Sole Purpose

[Teeramus]

Striker started talking as he finished a mouthful "Ahh. Mate. They're not mad at me. Just doin' their jobs ay. If ya screw up they gotta let you know right. Speakin' of which ya gotta be careful doin' stuff that's not real probable. Like that kid's ride suddenly workin' better. I dunno, but that might be borderline ay. The big wigs'll have your guts for garters if they catch ya ay. And that Aquinas, you try anything on him an' I reckon you'd be lucky if you still knew where you were."

The shamans face became serious as he continued. "An' mate. You can't just stuff around all the time right. You need to make yourself useful ay. We're all in this together an' everyone's gotta pull their weight. It's not about blamin' anyone, it's about being the best you can be." He wasn't sure where he was going, but it felt like it had to be said.

[Falstaff]

"Useful? I . . . I'm useful . . . sort of . . . sometimes, I think. Well, one time . . . How do you be useful? Like if you were you, I mean you are you, so how are you useful?" He coughs, rubs at the back of his neck. "And, say if you were me, then how would you be useful? See, I thought I already was the best I could be." He is pretty good at being him.

Guess you're bound to be a serious dude, what with one arm. Falstaff's not entirely sure what's wrong with fixing a carousel, maybe because the carousel is a lie, and so it being broken is a lie, and . . . Maybe he ought to stick to pretzels, not pretzel sticks, but, well, just pretzels. And mustard.

[Teeramus]

Striker gave Falstaff a considering look for a few seconds as he seemed to contradict himself.

"So you're not an asset, but you are useful? Or your not an arse, ass, but your not useful eiher?" The Australian asked hypothetically. "Look I don't know ya mate, but I'm with the A. A. So I beat stuff up and fix up me mates mainly. But I can fix stuff too, like mechanical things." he said finishing the last bite of pretzel.

"Look I'm not tryin' to tell ya what to do, I'm just sayin'... I dunno." he suddenly smiled at the Acanthus. "Maybe I'm just full of it ay?" he finished saying before dipping his finger into the mustard and sticking it in his mouth for one last taste of the delicious condiment.

[Falstaff]

"You're full?" Good, they're out of pretzel. "Umm . . . I don't understand what you're not telling me to do--sorry. You're saying I should be up bad guys and fix mates and mechanical things? Never done much of any of that. He thinks. "I am with the ee-Fray council-Cay . . . but we don't do much yet. Especially me."

[Teeramus]

"I'm not tryin' to tell... I'm telling ya... I'm just tryin' to say..." Striker said trying to figure out what the little man thought he was or wasn't saying. "Just suggesting you try an' make yourself useful is all. Alright?" he settled on finally, giving Falstaff a quick glare of frustration.

He stood, brushing pretzel crumbs out of the creases in his jeans and secured the plastic bag holding his new shoes again. "Thanks for the pretzel ay." he said his demeanour having lost all trace of frustration and showing only genuine thanks. "Now I gotta figure out where I left my bike soes I can get home."

Opportunity to start wrapping if you want. If you want to keep going, no worries, just do so. After all there is fun to be had getting lost in a shopping centre. Up to you.

[Falstaff]

Falstaff listens closely, and afterwards, his foolishness seems to slip away, if only for a moment. "I've never been truly convinced that if one can do something, there is some moral imperative to do so, or that utility is the measure of a thing, not the thing for its own sake, even if that thing is a fool." He nods, his big grin returning. "Of course my spiritual totem is probably the sloth--a big fat one. I'll think about what you said. Maybe we could get a pretzel again some time, at the very least." He's back to full-fool again. "I'm off to get a Magic 8 Ball to make all my major life decisions--delegation, you see, is a power principal to corporate CEOs and fools . . . if they are different things . . . not at all claiming to a corporate CEO . . . or anything you can spell with three letters . . . except maybe F-U-N . . . or A-S-S."

Let's wrap and scene again soon. I'm looking for some convincing motive force to get Falstaff into the fight, and Striker might be that. Thanks for the invite!

[Teeramus]

Striker listened to Falstaff's convoluted opinion trying to follow along. "So something can be valuable without being immediately useful?" He replied before shrugged in deference. "Yeah maybe." He conceeded before giving the other mage a friendly nod and starting to turn away.

"Look after yourself ay." He called out before walking in the direction he was sure would lead to his bike. Could he have trusted Fate to help him find it? Maybe. Would he have been comfortable doing that? No. Not yet anyway.

Excellent scene thanks!