Hey who the hell is this guy? (Open & Closed)

[quizpersona]

Who: A man who isn't going by "Gogol" right now
Where: Aldrip (now with better accuracy!) The Inn, an abandoned house at the edges of town, at a diner.
What: The assorted shenanigans related to a certain local murder clown who has faked his own perma-death to assume a different identity. There will be various toplevels in the comments. This is "closed-ish" because it's not 100% closed but there's a lot of ooc plotting and scheming going on so please come join in on the plotting scheming instead of blitzing in with a "hey you guys that's obviously Gogol" when other people are investigating.

Getting short-lived CR with the nice, helpful, and well-mannered salaryman is 100% open though because frankly that's funny.

Edit: now including a top level for his sentencing failure.

Warnings: Kidnapping, nsfw dialogue, law advice for the dubious, torture (includes finger trauma).

Comments

[bonobos]

[ sha-ming’s lips furl up at that — there’s a slow cant of the head, eyes alight with amusement. ]

Don’t worry. [ … ] I don’t mind if you look.

[ and then the poor salaryman speaks with an undercurrent of resentment, voice a tad severe. sha-ming’s expression does not fade. ]

Mmm… you’re right. I don’t talk this way to everyone… ‘specially men. You must be special? Maybe I’m just really into you…

[ his gaze is cutting, like he’s hoping to peer right into nikolai’s soul. sadly… he isn’t here right now!

but sure, he’ll follow — not so overtly, but he does trail behind him, footsteps quiet and evasive. he watches as this poor man shovels a seemingly random assortment of clothing into his own arms — and then he musters the courage to speak at long last, and sha-ming has to wonder if nikolai is going to bounce back to his old self, whip around and give him one hell of a jumpscare— ]

Sure thing, Mister. What would ya like?

[quizpersona]

[ The glasses don't need readjusting for another additional time, and yet his hand flies up to adjust them again.

"You must be special?"
In his long and, unbeknownst to the Salary Man himself, entirely fictionalized life— he hasn't known anyone who has referred to him as special. Nothing about that existence even remotely resembles it because it is wholly mundane in nature. It makes sense for it not to be: there is nothing grand nor extraordinary about a secretary's life work otherwise his work efforts would've taken him somewhere noteworthy by now. He is no important man.

Being told otherwise with such audacity, even if it may be a lie, makes his intention to direct this stranger's attention elsewhere so he can sneak away shrink inward. In that moment he is the very image of someone who is experiencing cold feet. Finding himself in this situation where he is to back out of deceiving this man imbues him with fear; to avoid causing suspicious or offence he has to think of something else to ask of him on the spot.

He loosens his tie. There is a perfunctory clearing of his throat as he glances down at the bundle of clothing clutched in his arms and he finds his brief salvation from the situation of his own making. ]

...Could you hold these? Only while I check for an open changing room.

[bonobos]

[ the silence that permeates from him lasts two beats longer than it should, and sha-ming’s seemingly dull eyes trace the outline of his face, the crevices and cracks of his features. he wonders what nikolai’s thought of in this exact moment— what’s stalling him in this fraction of a second.

sha-ming looks down at the clothing. then back up, the edges of his mouth curled upwards, a lazy and knowing little grin. ]

Sure thing. You’ll break my heart if you ditch me though, yanno? I could always help you change. Give you a second opinion?

[ the predator is prey. is that what this was? sha-ming steps closer. ]

In another life, [ a beat. ] you’re a cold blooded killer… with a tender heart. You’re always puttin’ on a show, full of flair and theatrics, willing to hurt people for any reason. You’re an apex predator.

But even in that life… you’re really damn lonely, you know? I can see it in your eyes. ‘Course I can… I’m the loneliest loser there is.

[ and there comes a flash of white, roguish and unashamed. ]

You’re the total opposite now… but some things never change, do they?

[ a low hum. ]

Are you miserable, Mr. Salaryman?

[quizpersona]

[ There's very little time afforded for him to fluster at the obvious pass or to feel a deepening guilt over the game plan he didn't even commit to--only thought about. A previously slack jawed mouth straightens into a slight frown. ]

You say a lot of strange things. But this time I think I understand. Are you trying to imply that I've got some sort of alternate personality? [ What? Like jekyll and hyde? The Salaryman huffs softly under his breath. ] ...I'm sorry sir— but I've got to point out that kind of thing only happens that way in fiction. So you— you can't actually be serious.

