Let Me Pick Your Brain (Richard, casual)

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Knowing everything was impossible. However, having a good imagination went a long way. That was how Sunny was able to write about things he had no real information on. A couple movies on the same topic, a little library time, and BOOM – bestselling novel. However, books couldn’t tell you how people wanted to act, how people thought. Well, some books did, but it wasn’t as if there were specific ones where he could just go through an index and say ‘Hey, ex-boxer thinks balloon animals are fun’ or something along that line. So, there was still something to be said for speaking with people.

That was how he came to be sitting in the plush office his publisher had loaned him for the morning. He’d hit a snag with his latest novel – a non-series book about a scorned politician who begins to cause chaos to spite his successor. It was still in the planning stages, but Sunny was confident it would make for a good story. But he needed to get the characters down right. The heroine had been easy. She was essentially his ex-wife with red hair. It would be entirely too entertaining to write her. The hero was a loose Ronald Regan allegory, but shorter, because the real Ronald Regan was too tall in his mind. He even had his stooge down, thinking that Alan Alda would have work if he ever sold the novel to a studio. The only one he was having trouble with was the biggest character – the scorned politician.

Now, had his characters been able to speak to him – where was this Schizophrenia condition when he needed it? – then he could have gotten into the man’s head and figured out exactly what he was thinking. But as it wasn’t to be, he was stuck doing the next best thing – interviewing the ex-mayor of New York City. If there were ever a scorned politician, he’d been assured it was Richard Pantagenet. So his publisher had arranged for him to speak with the man under some strange pretence of a history book being written on politics over the last twenty years in New York or some strange thing like that. Either way, he’d get what he wanted.

So when the other man arrived, Sunny stood up and held out his hand in greeting.

“Mr. Planagenet. Thanks for coming,” he greeted. “I’m supposed to ask you if you want a drink or something before I pick your brain. I wonder where they got that saying. It kind of sounds like it would hurt. It’s not like picking your nose, after all...”

...he’d have to remember that quote for a book when he kills a character with an ice pick to the brain. It would be ‘punny’.

But he was already off topic. That wouldn’t do.

“Take a seat.”

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Richard should have realized that the story Catesby had told him was just that - a story. But he had been so out of sorts recently, despite the apparent success of his clandestine plans, that if his assistant had informed him there was a man writing a book about equestrianism who wished to speak with him, he might have been inclined to believe it.

As it was, the idea of a history book on the last twenty years of New York City politics was certainly plausible, and Richard wasn't in the mood to question it - the interview with the author of the aforementioned book would get him out of his office for an hour or so at least (and my God, did he detest his office as late). He told Catesby to inform the publisher that he would be pleased to meet with the book's author and so, the following week, he found himself in his car on the way to the office that had been rented for the meeting. It wasn't far from City Hall, in fact, and so Richard had little time to think over just how he was going to concisely explain a reign he had destroyed, as well as his own less than spectacular period in power, before the car drew up outside the building.

He alighted from the car, thanked his driver and proceeded into the building. Having signed himself in at the reception desk Richard moved in his usual halting fashion towards the lift, and soon found himself outside the office he had been directed towards. Having rapped smartly on the door with his good hand he was bade to enter. He did so.

The man who greeted him was much younger than Richard had expected him to be, but then perhaps he was simply using a stereotype when thinking of historians. He smiled and shook the other man's hand when he offered it, telling the other man it was not a problem for him to be there before turning his attention to the rest of the man's speech.

“I’m supposed to ask you if you want a drink or something before I pick your brain. I wonder where they got that saying. It kind of sounds like it would hurt. It’s not like picking your nose, after all...”

Richard outwardly remained impassive, but inwardly raised an eyebrow. What on earth had prompted the man to that sort of reflection? Then again, stereotypically at least, some historians were eccentrics. This man - Mr. Crusoe, he recalled Catesby mentioning the man's name now - must be one of them.

He was usually a man to do his research but, as aforementioned, Richard had accepted the premise of the interview without question, and so as yet he had no idea of Crusoe's true intentions in, as he so eloquently put it, 'picking his brain'. He took the seat the younger man offered him with a nod of thanks, having placed his coat on the back of it.


"Mr. Crusoe, isn't it?" he asked, small, polite smile in place. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He paused. Then,

"I am well aware you're going to be the one asking the questions but I can't help but wonder, what prompted you to write this history? Why now?"

