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

[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.]

[doubleppk]

I guess you could go try the cafe or something. Sanji used to cook a ton... [But oh. He's gone... so...] There might be somebody else who does.

[thatmadbastard]

It's not a very well known fact, but I personally can cook quite well. I'm very lazy, you see, but when things are this bad I haven't a choice, frankly. Not if I want a proper breakfast.

I'm unfortunately quite ignorant on where things are here.

[doubleppk]

Oh! Are you a new feather then? If you'd like, I can try to give you a tour!

[thatmadbastard]

My feathers are still quite painful, if that is any evidence to their newness.

You're very generous to offer a tour, though I've had the luck of another lady being equally helpful and showing me the map. I think once I've eaten something tolerable I'll see to sorting all of this out.

Though... would you be opposed to me asking questions?

[doubleppk]

Yes.

Oh! Probably Nami. She makes pretty good maps I hear.

What's on your mind? I'll try to answer. Or make something up. [Obviously the best person to get information from... someone who openly says she'll bs things she doesn't know.]

[thatmadbastard]

Miss Ginia, I do believe was the lady.

I'm fairly curious as to where the roles of those here fall. I suppose one could consider me ignorant on matters of rules established by the Malnosso characters that put us here, and where it is a mad fellow such as me falls in place.

[doubleppk]

Oh really? Hm... I don't know much about her beyond that she plays piano at the nightclub.

They don't have rules. Well supposedly if I tried to dismantle the battledome for parts I might get kidnapped for their experiments. But that could happen anyway. I guess their rules are don't even bother trying to escape, we're all just puppets and have to play in their drafts and shifts. But it's not really a voluntary thing anyway.

And by mad, what do you mean?

apologies for lateness

[thatmadbastard]

['Kidnapped for their experiments' leaves a dark shadow of thought over Guy. Yet it's something he can't linger on, not those trains. While he may have a small amount of time between his first burst into the sunlight from out of the battledome thinking he was in Bergen-Belsen and the moment of now, it hasn't been long enough for these dark things to penetrate his mind. He still has the bloodied bandages on his neck from trying to claw away the tattoos with his fingernails, of trying to rake away the skin, sobbing and scared. Being branded, being numbered, being captured with eyes and ears seemingly everywhere is dangerous for someone who already looks over their shoulder as occupational hazard. It would make him paranoid. Madder.]

I have a friend who quite endearingly calls me 'mad bastard.' Though if you are wondering whether or not I think myself mad, or whether I am believed to be mad by others is a question I can't answer. If not due to the relative differences in definitions then due to the variance in cultural parameters that makes someone definably so.

[Madness is easier to talk about. Blathering on about himself is easier. Safer.]

np np

[doubleppk]

Oh, is that all? [She says as though she lives inside an insane asylum of psychos. Then again, look at Luceti.]

Sounds like you'll fit right in with half of this nut-house.

[thatmadbastard]

If I am mad, I'm sure it will be quickly realized.

[He's grinning a bit, though the statement isn't as much of a joking matter as it sounds. It's all lighthearted tones with hardly any hint toward the seriousness.]

[doubleppk]

That's disturbing. Why will it be so quick?

[thatmadbastard]

Most people have a well developed idea of what a madman should be, don't they?

[doubleppk]

Have you ever heard of Arsene Lupin III?

[thatmadbastard]

Can't say I have. Enlighten me?

[doubleppk]

My idea of a madman. He's completely crazy. Hell, he even says that about himself.

One time he spent a whole year in jail up to his execution just because he was mad that he got caught. Stupid pride... He wants to be the world's most famous thief so he goes around stealing big projects, just to get the cops' attention. He went to ridiculous lengths to get a snowcone machine so he could have the perfect beer snowcone. He's broken in to get the Crown Jewels, only to find that too boring and just makes it a distraction so that he can get something more "interesting" instead. He's stolen the Statue of Liberty and the Cristo Redentor statue. Again, not for the purpose of actually stealing either one, but just to be flashy while he stole something else. One time he got his hands on the ultimate formula to make people immune to bullets and fire. And after using it a couple of times, he got the formula burnt and lost it... idiot. [Years later and she still resents that one since she went to extreme lengths to get the formula and he was only "borrowing" it from her.]

And for all of that, he's still saner than most of the people I've met in my line of work.

You seem very rational in comparison sir, I assure you.

[thatmadbastard]

[He'll be digesting all that this fellow supposedly stole for quite some time. Now that does sound utterly mad, but he reminds himself that in a place where people from far back in history can talk to him and coexist in the same moment of time make impossible things quite possible and extend the realm of possibility entirely.

It takes a few moments but then he speaks.]

Rather talented fellow by the sound of it.

[doubleppk]

Don't tell him that, he'll get an even bigger head.

If that's even still possible at this point.

[thatmadbastard]

Insufferable ego. I'm quite familiar with those.

[He looks in the mirror and sees one every morning.]

[doubleppk]

They're very irritating.

[thatmadbastard]

No good company is boorish, darling.

[doubleppk]

It'd be hard to find someone who wasn't.

[thatmadbastard]

You're in good company, I'd say. I don't think there is a soul, even in my professional circles, who would deem me boring. It's a wonderful life, duckie.

[doubleppk]

No worries about insecurities either, I see.