Sacris Solemniis

[collector]

[Teapot before him, a plate of pastries beside it, Braxiatel sits at the kitchen table with Strindberg's Ett drömspel open in front of him. Braxiatel stirs sugar into his tea, and a faint smile crosses his face as his eyes flicker to something in the seat to his left.]

[He leans forwards and pours a second cup of tea, then lifts it up to hand it over, the smile widening.] I don't know what you mean by 'ulterior motives,' Comman—

[Braxiatel's fingers tighten on the cup before he can let it go. For a moment, it hangs there, hoping for a hand that cannot take it.]

Ah.

[It is a quiet realization.]

[Braxiatel sets the cup down, away from him. He leans back in his chair and picks up a scone to eat.]

Comments

[collector]

It can lose its charm. Anything in particular you're in the mood for?

[onehundredbeers]

Anything. I'm not picky.

[And he's back to trying to get the spoon on his nose.]

Wait! No Shakespeare. If I have to read one more thing of Shakespeare, I will... I will somehow go into the past. And kill him. He is a fucking douchebag and I refuse to read anything of his again unless, uh, I'm getting paid.

[collector]

[thoughtfully] It isn't literature, but have you ever seen Theatre of Blood?

[onehundredbeers]

Seen? Uh, if it's a movie, then probably not. I don't... watch a lot of movies. Or TV.

[collector]

Oh, well, it's a film about this Shakespearean actor who had a lot of bad reviews, so he killed his reviewers in the manner that assorted Shakespearean characters had died. I thought you might enjoy it.

[onehundredbeers]

[Nathan considers it.]

Maybe. I'll, uh, look into it when I get home. I'm not much of a fan of Shakespeare stuff. I know, I know, he's great, well, hey, fuck him. His grammar is terrible, he makes up words, and half...

[He trails off as he focuses on the spoon, oh man, he might have it this time!!! YEAH HE'S GOING TO FUCKING BEAT THIS THING.]

[collector]

[It's like waiting for Godot. Silenced by this moment, Braxiatel watches.]

[onehundredbeers]

[Nathan succeeds!]

Fuck yeah!

[Isn't it great having a guy who gets easily distracted as a friend?]

[collector]

[Braxiatel applauds politely and probably not even slightly sardonically] Well done.

[onehundredbeers]

Hey, uh. Use my phone to take a picture. I'm totally going to show the band.

[Carefully he fishes his Dethphone from his mangled jeans without causing the spoon to drop, and he passes it over to Brax. He may look through it all he wants, if so inclined, while trying to find the camera function.]

[collector]

[Braxiatel takes the Dethphone carefully, used to handling dangerous artefacts and small children. He takes a moment working it out, then lifts it up to take a photo of Nathan's epic accomplishment]

Say 'cheese,' but not too loudly. The spoon might fall.

[onehundredbeers]

Fuck that.

[Nathan instead goes for the ever classy smirk and flip the middle finger to whoever is looking at the photo.

Yeah, guys. He wants you to know when you see it that he did it, not you, so fuck you guys, Nathan wins.

What he wins is a mystery.]

[collector]

[Careful of the spikes, Braxiatel hands the phone back to Nathan] And now you have your proof. No matter how much it looks like it went through image-editing.

[onehundredbeers]

Like I could do believable photoshopping.

[He takes his phone and back into his pocket it goes.]

[collector]

I know nothing of your prowess or lack thereof in the fine art of the photoshop.

[onehundredbeers]

Well, I'm not, uh, good at it. Toki is. And the guys we hire to do our album covers. But not me. I can draw some, but not... photoshop.

[collector]

Then I see no one will have any cause for doubt.

[onehundredbeers]

Yeah, uh, if anything they'd accuse me of... gluing the spoon to my nose. Or- or I guess changing the date on my phone. It keeps track of the dates photos are taken.

[Oh god why hasn't he been making coffee every day he's been stuck here. Oh sweet, sweet caffeine and general coffee flavor. Also, note, the spoon is no longer on his nose. It fell. Just as he was saying that.]

[collector]

[Braxiatel absently reaches out to pick up the spoon and set it down neatly by the plates.] Clearly you'll just have to prove it to them by offering a repeat performance.

[onehundredbeers]

That might be hard. Unless I did it at a band meeting... [He contemplates this and sips his coffee again.] Ofdensen won't care. ...He will, but he'll let me do it. If it's at like, dinner or something, they'll be crowding around me. And you know, you can't do it with people too close. Or if Murderface was breathing on me. Ugh. Yeah.

[And from another pocket, he suddenly pulls out a voice recorder.]

Hey, uh, bring a spoon or something to the next band meeting. DON'T FORGET. And then try to get it to stick. During the meeting. Yeah.

[He then puts it away.]

[collector]

Yes, that sounds the ideal place.

[onehundredbeers]

It's perfect. They'll all be there and I'll be out of arm's reach.

[collector]

I think I could do with staff meetings with a similar set-up.

[onehundredbeers]

Yeah, they're pretty fun until Ofdensen tries to get back on task.