1st Broadcast- [voice]

[thatmadbastard]

[Guy Burgess hasn't been in Luceti long enough for most things.

Being a smaller man with little luck, he hasn't found his own clothes yet, or even been told that they were in a shop somewhere, waiting. He hasn't gotten over his newest accoutrements and the fact that no fine haberdashery could adequately swathe a pair of wings. He does like their colour, however. Reminds him of the coat he misses. He hasn't gotten the chance to make something of his bedroom or have anyone in it, but he certainly has plans. Personalizing his every surrounding is part of what Guy enjoys. His own loudness is everything his world mirrors, but none of that has happened yet.

One thing Guy has most definitely, however, been in Luceti long enough for is to make a bloody fit of breakfasts had so far with Kim and Anthony in mornings after too little sleep.

He's far too damned lazy to write, but he's sorted his way through enough of the guide to know he can press something and broadcast his voice. If there is one fucking similarity in this place, it is that he could broadcast at all. It isn't BBC radio, but what he has to say isn't exactly their material either.]

There's nothing continental about a bloody continental breakfast. At least an empire is built on a start of its kind. The best of thinkers eat empires as their breakfast, lob them into bowls and think of all the ways their countries could devour one another. Yet there's something appalling and dull, spooning into one's mouth the liquid and creamed wheaty remains of a box made hot.

At least in a continental breakfast one has something to chew on, physically, as they realize how bloody little there is to eat. EAT YOUR CONTINENTS TOMMY. THEY'RE BLOODY GOOD FOR YOU.

[There's a pause in his speech, perhaps for dramatics, though it's just as likely he's taking a suck from his cigarette.]

I've yet to find where everything is in this buggering town, but I refuse to endure another unacceptable morning of a spoon in an opened can of something. The best anachronisms are catchy, but I'd prefer not to be using little three letter blots in regards to my morning meal. Breakfast should not be UFO's... unidentified food objects splattered about in a bloody bowl.

Coffee can only take one so far without a country in it. Irish, Spanish, it doesn't matter. There's something to make it tolerable. I never knew it was possible to brew undrinkable coffee but it would seem my beloved compatriots have made a talent of it.

No more, I say. NO BUGGERING MORE.

Hello and good morning, Luceti. RISE AND SHINE YOU SHEEP OF THE WORLD. Guy Burgess, September the 24th, midmorning greetings.

[So ends your broadcast. Hope you like that you're now a substitute for the radio in part.

OOC: Backdated to before the event, that way he can get a proper introduction with people acting themselves. Also will begin tagging after work tomorrow. For now SLEEP.]

Comments

[tehoniongirl.livejournal.com]

[...well, that was one way to start the day. She sounds amused when she speaks up.

This audience, at least, can give you direct feedback]

I take it no one's pointed you towards the bakery, then?

[thatmadbastard]

You would be entirely correct. I'm hoping by tomorrow I'll have enough proper things to do something with it all. Though that entirely depends on the helpfulness of ladies like you.

[tehoniongirl.livejournal.com]

Just the ladies? That seems awfully one-sided.

[herotypical]

....Charismatic. [ delightfully dry. ]

You want a hand finding stuff, Sir Rants-a-lot?

[thatmadbastard]

[He seems to find the name amusing for he chuckles.]

My, my, how quickly you have learned. Do pardon me, darling, I tend to go off about the lot of things. Not entirely unhelpful if you've got a way of finding "stuff."

[herotypical]

I think it depends on the stuff you're looking for. Specific stuff? General stuff? Stuffy stuff?

[voice]

[all7seas]

[No...no, it cannot be. It cannot be HIM. Beckett, here? But then he calls himself something else. And why is he going on about breakfast and empires? Empires, though; that was always an interest for Lord Cutler Beckett.

Jack does not trust this---not at all at all.]

Admiral: might I recommend Seventh Heaven? All the breakfast you like, no spoons in cans.

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

Admiral?

[Guy laughs quite heartily at that.]

As mad as I was about Dartmouth, the navy wouldn't have me. I'm quite loathe to admit it, you know. Though I think I'm far more suited to my current occupation.

[voice]

[all7seas]

[Okay, he is a dead ringer for Beckett, but he speaks differently. Actually, he doesn't seem like a half-bad fellow; Jack has no qualms with people who get rejected by the Navy. He's not very happy with the Navy himself, at this point, considering what went on with Hornblower.]

Ah. And that is what, sir? Critiquing the morning meal?

[voice]

[consultmybooks]

[Applause, applause.

Because, really, what do you actually say to that?]

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

And who would be our lovely chorus there? Amusing morning?

[Written]

[shadedsunlight]

[That was different.]

Good morning to you too, sir.

[written]

[thatmadbastard]

[He makes a face when the writing comes through. It seems wrong that journals should work like that. He scratches out his own reply.]

Sir is very fond of his coffee. Without the grounds in it.

[voice]

[simplestgift]

Mr. Burgess?

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

Someone took note of the name! I've a listener, do I?

[The voice sounds vaguely familiar but he's not sharp enough yet to place it.]

Do tell us who it is! We're awfully flattered.

[Voice]

[mistlegacy]

[...well. That was an interesting way to start her journal browsing for the day.]

You can stop by the Welcome Center, if you want. We have bakery goods for those who don't feel like getting their own breakfast, as well as maps of the town and surrounding area. I'd be glad to help answer any questions you might have, as well.

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

Well aren't you absolutely charming. Some sort of personnel of the city, are you?

[He mentally takes note of the Center for later. That map will become resourceful.]

[Action]

[nobodyspoke.livejournal.com]

[Kim woke up with the first sentence. Had attempted to roll over and fall back asleep but it was wholly impossible. So he wandered to where Guy was preaching to the world and felt entirely sorry for this place.]

Guy please, it's too goddamn early for one of your sermons.

[Action]

[winksandnods.livejournal.com]

Your coffee set him off.

[...Nevermind that Anthony Blunt, who was sitting not far away in the same room, had been the man to brew the coffee this morning.]

[ voice ]

[halftheduet.livejournal.com]

Do you always take ten minutes to make a point that could have been made in one?

[Probably so.

The mark of an idiot or a genius. Maturin won't rush to judge which.]

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

Only when the mood so strikes me to not be concise, but being concise takes work. Perhaps I'll be terribly brief and answer you this way.

Mostly.

voice;

[ironizing.livejournal.com]

[Wow. Tony can already tell this one's a special snowflake.]

Yeah, well, clearly you haven't tried the Lucky Charms yet. You should They're magically delicious.

[voice]

[thatmadbastard]

[A bemused laugh.]

Lucky charms are, in my experience, far more apt in replacing breakfast entirely with a morning fuck.

Can't say I've had the chance since my arrival. Breakfast it is.

[doubleppk]

They call it that because you're supposed to eat light so that you can hop about and travel the world! Who's got time for a full fledged meal first thing in the morning? Sleep is way better~

[thatmadbastard]

The last I knew, there wasn't exactly the opportunity for worldly travels once one is granted a pair of wings and citizenship.

[Bitter? Of course. He wants to go home.]