avalononline | text; un: m. edgeworth

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text; un: m. edgeworth

Interesting — a few weeks ago a pack of charlatans sent people into the forest on a wild goose chase that purported to be a "quest", but now that the allegedly real ones have turned up, I find they aren't all that less absurd than the ersatz version. Chasing wild pigs, building snow sculptures...one almost wonders if we aren't all being mocked again.

More productively, I'm interested in finding a regular chess partner. I will provide the board; scheduling and location can be subsequently discussed. I would prefer someone with at least passing familiarity with the game, though I suppose lessons can be arranged for novices just as easily.

I find myself...in need of distraction, this time of year.

— M. Edgeworth

[OOC: If you're interested in doing quests with Edgeworth, feel free to use this post as a jumping-off point! He may not want to do them, but I sure do. Otherwise, have some network shenanigans!]

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Come clean up the kitchen. I'm done making food.

[Distract yourself with THAT.]

I didn't make the mess. Clean it yourself.

The one who doesn't cook, cleans. That's common courtesy.

There's a plate for you too. Don't complain.

If it's a question of equal division of labor, I'll point out that you made that food in my kitchen, with my utensils, and ostensibly my groceries.

Groceries that I went out to get.

Without me you would still be rummaging through the dust and grime in your cabinets to find a meal.

Which is my concern, not yours.

My only concern is how long you're going to act like a fool about this.

Even a child wouldn't put up this much of a fight.

Unsurprising that you would entirely miss the point. The point is that you have no right to dictate my actions, any more than I have the right to dictate yours.

Unless, of course, that's a floodgate you're interested in opening.

Then how do you a feel about a bet? Using that little game of yours. Loser cleans the kitchen.

A bet, really?

Fine. I see no reason not to take you up on it. Particularly since you won't win.

Your overconfidence will be your downfall someday you know.

Set up the board in the living room and I'll meet you there.

Oh? Is that your prophecy? Then I suppose we'll see how skilled of an oracle you are.

Bring both plates.

[He was going to bring the food and not because Miles told him too. That message is left on read. Enjoy the last word, asshole. He gets all the internal validation he needs by knowing he thought it first.

So he storms into the room, pops the bowls of minestrone on the table and tries to push back his sudden, desperate wish for a third hand that could have carried his wine in here, lest some kind of Monkey's Paw hear him. This place is full of bullshit magic afterall.

Better to stay sharp anyway. Chess isn't a game he plays often. It's going to take every trick up his sleeve to keep the pieces in his favor.

He dramatically drops into the chair closest to him, having to compensate physically for the hamon he's lacking-it's impossible to do his jump-sit and that's really tragic.]

Explain the rules.

[Rules he does know, but guess what?? He's going to try to play this from every possible angle. Pretend not to know and do some 'beginner's luck' plays in the middle. He's not above a good hustle.

It'd be easier if it were cards, but he can work with this.]

[The infuriating thing about the current state of affairs is that, being a reasonable and rational person, he'd actually thought that Caesar Zeppeli would leave after that little fiasco with the uncomfortably enchanted chapstick. Any sensible person would've figured out that it was a mistake and therefore better not discussed at any great length, and immediately disappeared back to wherever he'd come from and simply left Edgeworth alone.

Except that he hadn't. He'd just...stayed. And rather than being late for work, Edgeworth had locked the house and left and assumed Caesar would be gone by the time he got home, except that then he'd gotten home and the lights were on and there was food cooking in the kitchen, smelling far better than anything he would've prepared for himself otherwise and —

Tomorrow, he'd thought. Surely the man would leave by tomorrow.

Except that now it's been days and Caesar Zeppeli shows no signs of leaving, which is irritating but fine and he's just going to passive-aggressively do nothing about it, except for in times like this when the man tries to impose rules onto him, and clearly forgets whose house this even is to begin with.

Anyway, it seems like he made minestrone. It's cold outside and the soup looks hot and smells rich and they're about to play chess. It'd almost be a pleasant, cozy evening, if it weren't for all the parts that make it infuriating.]

You've challenged me to a round of a game and you don't even know its rules? You might as well save yourself some time and go clean the kitchen right now.

[Smug bastard.]

Very well. Red moves first, we play touch-move, thirty seconds per move. Other than that, standard rules apply.

