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[After getting a faceful of bees, sharks, and the ugliest snowflakes in creation in Celadon, Blake has moved on. He could take furious monsters from the sky, but if he had to deal with one more yuppie moron asking about his favorite boutique, he was going to clock somebody. Vermilion just has survival weirdos and muscleheads. He can live with those.
Anyway, the feed comes up on him in a library, because it was the only way to shut his lobster up.
He's sitting on a plush chair, looking sullen. Behind him, there's a table covered with books, topped by a Clauncher perusing them avidly. There's also a pile on the chair to one side of Blake. To the other side, there's his Snubbull, absorbed in some naval historical fiction.]
You know what they tell you about these little animals? They tell you what to feed them. They tell you about all the ways to fight with them.
They don't tell you that sometimes your lobster will tug on your pantleg and make whimpery noises until you take it to a damn library.
[Said lobster scuttles down from the table and clacks over, with a book on his back that he steadies with his claw. He climbs up on the chair besides Blake and deposits it on top of the pile. He looks at the untouched stack. He looks at Blake's empty hands. The stare in his eye is quiet disappointment.]
What?
[The Clauncher says nothing.
Blake sighs.] All right, all right. I'll take a look.
[He picks up a book from the pile, one that looks short, and opens it.] "Maman died today." Christ, that's cheerful. Who wants to read that kind of depressing shit?
[He tosses it aside and tries another.] "A green and yellow Chatot, which hung in a cage outside the door..." Nope, don't care about anybody's bird.
[He grabs another and opens it in the middle.] "I have heard the mermaids singing..." Yeah, sure you have buddy, I don't give a shit.
[One more, and he jabs a finger at a line at random.] "A drowsy numbness pains my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate" - the hell is this? Who wants to read about some moody junkie? They gotta have something where they talk like goddamn normal people.
[The Clauncher's antennae twitch and he perks up, getting an idea. He scuttles off and returns with a slim volume, which he sets on Blake's knee and opens to a certain page. He points at a line with his claw.
Blake picks it up for a closer look, then breaks into a smile.] Hey, that's not bad. [He looks to the screen.] Listen to this.
[He clears his throat and holds the book up dramatically. He recites,] "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."
[He sets it down and gestures at the screen.] Still, I got a question.
[He spreads his hands.] What good has a book ever done anybody?
Anyway, the feed comes up on him in a library, because it was the only way to shut his lobster up.
He's sitting on a plush chair, looking sullen. Behind him, there's a table covered with books, topped by a Clauncher perusing them avidly. There's also a pile on the chair to one side of Blake. To the other side, there's his Snubbull, absorbed in some naval historical fiction.]
You know what they tell you about these little animals? They tell you what to feed them. They tell you about all the ways to fight with them.
They don't tell you that sometimes your lobster will tug on your pantleg and make whimpery noises until you take it to a damn library.
[Said lobster scuttles down from the table and clacks over, with a book on his back that he steadies with his claw. He climbs up on the chair besides Blake and deposits it on top of the pile. He looks at the untouched stack. He looks at Blake's empty hands. The stare in his eye is quiet disappointment.]
What?
[The Clauncher says nothing.
Blake sighs.] All right, all right. I'll take a look.
[He picks up a book from the pile, one that looks short, and opens it.] "Maman died today." Christ, that's cheerful. Who wants to read that kind of depressing shit?
[He tosses it aside and tries another.] "A green and yellow Chatot, which hung in a cage outside the door..." Nope, don't care about anybody's bird.
[He grabs another and opens it in the middle.] "I have heard the mermaids singing..." Yeah, sure you have buddy, I don't give a shit.
[One more, and he jabs a finger at a line at random.] "A drowsy numbness pains my sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate" - the hell is this? Who wants to read about some moody junkie? They gotta have something where they talk like goddamn normal people.
[The Clauncher's antennae twitch and he perks up, getting an idea. He scuttles off and returns with a slim volume, which he sets on Blake's knee and opens to a certain page. He points at a line with his claw.
Blake picks it up for a closer look, then breaks into a smile.] Hey, that's not bad. [He looks to the screen.] Listen to this.
[He clears his throat and holds the book up dramatically. He recites,] "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers."
[He sets it down and gestures at the screen.] Still, I got a question.
[He spreads his hands.] What good has a book ever done anybody?
