Conversation · Garte, the Cafeteria Manager
Speakers · 29
Garte, the Cafeteria Manager
Cuno
You
Empathy
Volition
Kim Kitsuragi
Logic
Suggestion
Hand/Eye Coordination
Conceptualization
Half Light
Esprit de Corps
Interfacing
Inland Empire
Rhetoric
Drama
Physical Instrument
Reaction Speed
Authority
Perception (Hearing)
Shivers
Composure
Electrochemistry
Lena, the Cryptozoologist's wife
Savoir Faire
Encyclopedia
Visual Calculus
Endurance- Tutorial Agent
When
- Day 1 · "I saw a sign that said the mess hall is reserved for the Union." "About my bill..."
- Day 2 · "Fine. I'll take the trash container key." "About my bill for tonight..." Continue Continue "So, uh... you sure you can't swing me a free bed?" "About my bill..." "Come on, man. It's late. Do I really have to pay you again?"
- Day 3 · "About my bill for tonight..."
- Day 4 · "About my bill for tonight..."
- Day 5 · "About my bill for tonight..."
- Day 6 · "About my bill for tonight..."
- Day 7 · "About my bill for tonight..."
- Day 8+ · "About my bill for tonight..."
- 01:00 · 02:00 · 03:00 · 04:00 · 05:00 · 06:00 · 07:00 · 08:00 · 09:00 · 10:00 · 11:00 · 12:00 "I've seen something here at the Whirling, Garte. A thing I need to talk about." "Garte, I saw a sign that said I couldn't go into the kitchen. Why can't I go into the kitchen?"
- 16:00 · 17:00 · 18:00 · 19:00 · 20:00 · 21:00 · 22:00 · 23:00 · 24:00 Continue Continue
- 21:00 · 22:00 · 23:00 · 00:00 · 01:00 · 02:00 · 03:00 · 04:00 · 05:00 · 06:00 · 07:00 Continue Continue Continue Continue
- 23:00 · 00:00 · 01:00 · 02:00 · 03:00 · 04:00 · 05:00 · 06:00 Continue Continue Continue Continue
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"Exactly --" He looks at you. "But all in due time. Crypto-business is not a priority right now."
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You'll see her again one day. You know it. Things went like they did for a reason.
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Seeing the disappointment in your face, he relents. "Oh, fine, hero-cop. Lena left a forwarding address. 1113 Tabernacle Road, in Jamrock. If you see them again... do give them my best."
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"Yeah, Cuno doesn't know what the fuck this is about, but you should chill down, pig. You'll get this Lena fuck. On false charges." He nods confidently.
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He nods. "Yes. You know. And I went outside and took care of it. Everybody calmed down. Felt like the right thing to do."
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"No problem." He looks around at the empty establishment. "They'll come back. They always do."
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"I don't remember everyone who comes here." He shakes his head. "And -- many people wear sunglasses inside lately. Must be a fad."
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"Okay, so I have to mention -- when it happened, you were right out there. On the balcony."
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"Yeah, I was, yeah." He nods. Trying to remain aloof. "That's because I'm a bad ass."
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"If you say it as two different words like that, it sounds like there's something wrong with your ass."
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"Yeah, well..." He scoffs. "Fuck you too then. You have any more questions, or stylistic pronunciation advice?"
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"Yeah, I don't know..." He feels the need to explain himself. "Clients were panicking. And also, I guess I sort of found out that I don't give a shit if I die."
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He means it. It's not just boasting. It's something he discovered about himself, stepping onto that balcony.
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"Where was I? How do you think I know the crazy shit you pulled off out there? I was there -- out on the balcony, protecting my establishment."
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That's actually true. You remember him, from the corner of your eye, right behind you on the Whirling balcony...
"So yeah." He looks around, aloof. "I guess I'm what you call a bad ass."
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The man in the vest and the violet shirt stares at the tape you've just given him. He begins to frown. Hard.
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"Fine. Fine. Climb on that stage and do your thing, just get out of my hair." He shakes the tape at you. "I'll plug it in for you. Damn this karaoke machine..."
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- "Fine. Fine. After you've paid your bills you can climb that stage and do whatever the hell you need to do. After." He shakes the tape at you. "Damn this karaoke machine..."
- "Fine. Fine. Climb on that stage and do your thing, just get out of my hair." He shakes the tape at you. "I'll plug it in for you. Damn this karaoke machine..."
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"Fine. Fine. After you've paid your bills you can climb that stage and do whatever the hell you need to do. After." He shakes the tape at you. "Damn this karaoke machine..."
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"Hey... did that package ever come for me -- from Speedfreaks FM?"
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His eyes go wide with recognition. "Oh my god, the package -- I forgot, yes, yes it did arrive, when you were..." He stops, unsure how to continue.
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He searches underneath the counter. After a moment, he produces a pair of neon sneakers, packaged in a plastic bag. A postage label directs it to the Whirling-in-Rags, to the 'Wildest Cop in Revachol'.
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His face moves between a sympathetic smile and a sincere frown. Unsure what to do, he covers his mouth with his hand and pretends to cough.
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After a moment, he speaks. "Maybe you could send the shoes to him? In the hospital. Maybe it'd cheer him up. Do you know where he is?"
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"Right... I'll tell you what. I'll find out if you like, and can send them on to him. What do you think?"
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"Happy to help, officer. Anything else I can help you with?" He puts the package back under the counter.
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"I'll just take it. Thanks, Garte." (Take the shoes.)
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"Right..." He looks pained on your behalf. "I'll tell you what. I'll find out if you like, and can send them on to him. What do you think?"
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"Fair enough. Now if we're finished discussing this, can we return to solving the murder?" He struggles to keep his smile.