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

[herotypical]

Please. It's Buffy.

[thatmadbastard]

Buffy? Bit of an unusual name though mine is so ordinary it's tragically plain and unimaginative. And so my mother called me Guy. She's not the most impressive thinker, my mother. Quite boring and grounded in face values and first impressions.

[herotypical]

It's not that unusual. Is it?

[ a beat. ] G-Guy? [ oh dear god a bit of a choked sound. ] That's...huh. That's. Wow.

[ her explanation MAY catch up in a moment. ]

[thatmadbastard]

Not terribly. Though you seem to have something about my own name that you either think funny or disturbing. I'm curious as to which.

[herotypical]

...There was a guy. Another guy named Guy. Here. Once. Ran the bar.

[ and she misses him terribly. ] So I guess it's neither funny or disturbing. Just sad.

[thatmadbastard]

[That makes a bit of sense now.]

Sorry to bring up bad memories, though I'm sure they're not in shortage here.

[He hasn't quite gotten over the bitter flavour arriving put in his mouth. You can't quite wash that away with coffee, no matter how bad it tastes or the grounds that fell in it.]

I may not tend at the club here, but I can tell you I'll be there often. I was rather fond of a local back in London. In the spirit of finding replacements for things, your bar may be my local. I can be a horrible replacement for a gentlemanly fellow from the way you talk about him.

[herotypical]

Technically? I think I'm his replacement. I'd be the same Buffy who tends bar down at Good Spirits. Where you're pretty damn welcome, horrible or not.

[thatmadbastard]

Oh, I hardly think I should ever take place behind that counter. I don't think I'd do very well with it, and my friends wouldn't stand for it. I only meant as a fellow named Guy who's often in the bar.

[A small laugh.]

I'll leave drink pouring to you, duckie, and the drinking to me.

[herotypical]

It's cool. I mostly meant the drinking, anyway. We're fully staffed. But...wait, duckie? Seriously?

[ did he somehow just mishear her? ] It's Buffy.

[ 'cause she gets malapropish names all the time. it's where her assumptions first settle. ]

[thatmadbastard]

Simply an endearment, Miss Buffy. Perhaps I'm a bit too friendly with all my acquaintances, but that's how it is.

...you know, I bet you hear all sorts of problems, tending a bar.

[His voice perks a little. This is something he can use, perhaps.]

[herotypical]

A barmaid's as good as a guidance counselor. And I've been both.

[ actually, about 50% of the time she's the one telling patrons about her problems. oh buffy. ]

[thatmadbastard]

I worked for the BBC back in London. I broadcasted a programme called "Auntie's Agony." It had people coming in, live, to the studio, with their problems. Our agony aunt was rather good at her job.

It's what got me hired, actually. Far easier and quicker results than writing into a written publication.

[One thing modern radio listeners will always hate Guy Burgess for: he's the inventor of reality radio shows.]

All people have problems, and they like to talk about them. Gratuitously. If I ever take up making programmes here, it would certainly be the easiest.

[herotypical]

It lacks a certain amount of anonymity though, doesn't it? I mean -- village this small. It'd be a bit like parading your problems in front of the people causing them.

[thatmadbastard]

Fair point. I do wish to broadcast something aside from the woes of ill breakfasts. Something perhaps that people can take something from.

Aside from such programmes I typically hosted talks on the political movements and governmental policies regarding events currently across Europe. Less applicable here. Though with someone who still has pains from gaining their wings quite literally, I hardly know the town, let alone what would gain an audience.

[herotypical]

Honestly? We're a pretty mixed crowd. But give me a good romcom and I'm yours.

[thatmadbastard]

'Romcom'? Can't say I follow.

[herotypical]

Romantic. Comedy. Best of both worlds. Like a treatza. Treats and pizza. Who doesn't like a cookie crust smothered in chocolate sauce and pieces of Snickers bars?

[thatmadbastard]

Now that is something I would like to try. I think it would be interesting to collect the recipes of others. Do you favour dessert or have you a wide variety of talents with cuisine?

[herotypical]

...Pretty sure that my own cuisine-based talent involves eating said bits of cuisine. Or maybe inventing ones that no one else wants. I'm getting better, though! I know how to make curry, now. I'm a curry maker, me.

[thatmadbastard]

I'm more traditional to the English way of things. My custard is quite good, though I haven't had reason to make it in a long time.

[Reason being he got lazy and had a handsome showboy around the house to cook and clean and have is way with.]

[herotypical]

Trifle and puddings and cream tea. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've known my fair share of to-the-hilt Brits.

[thatmadbastard]

That isn't to say I'm close minded. I'm rather fond of the French and their cooking, though everything is so ghastly rich it catches up after more than a week end.

[herotypical]

I cannot tell a lie, Guy. Mostly? I'm just fond of chocolate. French or English? I don't care.

[thatmadbastard]

Now chocolates I will agree with you about. I carry them with me, typically. A box of little morsels for when the mood so strikes. Nothing quite better than that.

[It's right up there with the cigarettes and gin he always has on his persons.]

[herotypical]

...Beautiful.