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

"Mr. Crusoe, isn't it? It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Sunny nodded as Plantagenet sat down, all polite smiles. Oh, he was a good one. Sunny could practically see the wheels in his head turning, the schemes and plans and quick sizing up that was going on. He’d been told that the man was a smooth operator, but it was interesting to see it for himself. Yes, he was the perfect one to talk to about all this.

“Oh believe me – the pleasure’s all mine.”

And it really was. So far, everything was going great. And when he wrote his novel, he’d have a true character to work with. Already with the limp and the arm...he had a fantastic character in mind.

"I am well aware you're going to be the one asking the questions but I can't help but wonder, what prompted you to write this history? Why now?"

Sunny blinked. History...right, right. He knew what was going on here. He was good at pretend.

“Well, my interests are varied and I like to write things that no one else would consider writing.”

It was more to do with the fact he was constantly bored. He wanted to have something to keep himself interested and occupied. He loved using his imagination, which meant that he didn’t take his pills like he should, but he figured the pros outweighed the cons there.

“Alright, so my questions will be focused on getting to know you – because I have the events, so does the rest of New York. It’s all research, and nothing is personal,” he explained, knowing he could be abrasive. “My publisher insisted that you sign a waiver.”

He gestured at the papers on the low coffee table and the pen sitting on it.

“Essentially, you release the interview and any information into my interpretation and don’t sue down the road. Not that suing gets anyone anywhere these days. No one has money and everyone sues. Did you know some woman sued a fast food place for spilling hot coffee in her own lap? What a county, I tell ya. It makes me wonder what I was fighting for.”

Not that he ever actually fought, but he did his time in the Navy. So if there was fighting, he would have been all over that.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

Richard watched Crusoe closely, as intently as he tended to observe all those with whom he conversed, as he waited for his answer. There was a slight pause, as though the man was unsure just how to respond, then,

“Well, my interests are varied and I like to write things that no one else would consider writing.”

"I see," Richard replied, with another small nod of acknowledgement. Now he came to think about it, it was a little strange that it had been years since Edward's death, yet there was nothing of it in the history books, only those of memory. Perhaps others had felt it would be disrespectful to his memory to look at his time in power in a manner more factual than emotional? Who could tell? People were fickle creatures.

“Alright, so my questions will be focused on getting to know you – because I have the events, so does the rest of New York. It’s all research, and nothing is personal. My publisher insisted that you sign a waiver.”

Plantagenet looked at the papers and pen that Crusoe indicated and, having placed the pen on the coffee table, picked up the papers and leafed through them with his good hand, scanning them as Crusoe continued to talk.

“Essentially, you release the interview and any information into my interpretation and don’t sue down the road. Not that suing gets anyone anywhere these days. No one has money and everyone sues. Did you know some woman sued a fast food place for spilling hot coffee in her own lap? What a county, I tell ya. It makes me wonder what I was fighting for.”

Richard couldn't help a small chuckle at Crusoe's comment on suing - he knew all too well how true this was. Turning to the appropriate page, he set the papers down on the table once more and signed them in his usual scrawl. It was only as he set the pen down that something else Crusoe said seemed to register in his mind.

"What a country this is, indeed. If you don't mind my asking, you say that you fought? When was this? I only ask since I myself fought in the Gulf War - but I'm sure you already knew that." This was said with a wry smile - Crusoe had said he had all the events he wished to discuss in mind already, and Richard presumed this aspect of the political situation would be one of them.

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Sunny was a bit relieved when his subject signed the paperwork. He didn’t like subterfuge. He could pretend, but there was always some form of truth to it. But now that everything was signed, sealed, and ready to go, he could study him and make notes like he wanted to. He already knew that this was going to be a great story, and a great character, but now he was really in the mindset. Richard Plantagenet was perfect.

"What a country this is, indeed. If you don't mind my asking, you say that you fought? When was this? I only ask since I myself fought in the Gulf War - but I'm sure you already knew that."

Oh, he was aware of this. It was among all the things that he had read over when he’d been preparing to speak with the ex-mayor. It was impressive, but it was also something that had clearly taken a toll on his body.

