Friendship is Magic

Cricket

Well. If he was done with his little tour, I'd rather get out of the small room of sharp shiny things. I sauntered torward the office where I'd come from, eyeing the exacto knives as I walked past. "Now when 'ave I ever been offended by words strung t'gether in too inconcise a fashion for my taste, ever?"

Mr.Face:

"Perhaps it wouldn't have bothered you... But it would have bothered me. Knowing that such an...abomination of the language could get out of my mouth. It would have just been... unacceptable." I stated as I followed him out of the room and closing the door behind me.

Cricket

"Less of an abomination and more of a more-or-less more accurate freeflow o' representation o' truth, but . . . suit yourself," I said, for once glad to be back in a room that happened to be more lit. I found a nice space of wall to lean against and did so, putting some more distance between me and him for a while.

Mr.Face:

"The other statement was not inherently false, just perhaps faltering slightly regarding accuracy." I replied, sitting back down at my own desk.

I paused for a moment. He had eyes. "Not to make a ridiculously obvious statement...but, you have eyes." I stated, noting that it was in fact, a ridiculously obvious statement. It occurred to me that that fact was immensely useful. ...I could now ascertain which suit coats were salvageable by intense dry cleaning and which I would have to have incinerated and replaced.

Cricket

Now where had I heard that one before. "Aw, really? Since when? . . . Oi my my you're right. This is fantastic! I never noticed before, friend, thanks for enlightening me."

Mr.Face:

I had to grin at the liberal amounts of sarcasm in play there. "It is fantastic. You can tell me if my suit is at all salvageable. I've just gone about routinely replacing every third suit in my closet after two weeks of use for the past several decades...occasionally sending them straight to the incinerator if I've accidentally created projectile gore and walk up here soaking wet." I explained briefly.

Cricket

"I 'ave eyes, but unfortunately they don't come with convenient knowledge of 'ow much is too much t' wash out o' clothes, see . . . I find it ironic that you're more worried about your clothes than I am, and you can't even see them. But if you must know." I took a quick glance at the front of his shirt, trying not to think about where the stains came from. It's as if he were trying to remind me. Or perhaps it was just my brain connecting the dots of thought and memory as it did with Riddle. "There's some spatter, aye."

Mr.Face:

"Because that is specific." I stated. "Additionally... I probably paid more for my right shoe than you did your entire wardrobe. Thus...I would say that it was apropos that I care more than you about my wardrobe. " I added after a moment.

"Essentially, I am asking if it's too much to have effectively removed or if I just have to get rid of it." I expounded. It occurred to me that most people do not think about things like that, which was why I expounded at all.

Cricket

"No, I mean th' fact that you care about what you can't see at all, and th' fact that you would spend so much more for something you can't see than someone who can would. I simply find it ironic, is all. As for th' question about 'if it's too much' . . . mate, I 'ave no clue. There's blood, that's all I know. If it were my own clothes, that would be th' end of th' story: there's blood. Ah well."

Mr.Face:

"Ah, That irony." I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how exactly to word this all. My attire was... It was entirely part of...I wasn't actually sure where the idea that one should be well dressed came from, though I distinctly recalled that the entire thing was pertinent from a very early age. Perhaps another reaffirmation of my superiority? "It's the underlying concept of the thing, really... a reassertion of an obvious and immovable truth. I. Am. Above. All. Of. Them. Additionally, a well tailored suit is extraordinarily comfortable." I explained, steepling my fingers and tilting my head to give the impression that I was contemplating the fingers.

Cricket

It was interesting how backwards things about him seemed to be. If anyone wore a suit in the Lowlands in prime condition, they'd be a laughing stalk rather than above anyone.

"So's what I've got on, th' difference being that I got it for free. But oi my my, I 'ave t' say . . . you also do clothes different. You do most everything different from what I'm used to, but per'aps that's because I'm used to a lack of dictatorship and written law alt'gether. Power t' th' lowlife crooks and cheaters, in my world. Well, 'alf of it, technically, but th' real world is th' 'alf I'm in. Mainlanders don't know a thing."

Mr.Face:

"One day...and not today because taxes were filed three weeks ago-- Remind me to have you fitted for a suit; You really need to experience the amount of comfort afforded to you by a well tailored suit. Honestly." ...I'd just offered to spend money on him. Indirectly...but still, the offer was there.

That realisation struck me hard enough that any other response to his statements was completely forgotten and allowed that statement to hang awkwardly in the air.

Me. Spend money. On another individual. What is this.

Cricket

I waited for him to continue with some statement about blood stains or the like, but the silence only lingered. Had he just offered to buy me a suit? I think so. I'd never worn anything like that in my life. That might be interesting, though I couldn't see myself ever actually wearing it--

Waitpardonwhat. Mr. Face had just offered to buy me a suit. That's a bit of a step up from a dinner invitation. "I, ah . . . thanks," I mumbled, and ran a hand through my hair. What else was there to say to that? There was another pause. "I might not waste your money, though, I mean, me in a suit. That's a joke in and of itself."

