scenes with me or my friends for quite a while, and that I could live with. For the sake of friends and curiousity. Aye.

"I'm ready when you are, actually," I said simply.

Mr.Face:

"Excellent. Follow along then... We'll be taking a different route back to the office." I stated, and rose. I wasn't concerned about dishes because those were not my responsibility or my problem.

We walked for a good ten minutes or so through the labyrinthine amalgamation of hallways until my office popped back up again, the door to which I simply threw open. My door knob tested my finger prints and a panel in the wall was making sure I looked like myself, which allowed me entrance to the place.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out a set of coloured pencils with small braille tags that I'd sat and fastidiously labelled them with one day. Along with that I had paper...and a ruler, of course. I felt along the sides of the pencils for the appropriate orange --I'd set the labels to correspond with the acoustic colour system I'd set up on the OS, and the OS had colour matched them with one of the video software programmes I was running --and started with the ruler... the edge of the table would be...there. Right.

This whole process involved a lot of feeling of the pencils and the paper, and sitting there listening to what appeared to be nothing.

Cricket

I cut off a laugh when he brought out the colored pencils. Only for the fact that I'd always pictured the colorful drawing type things as something for kids, even more so after seeing the expression Marley got when she was around them. Honestly, I wasn't sure whether to let myself laugh at all due to the fact that the image could be thought of as a bit distrubing. Though, he was very proffessional about it with the ruler and all. I'd never quite seen colors and shapes as mathmatical.

Mr.Face:

I continued work on the thing despite what may have been the beginning of a laugh coming from my house guest. I suppoused that it had something to do with the pencils. I ignored it completely, focusing on the mental image I was upholding to figure out what colours all the things were.

Green six. I needed ...where was... aha. And then blue...

After quite a bit of drawing and colouring in of things and serious thought as to whether I ought to make Cricket's hair the colour it was or the colour it sounded, I finally had come up with something that was a reasonable facsimile of what colours I "saw" in.

"Alright. This is reasonably close." I stated, and spun it around on my desk so that it would be facing him.

Cricket

This time, I did laugh. Only a small bit, but I did. "Oi my my, colorful. My 'air's purple?" I leaned on his desk to take a closer look, but then that got me closer to Mr. Face. I snatched it away and held it in both hands, pacing a small ways away. "Though I 'ave t' say, I probably couldn't do better myself. I 'eld a pencil thing . . . once. Th' smaller more colorful type, th'-- crayons, aye, I've 'eld a crayon."

Mr.Face:

"Well, I realise that you'd mentioned that it was black, but acoustically, it is purple, so... I decided to stick with that. Can I inquire as to how far off everything is?" I asked, and then I realised how ridiculous that question was. "Nevermind, you cannot see that room. Stupid question." I figured that the laughter was as a result of things being no quite right, but considering that he'd admitted to not being able to do better himself, I allowed it to slide. It hadn't seemed malicious, so... fine, let him be amused.

"Crayons are preposterous inventions. For people with tiny hands. I found them exceedingly irritating in school."...Though, I found most things exceedingly irritating in school...so... whatever that all meant.