“I was aware of that, yes,” Sunny replied, moving so he could sit on the arm of the free chair. He didn’t like being too comfortable. “I’m a Naval engineer, so I served on ship in the Pacific. Of course, everyone was on high alert with all the terrorist activity for the last decade. Our ship mainly kept an eye on North Korea, pulled doctors out of the drink, you know the deal. Big ship, little country, and you get good behaviour.”

It wasn’t combat, but he still considered it to be part of the fight. Sometimes preventing the carnage was more important than wading hip deep into it. Of course, the Marines got all the glory there, but then they also had a lot more risk to their lives. It was one of those cosmic things that just worked out the way it did. Like everything tasting like chicken and ketchup being the main condiment for reasons he couldn’t understand. Mustard was way better.

“Let’s start there, since we happen to have a connection. Tell me – what prompted you to join the military? What was going through your head?”

From what he’d read, Richard’s arm had been a problem before the war, but he’d still fought, in turn causing his leg to be damaged. Surely there were more able bodied men to go fight, so Sunny was interested. For himself, it had been as simple as getting away – running away. Surely, he would have had a better rationality.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

“I was aware of that, yes,”

Richard watched as Crusoe moved to sit on the arm of the chair, frowning inwardly at his unusual behaviour but deigning it best not to mention it.

“I’m a Naval engineer, so I served on ship in the Pacific. Of course, everyone was on high alert with all the terrorist activity for the last decade. Our ship mainly kept an eye on North Korea, pulled doctors out of the drink, you know the deal. Big ship, little country, and you get good behaviour.”

Richard smiled and nodded in reply - he did indeed know the deal. However, as much as he would have liked to question Crusoe further about his experience with the Navy, it was not long before the historian had turned the questions back to the intended interview.

“Let’s start there, since we happen to have a connection. Tell me – what prompted you to join the military? What was going through your head?”

He laughed then - he couldn't help it. What was going through his head - what a question. What a good question. He wasn't even sure he could answer it accurately. What had been going through his head when he decided to abandon his family in New York, to recklessly go and fight in a war under the banner of his adopted country - to fight in a war that would result in such injury as he had sustained?

Granted, he couldn't have seen the consequences, but he should have been intelligent enough to anticipate them. But he hadn't been thinking clearly, that was the point. He had been irrational, foolish, using the war as a desperate means of escape from the supposed banality of his governmental work...and in his absence the Lancastrians had attempted their coup...

But running away, escaping - it sounded foolish, it had been foolish, but it was the truth. Richard was not adverse to lying - he had no desire to make a poor impression, after all. he would be self deprecating, naturally, but come up with a better reason for his actions than his own foolish whim.

"As I'm sure you are aware, the Yorkist political party, with which myself and my family have been affiliated for as long as I can recall, is a militant one. Less so now, but at that time we were still engaged in a feud with our rivals, the party of Lancaster. As there had been a truce between us for years by the time the war began - an uneasy one, but a truce nonetheless - I felt...I'm not sure how accurately I can put this...as though I wasn't doing my duty to my family or to the party by remaining uninvolved. Looking back on it now, I realize I was thinking irrationally but despite what my foolish decision cost me, I don't regret my actions. I fought in the tradition of my party, in order to help my adopted country in whatever way I could."

There, let no-one accuse Richard Plantagenet of being unable to come up with a believable and partially truthful fabrication.

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

"As I'm sure you are aware, the Yorkist political party, with which myself and my family have been affiliated for as long as I can recall, is a militant one. Less so now, but at that time we were still engaged in a feud with our rivals, the party of Lancaster. As there had been a truce between us for years by the time the war began - an uneasy one, but a truce nonetheless - I felt...I'm not sure how accurately I can put this...as though I wasn't doing my duty to my family or to the party by remaining uninvolved. Looking back on it now, I realize I was thinking irrationally but despite what my foolish decision cost me, I don't regret my actions. I fought in the tradition of my party, in order to help my adopted country in whatever way I could."

Alright. He was learning. He really didn’t care about all this political mumbo jumbo. It was fact finding that he would do later and he’d have to make it all up anyway. However, what he’d learned from all this was interesting. The man was long winded. He was proper. He had a long memory, probably a longer grudge. He was rather fascinating.

“Well, as long as you have no regrets, then it wasn’t a poor decision, was it?” Sunny offered, thinking that he’d had his fair share of those.