Mr.Face:

"It's not a waste if it proves a point. I go through them on a biweekly basis sometimes. What's another fifteen thousand rectangles?" Alright, this time I was continuing with the offer simply to point out that numeric value.

...But then a very large part of me wanted to put the part of me currently in control of my voicebox in a vicious stranglehold. He didn't deserve that kind of expenditure, did he? What had he done to deserve it? Eaten my food, messed with the levers on my chair, and spoken to... ...I'm not even going to dignify that thing with a pronoun.

And yet here I was, offering to buy him a suit. I ought to check myself into an asylum.

Cricket

"Fifteen thousand that could go t' some person or cause other than myself rather than t' be spilled over something I don't need," I said, my voice somewhat softer than it might have been usually due to the fact that it was particularily awkward hearing someone offer to spend so much on me. I'll usually take a gift when it's given, but it's not every day that that happens. Let alone a big flashy one. I wasn't one for big and flashy, only one to occasionally wonder at big and flashy.

Mr.Face:

"You really have no grasp of how I do my own banking do you, My---Cricket."...Alright way to make a bizarre situation worse there. "Apologies, that came out sounding completely ridiculous." I amended quickly.

Cricket

"--Glad t' know you didn't do that on purpose," I said hurriedly, almost cutting off the last bit of his sentence. I was honestly starting to regret giving him my name.

Mr.Face:

" That was the most horrible accidental portmanteau to have ever been committed. What say you we never speak of that incident again?" I asked, hoping to completely drop the thing.

I paused awkwardly for a moment. "Anyway, suits."

Cricket

"Aye say I. Suits," I agreed, already putting that incident into the dusty piles of forgettable thoughts in the corners of my mind. Terrible. "But honestly, you truly shouldn't spend th' money."

Mr.Face:

"I can always get more, you do realise. I'm not poor like your other friends. I can afford nonsensical extravagances. If it were a true imposition..." I paused for effect there, allowing a grin to creep across my face. "You would be well aware."

Cricket

I . . . wasn't quite sure how to take that. "No, no . . . See, I know you're ungodly rich enough t' make th' devil sell 'is soul t' you, but still. It's still money t' me, and I tend t' not take charity unless I steal it for myself."

Mr.Face:

"Don't think of it as charity. Think of it as business. I am giving you something, which is achieving something that you give to me in return. This thing could be an actual physical entity, with substansial monetary value or it could be one of those...I don't know... What is that thing that one achieves with their suppoused feelings? Psychological manipulation? ...No that would be if I was forcing you to do something... You know the one." I tried to explain something that I myself had very little grasp of. It was like explaining colour to me. Or resonant vibrations to everyone else. Frustrating and moderately futile.

Cricket

"You're wanting it t' be some token o' friendship?" I raised an eyebrow. The reasoning behind the sudden offer was a lot more clear now, for sure. I kept forgetting the friendship deal as I kept getting swept up in the oddness of the moments. Well, not forgetting. The thought was still there, but it was a second thought, rather than the first and only explanation for anything. I blew a strand of hair out of my face, leaned deeper against the wall, and shook my head. "Friend, mate, you still 'aven't gotten quite a grasp. I'm not one for business, and I don't want your money. Th' suit, th' food, ah . . . well I actually don't quite mind food. But you truly honestly don't 'ave t' shower me with stuff."

Mr.Face:

"Sure... lets go with that. And why not? My understanding of this all is: I don't kill you and I treat you generally nicely. Items fall under the "Generally Nice" category, do they not? Therefore, logically, by investing money in your existence, I am proving that I do not wish you immediately dead. Which is also generally nice. It's like a double edged sword of dripping in... I don't know, nice things. Whatever those are. Blood that washes out without necessitating two rounds of bleach. Or perhaps vichyssoise. It is also a nice liquid. Yes. Dripping with vichyssoise. That works." I explained. I really did hope I'd interpreted this correctly... Because the whole.. being nice thing seemed a bit... overly complex. I'd still be working on it of course, however... it was so nuanced. Yes dinner, no suits... yes, refrain from killing me... How was I suppoused to figure this stuff out? Perhaps I could ask for an enumerated list. That would work.

Cricket

"Lost me after th' sword bit, but I think I got what you're saying. And ah . . . aye. Aye, you've got most of it down, except per'aps th' part that you left out actually caring, though I get that not wishing someone immediately dead might be as far as it gets for you ever." And all of this to avoid a name. I almost felt sorry for the guy. He seemed to be trying quite a lot harder than I was, and in fact, I was almost trying not at all. I didn't want to be friends, persay, only to satisfy my curiousity and my want to not have me or my friends killed and occasionally my appetite. What had he done? Strained to be unselfish in his own selfish way, allowing me priveledges and making me an exception. When you put that in perspective . . . you could say I was being a jackass.

Well. Oh bother.

. . . but I couldn't simply make friends. It's not that simple. There were too many things in the past that I couldn't simply forget about.