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WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, ERIDANUS SUNGAZER. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 099.23.886.00 * Archmage has joined 099.23.886.00 <Archmage> Hello, this is Eridanus Sungazer. <Archmage> In the event I am currently unavailable, please leave a message. <Archmage>** I will answer back, promptly. If I feel you are worth the trouble.

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[There's a lot of things about Fiddleford that people don't expect if they first meet him over text. Text really does not get across the full experience of Fiddleford McGucket.]

Oh, sure. McGucket Labs over in the business district of Bavan. We started out doin' small appliance repair but now that there's more hands on deck we're branchin' out to programmin' and things like that. Can't compete with Liewen so we might as well piggyback on their tech for profit, right?

[Technically he could totally compete with Liewen, but it seems unwise to try. They're too entrenched and the monster population depends on them too heavily. Making a different brand of computer would require setting up an entire second network considering the current one is 1. magical and 2. proprietary. One little lab just doesn't have the infrastructure for that, especially when every other month there's some disaster that necessitates extensive repairs. That really eats into the budget.]

Here, go ahead and put that wine down in the dining room-- right to the left there. I'm not goin' to make you carry it around all night. We have about, oh, five or so minutes left on the chili.

[Sure enough there's an open archway to the left that leads into a dining room. There's a long wooden table in it but only chairs arranged along one side and at the ends. Fiddleford is his own chair, after all, and there's a lot of him. No point to moving them out of the way every time they have company. It's already set with two places, but perhaps a lot less silverware than Eridanus might be accustomed to. In the center is what looks like an old water pitcher that has been filled with sprigs of rosemary. Fiddleford has always been a little more inclined to nest than Marco and that means the house has taken on a lot of his decorative sensibilities, and a lot of those happen to be Quaint.

Right now, of course, he's needed in the kitchen. It's visible from the dining room through yet another archway and has a similar feeling of being at once more modern than a lot of Ryslig and yet not strictly modern. The cabinets are all a rich wood, there's a brass pot rack hanging from the ceiling, it's a whole look.]

[The home, from the inside, is more than what Eridanus had expected. In reality, the architecture is something he is entirely unfamiliar with. It's reminiscent of the farmhouses that could be found in the forests that surround the human capital, though since it has been roughly five centuries since the last time he had set foot in the kingdom's of man, who knows how much even that architecture has changed. His observant gaze falls away from the many pictures and small trinkets that decorate the home, and instead settles on the half man-half snake before him. There is a moment where Eridanus wonders if the tail meant that Fiddleford is technically half naked.]

I have never met a man of science so well experienced that wasn't goblin or gnomish. [He admits, and his gaze follows Fiddleford's through the doorway to their left.

As instructed, he quietly steps into the designated dinning room, and sets the bottle of wine on the table. He wasn't sure exactly what they would be having for dinner, though if the scent now is anything to go by, he was happy he picked a nice dry red. Once more, his verdant gaze took in his surroundings, noticing the curious situation of chairs, and the quaint decoration of the room. Despite the size, there was certainly one way to describe this place: homey.

He then follows after Fiddleford, stepping into the kitchen where the heavy scent of meat and spice hits his nose. He would have been lying if he said his mouth didn't water slightly, and it had been so long since he'd had a properly seasoned meal. As he steps behind Fiddleford at the stove, he peeks curiously over his shoulder, like a child eager to see what was being made.]

I have never had chili before, what is in it? [He asks, taking a heavy whiff of the savory steam that plumes out from under the metal lid as it's lifted.]

[The pants problem was one that used to bother Fiddleford a lot too, at the beginning. There was never really a good solution to it. Oversized clothing might have draped down far enough to make up the difference, but he's not a child wearing his big brother's hand-me-downs anymore. Skirts crossed his mind, but he's just too firmly entrenched in 'man from the seventies' to be comfortable in one. Ultimately nobody can tell where his junk is unless he directs them to it, so he's resigned himself to just pretending it's a non-issue. He barely even thinks about it anymore. Most people are wholly distracted by his awful shirts anyway.]

Oh, a little of everythin'. Beef -- no human it this time. [He could be convinced in future, but then it gets into the logistics of butchering up a whole person and where would he put the leftovers and y'know, it'd just be a whole thing. The way he eats usually cuts out that kind of prepwork. He doesn't have a freezer equipped for that kind of meat storage yet.] Onion, garlic, green peppers, tomatoes, a whole mess of beans. Spices, but I'm not tellin' you exactly which, that's a family secret.

[The secret is it's basically all of them, a lot. And moonshine, but that should have cooked away by now.]

I had a run-in with gnomes once. Awful little critters. Real sharp teeth.

[Eridanus' lip curls into a wincing snarl as a particularly spicy plume of steam fogs his glasses and itches the back of his throat. Taking a cautious step backwards, he pulls his glasses from his face and rubs the smooth back of his opal hand against his eye.]