He regretted some things he shouldn’t, and more than he was supposed to. The biggest regret he had was not pushing his gran into Chemo, drawing out her life, possibly curing her so she’d still be here. After that, he’d had a slew of bad decisions. Joining the Navy, marrying Susannah, snipping at Admiral what’s his nut, talking to the people who weren’t there when the doctor had come out to evaluate him on the island, putting his Xanex in the same bottle as his Lithium (what a pain in the ass that had turned out to be)...Yes, far too many bad decisions, some regret, but he always kept moving on. Much like Plantagenet kept moving along.

“So, you have strong ties to your party.”

Honestly, people didn’t go to war for things that they didn’t have strong ties to, so it was a stupid comment in his mind. Still, he was a stranger – a Haole in this city. He wasn’t up on how the politics worked. Of course, he wouldn’t let this guy know that, otherwise he’d start questioning why Sunny was qualified to be writing this history and what not.

“Did that influence you in any way when it came to running for Mayor? I’m sure that it was good for the party.”

It was important to know how ingrained these things were in his mind. If everything was for the party, rather than for himself, he’d have to take that into consideration when it came to motivation. Motivation was key, after all. Motivation was the base of the human condition – the disease that pressed people to do what they had to in order to both survive and excel. Plantagenet had certainly managed to do both.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

“Well, as long as you have no regrets, then it wasn’t a poor decision, was it?”

Richard couldn't help but crack a smile at this - he had never really thought of it in that way before. Granted, as much as he hadn't regretted his decision at the time, his injuries and the years of regret following the war more than made up for it. Surely it was a poor decision for what it had cost him, and all his regrets now? Yet at the time, it hadn't felt like a poor decision... Complications.

“So, you have strong ties to your party.”

Clearly, Richard thought. But he said nothing, waiting instead to see what Crusoe would make of the information afforded him, and where the conversation would next lead. So far, so good. Nothing too difficult about which to fabricate the usual lies. The time would come soon enough though, and he would have to be prepared.

He nodded, by way of an answer.

“Did that influence you in any way when it came to running for Mayor? I’m sure that it was good for the party.”

Richard nodded again, subconsciously sitting a little straighter even at the mention of his previous position in government. It was true, his family's influence within the party had played a part in his running for Mayor - a minimal part, but a part nonetheless. No, what had influenced him in running for Mayor was ambition, a hunger for power, a need for gratification. But he wasn't about to tell Crusoe that.

"It was good for the party, indeed, but that wasn't all that inspired me in running for the position. I wanted to do what I could to continue the legacy of my late brother, Edward."

If by 'continue' one meant 'destroy'.

"He had done a lot of good for the city during his years in office, and his untimely death meant he couldn't finish what he had begun."

Richard was careful to sound appropriately reverent as he said these words - even after these few years since the murder, to the public eye he and Edward had been so close in their bonds of brotherhood - it was only natural that the mention of him would still bring his youngest brother grief.

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

OOC: My concentration is still not here, haha. So a rambly Sunny post seemed to fit my state of mind!

It wasn’t lost on Sunny that mentioning his past position of Mayor seemed to get more engagement out of Plantagenet. He straightened up and stopped with the silent nods. That was good, Sunny supposed. He didn’t like yes men. Men who just said ‘yes’ because it was an easy answer he wanted to see. Yes men and even the odd No men were really annoying, actually. At least it seemed like this interviewee wasn’t in that category. However, seeing as how this is where the man perked, Sunny was sure of two things – thing one was that he probably had regrets about losing that job, and thing two was that even if it was for the party, the man had personally taken pride in the job for whatever reason. They were good things to note.

"It was good for the party, indeed, but that wasn't all that inspired me in running for the position. I wanted to do what I could to continue the legacy of my late brother, Edward. He had done a lot of good for the city during his years in office, and his untimely death meant he couldn't finish what he had begun."

Ah, Edward. He’d read about him. The man was a good politician, and from what he’d read of the guy’s personality, Sunny was sure he was a riot. Richard, not so much. The man held himself like there was a stick up his posterior keeping him straight. He’d have to open the windows and see if he’d teeter under a strong wind gust.

No, he wouldn’t do that. He was supposed to be on his best behavior. He wasn’t allowed to interview anyone else important if he couldn’t keep it together and behave with this one. But he was so stiff and boring that Sunny felt the temptation, even under the pill induced lack of energy that he was dealing with. Had he been off his meds, he probably would have shoved the man just to see if he’d bounce back like one of those blow-up boxing clowns...

