IC Inbox

[littletonoidea]

"This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel of the-- previously of the U.S.S Hephaestus, leave a message and I'll see if I can bear to drag myself away from whatever utterly engaging task I must be doing to not notice my comms--"

BZZZZZZZ

Action | Text | Voice | Video

Comments

[littletonoidea]

[Okay, maybe it's a sibling thing to take that in the worst way possible, but the way Eiffel sees it...]

So, uh. Your dad, who knew exactly what you wanted, made a joke out of your whole birthday and made you really freaking embarrassed to care about it.

But your brother... got the thing you wanted, at like- probably the cost of not getting any actual presents he wanted for himself, and then offered to give it to you because he knew how much it meant to you?

[A brief pause.] And you're mad at your brother for gaming your dad's shitty system to do something nice for you?

[omertae]

[ Another long pause. Angelo's actually thought about this a lot, mostly in terms of how irritating it was to have Ludo graciously come knocking on his door to share a stupid train with him and act as if it was a nice thing. It wasn't a nice thing. It's like when pricks on the internet give homeless people pizzas, but they just have to film it and put it on fucking Facebook or whatever. It's exactly the same as that.

He's not going to waste time splitting hairs over the details, though, so he very firmly puts all of that aside. ]

Do you know how irritating it is to have to fucking grind for something your whole life, and then someone else comes along and just gets to have it?

[littletonoidea]

[That gets a slightly more pointed pause from Eiffel, and his tone is a bit... not cold, but harder.]

Yeah, actually. Because I grew up with a few toes real damn close to the food stamps line in Texas.

[omertae]

[ If Angelo feels at all guilty hearing that, then it doesn't sound in his voice. ]

So you get it. There you go. What're you all twisted up about?

[littletonoidea]

I think we're working on different scales here. Little baby Dougster had to choose whether he got Christmas or birthday presents, 'cos no-one in his extended family could afford both, or wanted to give them to him.

But also? You were twelve. Your life flashing before your eyes is just Rich Kid's Sesame Street, and the grind is scamming your neighbours on twenty dollar lemonade stands. Yeah, it sucks that your dad screwed you over because he thought he was teaching you a lesson, and all it did was make you angry. But that's not your fault. And it's not Ludo's either.

[omertae]

Nothing's ever his fucking fault.

[ It's a bitter mumble, thin and weary. It's not the first time he's said that so resentfully, nor will it be the last. The thing is, he's not stupid. He knows his brother isn't responsible for every single remotely shitty thing that's ever happened to him. It's complicated. But he doesn't blame Ludo for existing, just for not doing enough to make it clear that his existence shouldn't be an obstacle to Angelo. ]

Anyway, I don't know why you're going full Commie on me. I'm not an asshole, alright? It's not my fault that my family's got money. And I'm not saying I fuckin'... volunteer at soup kitchens and tithe my income to charity, I like to spend what I've got, but I did actually earn it. Yeah, my dad gave me a job, I guess that makes me a nepo baby. But then I actually, y'know, went to the fuckin' job.

[ A pause, where he's clearly weighing up whether or not he should bother telling Eiffel this at all. ]

My first real job – so, at a business, not the business – I was twenty. My dad fit me in as the manger at one of our restaurants, L'Ultima Cena. Means The Last Supper in Italian, by the way. That's not relevant. So, I was the manager, and there was this guy, Nathan. He was like, an actual career restaurant guy, the expert. So I guess he was actually doing the work, and I was just... you know, supposed to be learning from him. But he was a fuckin' asshole. I can't spell for shit, my handwriting's awful, I know all that, but even I know you're supposed to just point that out to someone politely if it's a problem, you're not supposed to go up to them in public and say, "Hey, can you read out this note, because you write like a first-grader and I can't fuckin' read it." He was a real cunt. Pardon my French. But – so, anyway, we didn't get along, but we also... were intimate. It was like a hatefuck thing. And one time he got a little too handsy with me for my liking — [ He blusters right over that last part. Moving quickly on: ] So I fired him, and then I had to start doing everything myself. And I did. And we got a Michelin star.

[ It's clear he's actually genuinely proud of that, the tone audible in his voice. ]

So my point is, I'm not some useless rich kid with a thumb up my ass. And it sucks that your family didn't have any money, but that's not my fault either.

[littletonoidea]

[Eiffel does retain it all - he is genuinely listening to everything Angelo tells him, and quietly resolving to see if he can't get the guy to cook for him one day - but it's a lot. So he's going to focus on just a small part of it at a time.]

Sooo... does that mean you might wanna work in the kitchen instead?

[omertae]

[ ...Huh.

Angelo opens his mouth and then shuts it again, brow furrowed. Not because he hates the idea, but because it actually makes so much fucking sense that he’s mad he didn’t think of it first. And if he’s honest with himself, he’s actually quite relieved Eiffel isn’t blabbing on about his traumadump back there. Sometimes Eiffel sucks a little less than usual. ]

Can I just do that?

[littletonoidea]

Yeah, man. I'll pop in a word to the big guy and get your shift moved over. I dunno if they'll let you go full Michelin on their asses there, but an actual chef there is pretty much always welcome.

[He flicks through briefly.] I think they've got like, breakfast, lunch, dinner and the all-rounders. Any preference?

[omertae]

[ Time to not look a gift-horse in the mouth, hard. ]

... Dinner.

[littletonoidea]

...you sure? WhichI'monlyasking 'cos that one's got three teenagers on it. You'd be the only grown-up on shift.

[omertae]

Oh, fuck that. Which one has the most adults?

[littletonoidea]

Probably breakfast? You'd probably like Trixie, she's a stone cold cowboy bitch. Swing's cool too, though, Maggie's awesome.

[omertae]

Is she actually a cowboy?

[littletonoidea]

She comes from cowboy times and swears like a sailor? And doesn't take anyone's shit. She's a terrifying power babe.

[Eiffel is readily cowed by powerful women and Trixie definitely hits the mark.]

Maggie's just a normal twenty-first century person, apart from the whole zombie thing, but she's got this real core of steel.