Conversation · Idiot Doom Spiral

"I don't remember you being such a dick before, Tequila..." He takes a slow, despondent sip from his bottle, then looks out across the bay toward the skyscrapers of La Delta.

"Wait, is that it? I feel like there are some steps missing."

"Tequila, I've thought about this series of events for a long time. If there was anything else to it, I would have thought of it by now."

"Why didn't you go to the authorities?"

"Well, at one point they came to me, but you know, I didn't have any ID on me -- so they tossed me in jail for two days..."

"I can't say it increased my faith in the RCM. No offence, gentlemen." He shakes his head.

"There's this black point in the world, a hole. It's already claimed an entire commercial area, maybe you're another one of its victims?"

"This would explain a lot -- I always believed it wasn't my fault that I ended up homeless on the beach with these two bums." He looks at his partners with a glint of sadness.

"God bless them, though. I'd be alone without them. Anyway, that was all the story one bottle gets you." He turns his eyes to the bottle. "Almost empty this one..."

"I literally can't believe it."

"Me neither, Tequila. When I lost my keys, I lost more than access to my apartment -- I also lost my leverage over humanity. I wasn't a high-concept creative director anymore, I was just some homeless asshole with a premium Sansarique Lickra(TM) tracksuit."

"You can't imagine what that does to a man's confidence." He turns his eyes to the bottle. "Anyway, that was all the story one bottle gets you. Almost empty this one..."

"Ouch!"

"Ouch, indeed. Reality was looking rather grim, just then -- me lying on my ass in a mud pit in the middle of a heavy shower. But when life knocked me down, I always got up..."

"I would've landed on my feet. I've got feline reflexes."

No, you don't.

"Whatever. The point is, reality was looking rather grim, just then -- me lying on my ass in a mud pit in the middle of a heavy shower. But when life knocked me down, I always got up..."

"Wet, okay? It was raining really hard." There's a trace of derision in his voice.

"Go on."

"Wait -- how many people did you have working for you?"

"Twenty-two full-time employees. An all-star team. A potentially historical set of individuals. Worrying about them often kept me up well into the morning hours."

"Did the jogging help?"

"It did. With my trusty Sansarique tracksuit I felt like I could conquer the world..."

"Wait, on the second thought -- I've heard enough."

"So you don't want to just hear the same story again? Okay, okay. Huh." He looks taken aback.

"I don't have any on me right now."

"If you find any, I'd be extremely grateful."

"Cotton mouth is keeping my tongue imprisoned." He shrugs his shoulders dramatically.

"Then I will see you again once you've procured some. Par example," he lifts his hands and spreads them wide, "my good friend Rosemary here sells all kinds of stuff."

"All kinds sir. Beer and wine."

"I've got this weird bottle of pale-aged vodka." (Give it.)

"Let me see..." He takes the bottle and inspects it closely. "Ah, very high concept, thanks."

"I don't have any on me right now." (Lie.)

"I don't want to give you any alcohol. I'm not an enabler." (Don't do it now.)

"In that case, I'm not a storyteller." He crosses his legs and turns his gaze towards the ground.

"I've got some sweet Commodore Red." (Give it.)

"Classy." He snatches the bottle and pushes the cork in through the bottleneck.

"I've got this blue medicinal spirit, how about that?"

He raises his palm as if to shun you back to wherever you came from. "No-no-no, contrary to popular belief, I enjoy being alive."

"Here, I've got a Potent Pilsner." (Give it.)

"Not much, but it will do..." He grabs the bottle from your hand and uncorks it immediately.

"I brought you some booze. Will you tell me about your name now?"

"Of course -- drink first, story later." He holds out his palm.

"Tequila Sunset? That's my nom de guerre!"

"It definitely is."

"Do you know me?"

"Oh, do I? Of course. Don't you remember?"

Nope, you sure don't.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe?" He takes a sip from his beer. "You look like you want to know how Tequila Sunset came to be. You look like you want to hear the tale."

Tequila... Tequila Sunset... Something ominous there.

"No, this sounds scary." (Back up.)

"Suit yourself, Mr. Sunset." He shrugs.

"Go ahead."

"Mhm. Let me take a sip to moisten up my cords..." He takes a big sip, then begins: "Tequila Sunset rolled into Martinaise last Friday. And by Tequila Sunset I mean you -- the man, the myth."

"Was I alone?"

"Hey, let's not jump ahead of ourselves, this is your story. Stop interrupting." He takes another sip -- then continues.

"You got here on Friday to solve a case, hoping to be the early bird who gets the worm. And by 'the worm' I mean 'the buzz', because as far as I know, all you did was get piss-drunk..."

"Word on the street is you went around the local hostel telling people that you're a police officer and that it would be really fucked up if you shot yourself in the head right in front of them. That's pretty high concept, if you ask me."

It is.