He’d have to have Tuesday buy him one of those. They seemed like they’d be good for a laugh until he developed some strange clown phobia....

Oh, and ex-Mayor Plantagenet was talking before Sunny had run off with his thoughts...he looked a bit sad by whatever he was talking about, but it was rehearsed in the mirror sad. He used to do that when he was bored on the Island, could spot it a mile off. Interesting.

“I’m sure you did a fine job. The city ran well under your watchful eye,” Sunny managed to pick up the conversation, fingers drumming lazily on his thigh. “It wasn’t until after you’d been let go that the stock market slumped. Tell me, why do you think it happened so suddenly into Mayor Tormei’s reign?”

It was a fair question. It was suspicious how poor the new mayor’s luck seemed to be there, especially when he had gathered that the market had no signs of moving into a downward swing. It was the kind of thing his character would gloat over, the kind of thing that he would have orchestrated himself. Glancing over the other man, Sunny was sure this man didn’t gloat. That didn’t mean that he could have been a part of the market’s collapse. In fact, it was a good cover, seeing as how he probably had no idea...

Peanut butter. Yes, that was what he’d been craving since breakfast! A scoop straight from the jar. Maybe even on bread, or Spam...

Now he’d lost his concentration again. It was a good thing that everything was being recorded. Still, he’d have to throw something out there to prove he was paying attention.

“I mean, it seems like fortunate timing for you, but not so much for him.”

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

ooc: Rambly it may have been but it was brilliantly rambly! The idea of Sunny shoving Ricky, the question about the stock market (dun dun dun) and THIS: 'he looked a bit sad by whatever he was talking about, but it was rehearsed in the mirror sad.' - all fantastic, all brilliant. ;D I only hope this post is worth the wait! Also, I don't pretend to know much about economics and the specifics of Ricky's job description, so if it doesn't make sense, I apologise!

bic:

“I’m sure you did a fine job. The city ran well under your watchful eye,”

Richard smiled at this, breaking from his previous mournful demeanour. A small smile, nothing outlandish despite his inner amusement at Crusoe's misconception. Yes, things were bad now, but they had been worse when he was in power. But he was glad Crusoe wasn't under that impression - or, if he was, he wasn't saying it to his face. It made a pleasant change.

“It wasn’t until after you’d been let go that the stock market slumped. Tell me, why do you think it happened so suddenly into Mayor Tormei’s reign?”

Ah.

Richard had expected this topic to come up, but not so soon. None of his shock or apprehension showed in his face however - if anything, his expression and posture remained the same. He hadn't started or shown surprise at the question outwardly - to do so would have been a clear indication of guilt.

“I mean, it seems like fortunate timing for you, but not so much for him.”

Richard nodded, his smile now wry before it vanished as he appeared to think over the question. He did indeed need to think about it a little - how best to answer? Even though he wasn't about to confess to what he had done, he was the city's comptroller - he knew all there was to know about the city's finances and controlled them, to an extent. He couldn't give a poor answer to a question pertaining so closely to his current office.

"That is certainly true. It's a difficult thing to try and explain - although I work with the city's finances I'm responsible for overseeing the quality of accounting and financial organization - I can't really explain how the stock market slumped, that's another matter entirely. I don't control it."

He paused before speaking again.

"But as for why I think it happened, and so suddenly at that..." He shook his head, smiling a little once again, his manner incredulous. "The market can be unpredictable sometimes, that's all I can really tell you."

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

He was thinking about an answer. Sunny watched, almost able to see the cogs spinning in his brain. It was kind of fascinating, especially because he wasn’t showing any real change in emotion or facial movements, though the smile he was sporting was gone, presumably because of the change of topic to something more serious. No, just his eyes had changed. They were the windows to the soul and his soul was coming up with something he could reply with that wouldn’t be either suspicious or the truth. Interesting. Yes, this was exactly how his book character would act. He’d get away with so much because of it.

"That is certainly true. It's a difficult thing to try and explain - although I work with the city's finances I'm responsible for overseeing the quality of accounting and financial organization - I can't really explain how the stock market slumped, that's another matter entirely. I don't control it."

