34: The presumably depraved monster-gentleman

As Phaorette came to the table, Mons Gullet, the presumably depraved monster-gentleman, also approached from another angle. Cadbury Fife stood as the two approached, then, as they reached the table, he stepped backwards in a reverse-bow motion.

Gullet: [Taking Cadbury's spot] Grapefruit Juice, Madam?

Phaorette: Orange?

Gullet: We only have Grapefruit. And, we are, well, out of that. [Looking at Cadbury who was carrying a glass of GJ]

Phaorette: It’s okay, I really don’t like grapefruit.

At this point Cadbury was wandering off towards the rear edge of the structure.

Gullet: That is probably good. Grapefruit supplies are extremely low. Way of the world, I fear. Also, there is a certain mortality rate among those that aren’t accustomed to this brand.

Phaorette: [Looking around] Where is the music?

Reaching the end of the tableaux, Cadbury descended out of sight.

Gullet: I do not rightly know. This was something The Detective recorded earlier. You been to Longing Lake before?

Phaorette continued peering quizzically into the air around where Cadbury had disappeared.

Phaorette: No. I don’t like bodies of water larger than, or colder than, a hot tub. [Indicating towards where Cadbury had disappeared] That is a most peculiar man.

Gullet: Did Mark von Cola never take you down here?

Phaorette: [Turning her attention back] Hmmm, no. He didn’t take anywhere. I was a mistress, do you know what that is? Maybe he came here sometimes though. Might explain all the poles.

Gullet: Are you anxious, Madam? Do you miss Mark?

Phaorette: Mark was… this is saying something coming from me… remote and detached. Not really someone you missed. Representing the people apparently sucks the person out of you.

Gullet: Did he talk to you about Selia?

Phaorette: I don’t think so. He didn’t talk much and I listened even less. Although… [she trailed off]

Gullet: Although?

Phaorette: Well, he did on occasion like to dress up like a bit of a woman… now that I think about it, she looked a bit like this Selia. Never thought about it at the time.

Gullet: That was normal for him or you?

Phaorette: No idea. I don’t curry favor with normality. Not something I have time for. Funny thing is though I thought he did it when he was feeling demented, bent or strung out or something… but maybe it was that the woman he was role-playing was demented?

Gullet: He was role-playing as Selia? You know that Selia only became disturbed due to Mark disappearing?

Phaorette: [Ponders a moment] Maybe so. Who knows?

Gullet: [Ponders a moment, briefly drumming his fingers] I need to understand the details of your sex life.

Phaorette: [Looking askance at the aged beast] Why would I tell you any such thing?

Gullet: Just the intimate details. These are the things that I need to know.

Phaorette: Well, strangely, I’d be more prone to telling you if you didn’t need to know. The need to know is really what’s scaring me. Even if I believed your story.

Gullet is taking notes on a few electronic devices with one hand and moving table items around with the other. His eyes though remain fixed on Phaorette.

Gullet: Please don’t think this type of business stimulates me whatsoever. Nothing could be further from the truth in fact. Yet still…

Some foam appeared at his lips, so he quickly licked it away.

Phaorette: What a lovely man you are. The secrets of my sex life are available in several publicly available media. Telling you here and now just seems… redundant, if not repulsive.

Gullet: I am very sorry, ma’am. I assure you… well no, I can’t do that, at this point, but erm… in any case I do need this information.

Phaorette: Why is this whole thing so entirely apocalyptic? What are hoping to get out of these questions? Are you planning on solving this mystery at all?

Gullet: The mystery was solved long ago according to our call sheet. We’re really just mopping up the high level details…. Motivation; Victim; Detective.

Phaorette: Where does my sex life fit in to that?

Gullet: The answers to some questions, question the basis for their answers. [Pauses] If you swim with the tide, you end up over-stroking yourself, see.

At this point a bug flew into Phaorette’s face, and she flailed a little in swatting it away.

Phaorette: No, no, not entirely. What are you doing with your fingers?

Gullet’s fingers were in constant motion, on multiple devices, some of which seemed familiar, others not so. It was astonishing how nimble they were, and most people were prone to assume he was just manipulating them at random to give the impression of activity.

Gullet: Data capture. Communications. PR. Finger exercises.

She shot him the look of a burnt scone.

Gullet: Do you support the Politician’s Strike?

Phaorette: Don’t understand it, really at all. What it is about?

Gullet: Mark never discussed this?

Phaorette: I don’t know. Maybe. I would black out for stretches. Yes.

Gullet: While in a bed?

Phaorette: Yes I suppose so.

Gullet: In what type of pose?

Phaorette: What type of pose? What?

Gullet: Pose. [He proceeded to render various type of poses. Some came with pursed lips, which was problematic because his lips didn't entirely function properly.]

Phaorette: I don’t remember poses. Though I would probably remember those, as they seem unique.

Gullet: What color were his eyes?

Phaorette: The color of fear. All men’s eyes are filled with fear, poor creatures.

Gullet: [Taking several long blinks] Why would that be? What fills the eyes with fear?

Phaorette: No idea. Men’s concerns are no concern of mine. The stiffness of collars, the limpness of penises, it’s all the same to me.

Gullet: Indeed, yes.

Phaorette: It is all precisely the same. Seriously, if they want to keep their crushing unfulfilled desires buried deep inside, then great. Positively fantastic in fact. I don’t want that repressed smut getting in the way of what I want.

Gullet: What is it that you want?

Phaorette: Sex and cuteness.

Gullet: Hmmmm.

Phaorette: It’s all any woman wants. Brutal sex and unbearable cuteness. They are the cure for a world too full of nothing… and also the antidotes for each other.

Gullet: Do you support the Politician’s Strike?

Phaorette: You never explained it to me. [A moth strikes her eye.] Why are these things not attacking you!?

Gullet: The moths are moving west, purging guilt from the land.

Gullet looked directly up and sighted the moon. He made an unsavory sucking noise with his lips.

Gullet: So it’s time to move this along.

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