[ His shoulders droop. What does it say about him when he hasn't excuse himself yet? Probably that he doesn't actually want to be left alone again even if the company is strange and off-putting. Every second of time that ticks by registers on his conscience. Who doesn't feel a little bit lonely in their adulthood, he reasons with himself. Focusing on that peculiarity affords him the chance to dodge the more hard hitting question. The one regarding his apparent misery. ]

I-, I mean... If you are— then I think you really might have the wrong person. There's no way I can be any of the things you say I am.

[bonobos]

You really think so?

[ sha-ming rocks back onto his heels, head canted and inclined forward with no respect for this man's boundaries -- despite everything, despite how evidently uncomfortable he is, he doesn't protest. isn't that completely and utterly pathetic? so contrary to the nikolai he knew. somehow, it picks at his heart, but he would sooner keel over than admit as much. ]

Fiction? Pretty sure that happens all the time, pal. The human consciousness is a really fragile thing.

[ a thumb sweeps against the lapel of the salaryman's suit, letting the fabric pass between the pads of his fingers. ]

The guy I'm talkin' about... do you wish you were him?

[ his smile makes a comeback, manifesting against the contours of his face, benign in spite of the context. ]

Maybe he wishes he was like you. People like you 'ave practically given up on standing out -- you play the cards you're dealt, think that being a good boy'll get you where you want to be... but that's just not how it works. It's a dog eat dog world, you know? Give anyone the power to crush you and they'll take it.

Mr. Salaryman. Do you wanna be happy?

[quizpersona]

[ Again, it's like this guy is insulting his character for being a lawful and contributing member of society. It's a struggle to maintain a polite facade when all his face wants to do is crumble in a way that shows that he's beginning to actually take some offense here. Every little part of his stiff body language screams of discomfort- to the point that it must be felt physically. At the very least that question is a little easier to stomach answering since it's worded in a more palatable way than the first was. Perhaps that's why he humors it with a response this time. ]

...Of course. Don't most people want to live a happy and fulfilling life?

[ There's a perceptible bafflement in the words, as if it's strange to think about life otherwise. Happiness: he's said so before but— Nikolai would answer this question differently. He would say that he would condemn it again if it meant he got to prove his point about humanity. ]

I don't know him. So I can't say that I do. Uh, especially not because it sounds like you're describing a dangerous criminal? [ The Salaryman then mutters and looks down at the fingers gliding along his lapel. ] Hey, uh, could you please stop that...? You might crease the fabric.

[bonobos]

[ the answer makes him laugh — it’s a low sound, reverberating in his breastbone, warmth lapping at its edges. it’s such a human answer, he can’t really begrudge him for it. ]

Yeah, true enough. I think the universe makes it pretty damn hard though. Don’t you think?

[ then there’s a demand, and sha-ming’s mouth thins out into a bored slat. his fingers part from the suit — he can be a good boy too. ]

Look at ya, giving orders. You’ll be a pro in no time.

[ he’s amused, really, but he isn’t as kind as to give the salaryman a breadth of space either. he’s not quite out of his conversation yet. ]

Do you think not being noticed’ll save you, Mr. Salaryman?

[ there’s a lilt in his voice, like he’s align with the curiosity of a teenage boy, ambling around you, kicking at your ankles. ]

Let’s say there’s a murderer on the loose. And you just watched him kill all your friends. So you hide in the bushes. You can’t come out or else he might do something to you too. So you sit there, useless as all hell, a total coward, watching. You could spend the rest of yer life in that bush, yanno? Just hiding. It’s how you stayed safe then, it’s how you’ll stay safe now.

So the less you stick out, the better. Guys like you are the safest there are.

[ a smile, overjoyed and frigid with condescension. ]

But for some reason, I feel like… you don’t really like that? Like there’s this part of you that really wants someone to notice you.

That why you’re getting all dressed up today? Do you want someone’s eyes to get all big… to say hey— I just can’t get him out of my mind?