I'm eager to try it. I've yet to have anything appropriately spiced since arriving in Ryslig, and my palate is dying for flavor. [After all, he wasn't really a cook, and Rosefica did not have access to the typical spices they would use in their homeland's cuisine.

Once the tears at the corners of his eyes were wiped away, Eridanus replaced his glasses. The bit about the gnomes was... odd.] I have never known their kind to be particularly malicious. At most, their cheery attitudes were annoying.

[If punting them were not looked down upon, he would have done so to every gnome that crossed his path.] So are you working on any new or interesting programs, then?

[For a long moment Fiddleford considers launching into the 'everyone here is from different worlds so things are going to work differently depending on who you talk to' talk, but thinks better of it. It's not hard to pick up on naturally after a while, and he likes talking about his business more when it comes down to it.]

Well, neither of them are technically public knowledge yet, but we have some things in the pipeline. We have a virtual pet game we're workin' on version 3.0 of, and Larry -- I don't know if you've met, Larry Laffer? -- he's headin' up somethin' totally new. Now that the laptops have much better display capabilities makin' desktop games just makes sense.

The desktop version of the pets're free, by the by, if you want to try 'em out.

[Eridanus already doesn't strike him as the kind of guy who'd be particularly interested in a cute little blob of pixels wandering around his screen, but you never know.]

[Eridanus doesn't even know what a video game is Fiddleford, and honestly he is not so concerned with this lack of knowledge that he even graces it with inquisition. Instead, a tight, polite smile makes its residence on his visage, and he nods in quiet feigned understanding.]

I see, it sounds as if you have your hands full making Ryslig a more fun place.

[And there isn't even sarcasm in that! Eridanus is impressed that, with everything bad going on in this place, there are some who care enough to create wholesome experiences. Especially for the children.]

I have met Larry, capricious man that one. He had the audacity to insinuate that I want to sleep with my wife's best friend. I loathe that man. He's been a wart in my life the second he's come into it. [As he speaks his ears pin back, his runty tail flicking back and forth in irritation. He also doesn't mention that after his wife's death, he did sleep with him once. Though it was purely out of grief.] Absolutely absurd. The man has no likeable qualities.

[Fiddleford is very much of the opinion that people deserve good things here. Being able to survive is important, and probably the first thing anybody ought to address. But just surviving isn't enough. He remembers what it was like when he felt almost obligated to be miserable because he thought that proved he was still human. Now with a little more perspective he feels like that's bullshit. People, human or not, deserve nice things. Like chili! There's a reason he still cooks and eats normal food even though he really doesn't have to.

At such a succinct takedown of his new project manager, Fiddleford snorts.]

Aw, now, I wouldn't go that far. You've just never seen his code. It's like watchin' a man remake the Mona Lisa in variables. You tell him you want somethin', turn him loose, and a couple hours later he's got it done.

[Which is kind of the life story with Larry Laffer, not that Fiddleford would know that.]

He's a little blue for my tastes sometimes but the work ethic makes up for it. And speakin' of work-- [He gives the chili one last stir and, apparently satisfied, shifts back a little.] I think we're ready to go here. Everythin' else is all set out on the table already but you'll probably want to make your bowl here first, this pot ain't movin'.

[He made a lot. You can't not make a lot of chili. That's now how chili works.]

[Behind the thin-brimmed glasses that sit low on Eridanus' aquiline nose, his bridge wrinkles with distaste. While they had only had one conversation, it was enough for him to know that he would have to be incredibly inebriated in order to enjoy Larry's company. Unfortunately, even Fiddleford's attempts to rein in that displeasure falls on deaf ears, though not entirely in part for Eridanus' stubbornness. It's mostly because he barely understands the jargon that has just streamed past Fiddleford's lips, with words like 'code' and 'variable' holding vastly different meanings in the troll-elf's repertoire.]

I will have to take your word for it. [He concedes as he steps away from Fiddleford's shoulder to see which cabinet the bowls and spoons are pulled from. There's an idle curiosity to his verdant gaze, though it seems it's knowledge for knowledge's sake as the places for things within this home are etched into his memory.]

At least he has work ethic, I'm sure that's difficult to find in your employees here. [Everyone seems to have their own agenda, at least from his own observation. Though even the prelude to this meeting was on the basis of them being future coworkers. Eridanus wonders for a moment, just how well a monster school will work?

Quietly, and by Fiddleford's direction, Eridanus spoons out a generous amount of chili into his bowl. The scent is divine, urging hunger pangs through his gut as just the spice alone is enough to coax his mouth to water. He was typically not so enthusiastic to eat, yet for some odd reason, he can't help but feel giddy to try a bite. How lucky is he then, that a spot falls onto his thumb, and he's all too eager to stick it in his mouth for a taste. The chili is cleaned off, and the rich spicy taste entices his mouth to water further. With an excited wagging of his runty tail, Eridanus tries his best to hide his anticipation.]

Shall we bring glasses for the wine, too?

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when will Eridanus play Minecraft, killing me instantly

Play: Minecraft Eating Soundbit