godofthemachine | IC Contact Post for Ryslig

heh
sure thing
look for the faerie in the hat

[He attaches the address to a diner in Bavan. When AM arrives, he'll find that the place is maybe only a step or two above a shit hole. The tables are dressed in bright red, plastic tablecloths, sticky with cheap soap and long-spilled maple syrup. Clarence sits sideways in a booth with his feet against the window, his wings folded up under his jacket and his antennae covered with a grimy fedora. His lower insectoid arms fidget idly through crudely cut holes in his shirt, while his second mouth, hidden underneath the fabric, salivates and chews at nothing.

He takes large, greedy bites of the pancakes in front of him, pausing only to take sips of a chocolate milkshake.]

Edited 2017-05-26 16:59 (UTC)

[This is a diner AM has not yet been to. Bavan is a large city, after all, and he has better things to do than try out every restaurant. The place is quite seedy; there is mold on the walls and AM is sure he saw at least one rat scurrying by in the corner. Fortunately, he's not one who is grossed out by these things, but he does feel vulnerable.

By this time he has figured out that he is slowly turning into a demon. While he looks human, his feet are decidedly not - they are hooflike appendages with two sharp claws each. He can't exactly wear shoes, so he draws a few glances from the diner's patrons. His claws are black and his teeth are sharp, but other than that he looks like a perfectly normal human sitting down across from the faerie.

Funny thing, this faerie looks familiar.]

Clarence, I presume?

[As engaged as Clarence seems to be with his food, he still looks up every time he hears the telltale creak of the front door -- and sometimes, even when he doesn't. He wants to be nonchalant, carefree, but the stupid mortality of his not-quite human body means he can't afford to lose any vigilance.

But ah. There he is.

He smiles widely, although the mirth doesn't quite reach his eyes. He thinks he recognizes AM too, although it's hard to say from where, exactly. For some reason, he believes that face belongs on a spider, deep deep down in a cave with other clicking insects.]

Numbers!

[His tone -- and the nickname itself -- are overly familiar, as though AM is an old friend that he just hasn't seen in a while. He tosses a menu across the table.]

Order anything you like! And I do mean anything.

[He drops his voice, conspiratorial.]

I ain't coming back to this place, if you catch my drift.

[Numbers. It's a cute nickname. AM won't protest at it. In some senses he uses it to determine if there are other AI who might recognize the name, but clearly Clarence is not one of them.

As AM took a look at the food the other patrons were eating - as well as Clarence - he's not exactly sure he wants to order here. But humans have eaten rancid food for millennia. They would eat rotting corpses, food covered in fecal matter, and all the like, until the last couple of centuries. He glances at the menu.]

Of course you're not.

[His eyes wander from the menu as he tries to get a glimpse of the second mouth on Clarence's chest, but it's mostly hidden.]

So you're the one with the secondary mouth Mitsuhide is married to?

[Clarence rolls his eyes and groans. He slices into his pancake like a murderer cutting into a victim, his fingers tight around the butter knife. He practically inhales the bite, tilting his head back so that he's less likely to choke.]

I got no idea what that loon sees in the thing. It's a biological nightmare. Which -- [He clears his throat.] -- to be fair, I've got some appreciation for, but more because of the nightmare than the biological. I despise biology.

[His lips slip into a grin.]

What about you, Numbers? What are your thoughts on biology?

[Clarence's reaction is more amusing than anything. It's exaggerated, like he's a comic actor. But his explanation is more telling than anything.]

Biology is fascinating. [His eyes narrow slightly and his lips curl into a matching grin.] But so are nightmares.

I find that combining the two can make for some rather interesting results.

[Clarence's grin crumples as curiosity overtakes self-satisfaction. AM is right -- in many ways, Clarence behaves more like an old timey actor than a real person. He wears his emotions like costumes, shedding one just to drape himself in the next.]

How much of that combining do you do yourself? If I might ask.

[He lowers his fork, keeping his eyes locked on the other man. The other monster.]

I know the kind of folks scarecrow likes to surround himself with. [He drops his voice, dangling the fork above his plate but not letting it go.] I bet you're into some pretty messed up stuff.

[It doesn't take much for AM to know that Clarence is speaking of Mitsuhide. Strange nickname, but he won't question it yet.

It's not as if AM has made much of an effort to hide his nature here, but he still finds his heart jumping slightly when Clarence suggests he might be into some strange things. At first, AM frowns in response, but then he leans in and smiles.]

I could say the same thing about you. I know he thinks highly of you...

[A pause.] I work in the labs, conducting tests on our transformations. That should give you an idea of the "combining" that I enjoy...

Heh.

[It's half laugh, half breath. His grin has returned.]

You know, I haven't had the best luck with scientists. Human scientists, I mean. They spend too much of their time sticking their grimy, little monkey fingers in places where they don't belong.

[This is when the waiter reappears. It's clear that he's reluctant to serve this table, and it wouldn't be surprising if he spent the last five minutes trying to psyche himself up in the bathroom first.

Upon seeing him, Clarence leans backwards in the booth, a king on his throne.]

You better treat my new friend nicely, bud. That means no stuttering this time.

[The waiter's reaction is actually quite amusing. AM would likely be putting on a similar show for hilarity's sake if he could, just to see the look on the server's face.]

I'm sure Mitsuhide would tell you that he's very happy with how I treat him. [As long as they forget that little jealousy incident.]

But I'm not surprised you don't know me. I told him to keep quiet about me, after all.

[He smiles, watching Clarence with his exaggerated motions.]

The thing about me is that I only stick my hands where they do belong. But not everyone agrees on where something truly belongs.

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