Sunny didn’t pretend to understand economics, what with made up money figures, principles, and interest was a nightmare. He didn’t even understand his chequing account or how he managed to unbalance it when he swore he didn’t even own a chequebook. He let someone else take care of all those little things while he got his allowance and counted the pennies in his change jar every so often. He liked his change jar – they were real coins and figures and he could manage them. He’d have to roll a few hundred and buy some peanut butter after all this was over with. Maybe he could con his agent into buying him a jar with a bag of Oreos and pickles. Or maybe a pizza. Peanut butter could go on pizza.

"But as for why I think it happened, and so suddenly at that...the market can be unpredictable sometimes, that's all I can really tell you."

Well, now that was diplomatic. He’d have to go talk to someone who understood things like that later to see if Plantagenet was bullshitting him or not. Perhaps this is something he should have known more about before he asked the question, but hey, he didn’t see it as a serious mistake.

“Economists have speculated that despite the uncertainty of the market, someone’s been tampering with the system. Do you think that’s the case?” he threw out there, not knowing if anyone was saying that speculatively, but he wanted to see what he’d get from the man.

If he were writing the man’s life as a story, he more than likely would have had a hand in it, if not have orchestrated the whole thing. Too bad he hadn’t written this guy’s life. There’d certainly be more car chases in his version. And he’d have a body guard named Bubba who he’d refuse to call Bubba, but instead address him as Mr. Jones or something. Bubba would be menacing and standing in the hallway, facing off with Tuesday as they waited for the interview to be over. And Tuesday could take him if he’d ever agree to let Sunny teach him how to fight dirty, but the guy could be a prude when he wanted to. Bubba: 1, Tuesday playing fair: 0.

“And if that is the case, who would you speculate could be behind such a plot?”

He was tempted to throw out that it was the Czech mafia. He was developing them for a book with his fake new best friend, Osric, as the protagonist/spy/music geek. He wasn’t so sure they could manage this, but it would be an interesting plot twist.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

ooc: BUBBA! Oh my goodness, hahahaha, that made me laugh so so much when I first read it! Oh, brilliant. Brilliant stuff. Bubba. Hahaha. XD

Anyway...

bic:

Richard was feeling quite pleased with himself and how he had handled the last question levied at him. He had thought, his answer given, that would be the end of that particular thread of the conversation, and Mr. Crusoe would move onto another topic, more related to the history he was allegedly writing about. However, Crusoe seemed determined to remain in the present.

“Economists have speculated that despite the uncertainty of the market, someone’s been tampering with the system. Do you think that’s the case?”

He frowned a little at this despite his previous attempts to remain impassive - as to his knowledge (and no one would deny, whether they liked him or not, that he was a knowledgeable sort) there was no such speculation current amongst the economists. He was admittedly surprised at this but, considering his role in the economic downturn, he wasn't about the question it or suggest they looked into the matter.

“And if that is the case, who would you speculate could be behind such a plot?”

"I was not aware of any such speculation," Richard replied, evenly, not wanting to sound as though he were accusing Crusoe of making things up (despite the fact he was). It would no good to be rude to the man if only due to what he was writing - Crusoe could revenge any slight in a very lasting way through his book. Richard wasn't one to risk such infamy. "And therefore I am not inclined to think that is the case."

He paused. Then,

"However, if it was the case, which I highly doubt, the culprit behind the plot would, I suspect, be someone wishing to discredit Mayor Tormei. Then again, it could simply be the work of someone who tampered with the system simply because they had the power to do so, not for any particular reason other than to see what effect it would have. Perhaps a combination of both motives, I couldn't say."

Although Richard was well aware his own speculations were far too close to his reality, he couldn't help but be intrigued by Crusoe's method of conducting the interview and his response to the answers given to him. Hence his somewhat foolhardy reply.

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Richard was cool, Sunny would give him that. Not the kind of cool that a kid would say after they’d been asked something that needed more than a one word answer, but cool like a man who just stole the last cookie and was being glared at by his babysitter over it. Oh, Tuesday had not been happy when he’d munched on the last Wookie Cookie last week and the glare he got...Sunny wished he could have pulled off cool nearly as well as Richard. As it was, he broke like a fortune cookie, laughing loudly and then trying to deny it. Tuesday hadn’t bought it. Maybe if he had have been cool about it, then he would have gotten away with it.

That made him wonder what Plantagenet was hoping to get away with.

"I was not aware of any such speculation, and therefore I am not inclined to think that is the case."