You'll eat your words soon enough, Miles.

[Claiming ignorance will only take him so far and asking for an explanation of all the rules of chess would be foolish. Miles isn't an idiot-he'd catch on quick.

But he can't wait to see that smug look disappear from his face. Can't wait to watch it melt away when he loses his advantage. All the skill in the world won't matter if Caesar can get away with his sleight of hand.

His minestrone's cooling to the side and Caesar takes the opportunity to pull out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up in one quick motion. He'll smoke inside if he wants, asshole. If it annoys him, all the better. It's one more distraction on his side.]

Go ahead of move then. If you wait too long to start this battle, the food will dry to the pans. You'll have a hard time scraping it off.

Confidence is useful in chess. But you'll find that pride soon goes before a fall.

[His eyes narrow slightly at the cigarette, but he doesn't say anything about it because he can sense bait when he sees it. He also doesn't need a full ten seconds to decide what his first move is going to be, but by the same token, there's no sense in getting cocky when that's something he's just cautioned his foe against himself.

He shifts his king's pawn, then motions to Caesar with an open hand.]

Your move.

I could say the same of you. You're looking smug for someone who doesn't know their opponent outside of a kiss.

[The cigarette doesn't have its intended effect and that's interesting. Miles has a better hold over his temper than most or maybe this actually doesn't bother him-it's hopefully the former. It irritates him all the same and he can't wait to provoke the bastard into making a mistake. If he treats this like a round of cards, his victory is assured.

He blows some smoke up towards the ceiling - moves the pawn in front of his knight forward.]

Do you know how to wash dishes? Or is that another skill you're lacking in?

Yeah, well, the fake quest guys got an asskicking. Figures they wouldn't try it again after that.

Unless some of these new quests are fake too, in which case, whoever posted them can get an asskicking too.

I suppose there's no way to be certain until someone attempts them and finds out firsthand.

Though I suppose there's a certain merit in corralling the pigs. The farmers keep complaining about them.

Oh yeah? You gonna try chasing them around?

I'm not particularly inclined to. More that I'd be appreciative if someone else would, so that I stop getting so many complaints about them.

Do you like pork?
I intend on going out to capture pigs later today.

[ Speaking of the quests. Riou would do it even if it wasn't a quest, honestly... ]

[Never before has a username been so apt, as Edgeworth can only assume that the M in "CrazyM" stands for "motherfucker".]

I do enjoy pork.

...I was under the impression the pigs had to be delivered alive.

[ Actually, it's "Mason." ]

It said to bring 7 alive. I am capable of capturing more than 7.

[CLOSE ENOUGH]

How do you intend to capture the others, out of curiosity? Alive or dead?

I intend on capturing them using traps, so alive until I can take it to an appropriate area to dress and butcher the animal for storage. An entire pig will last some time for the three of us.

[ He's talking about Mad Trigger Crew. He'll happily cook for them. ]

The...three of us? I only count two.

[Well, Riou did ask if he liked pork, so the assumption that he's included in the count — however awkward it leaves him feeling, just assuming such a thing — isn't an entirely unheard-of one.]

Ah. No, I've got it. I suppose you mean your friend the police officer?

Yes. Jyuto Iruma and Samatoki Aohitsugi. Together, we form Yokohama division's Mad Trigger Crew.

[ Making stuff for Edgeworth would be a bonus outside of his crew. ]

Chess is that game played upon a board of black and white squares, yes? I think I might offer you some sport.

There are a number of games played on a board of black and white squares. This one involves pieces that move in different ways depending on their status, as opposed to checkers, for which all movement is essentially identical.

Ah, that one. I know of it, though I suspect the pieces I am familiar with will differ to yours. I am willing to learn if it means playing against a decent opponent however.

I suppose the names of the pieces aren't of much concern, so long as their movements are correct. Whether it's called a knight or a warhorse or what have you, it still moves one straight and one diagonal.

You would be surprised. Regardless, I'm sure it will be easy to adapt.

I am not particularly busy for the time being so I can accommodate whatever day you wish to have our game.

Should the names concern me?

I would prefer either the noon hour on any weekday, or early afternoons on the weekend. Aside from that, the choice is yours.

The weekend suits. Where would you like to meet?

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