“I’m not aware of what makes up DNA, but not being inclined to believe it exists doesn’t get me far,” Sunny blurted, thinking it was one of those things that made no sense. Invisible bits of information that people left behind was...well, it was science fiction and he’d always been more of a fantasy guy. Or westerns. Maybe he’d write one. It would be about a cowboy who...hated rabbits. People would watch that. He’d throw Clint Eastwood in there and was John Wayne still alive? He’d have someone else find out that detail later.

"However, if it was the case, which I highly doubt, the culprit behind the plot would, I suspect, be someone wishing to discredit Mayor Tormei. Then again, it could simply be the work of someone who tampered with the system simply because they had the power to do so, not for any particular reason other than to see what effect it would have. Perhaps a combination of both motives, I couldn't say."

Oh, right. Yes, well, he almost forgot he was sitting and talking with someone else. He’d have to be more on the ball. And he’d have to talk to Mayor Tormei at some point about all the things he had buzzing around his head. Maybe the things he was asking Plantagenet would make more sense to the man than they did to him.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s probably some bored kid in his mother’s basement,” Sunny offered, thinking he wasn’t going to get much else out of the man when it came to this line of questioning.

That was alright – he had a whole hat full of questions.

“So, back on task – how’s your love life?” Sunny asked, slipping down so that he was lounging in his chair without a care in the world, one leg over the arm, his one arm thrown over the back cushion. “Still married to Anne? Tell me a bit about the pair of you.”

Anne Plantagenet, once Anne Lancaster. She was reportedly quite the woman, able to keep up with the man in front of him. She was an interest to him, seeing as how the woman behind the man was probably a bigger part of the puzzle that made up this man than he was sure of. Now it was just getting the man’s thoughts on it.

He suddenly wished he had a tub of popcorn. This was bound to be entertaining.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s probably some bored kid in his mother’s basement,”

Richard laughed, partly from relief that this particular kine of questioning appeared to have ceased and, he had to admit, partly from amusement. The very idea that a child could have achieved what he had was ridiculous, but if Crusoe was willing to believe that then Richard would let him. After all, if was better that he suspected something hypothetical rather than the truth.

“So, back on task – how’s your love life?”

If Richard had been taken aback by Crusoe's previous line of enquiry, it was nothing to how he felt when the man broached this topic, and as much as he would have wished to hide it, his expression clearly showed his surprise. Crusoe's more casual position on the chair - lounging, more than anything else - did not help - it was as though he were at home watching the television and he, Richard, were a mind-numbing reality show, or something of that ilk.

He attempted to make his expression more neutral as Crusoe continued to talk - suddenly finding himself thankful Crusoe wasn't filming him, for he was sure his reaction had been far too obvious on this point - and adjusted his own stance on the chair, sitting, if possible, even more upright than before.

“Still married to Anne? Tell me a bit about the pair of you.”

Richard's replied as stiffly as he sat.

"Yes, I am, but I don't believe asking about my marriage is 'on task'."

[SUNNY CRUSOE]

Sunny held in a childish giggle, but just barely. He was starting to feel a bit of joy by making Richard sweat. That was a sure sign that his pills were wearing off. Tuesday was right – he should have taken them closer to the meeting, but what was done was done and all that nonsense. He was doing alright. He hadn’t done anything too out of the ordinary, after all.

"Yes, I am, but I don't believe asking about my marriage is 'on task'."

Well, he supposed that last question seemed out of the ordinary to the other man, if that answer was anything to go by. And he was much more uptight than he was a minute ago. It was like someone tightened the screws on that post he was sure was shoved up the guy’s posterior.

“Of course it’s on task. Most people judge a man by his marriage. After all, it’s just a different kind of business.”

And that was a good line. He should write a book about marriage, even if his own wasn’t all that successful. Hmm, maybe he should write a book about divorce. He knew much more about that than he cared to.

“It’s all a part of the big picture as to who you were when you were mayor. I’m sure your wife has a much better idea of who you are than most other people. So, tell me a bit about life with Anne.”

He tugged a bit at the ridiculous tie he’d been told to wear and waited to see what was going to happen with Richard. And if he didn’t get any good answers from him, maybe he’d have to go straight to the woman behind the man and pester her for some answers. And from the things he’d heard about her on his own, he was sure she would be quite the interesting woman to talk to. He was sure that Richard knew that, too, and she was probably the last person that he wanted Sunny to talk to.