His affections, while seemingly casual or careless (I'll be honest, he can also come off as a bit misogynistic) disguise a love so deep as to have consumed his guilt, his anger, his life... and his regrets.
Threaded throughout all of this is a strange sort of self-awareness, an almost unsettlingly blase attitude towards death and life; he is familiar with the threads of fate and fortune, and speaks of them as one might an old friend... or an old foe. He doesn't seem terribly put out by his death or the tragedy of his life, but upon closer inspection, there will always be a thread of bitterness running through the length of his narrative--like the coffee he so loves, it is bitter and black.
The hell he speaks of having endured--while largely metaphorical--is nevertheless real enough, and is yet fuel for the fire that still burns untapped in his heart. At this point, though, he is simply waiting--his health is always a matter of tricky balance, pain takes its toll, and exhaustion drains a great deal of energy from his body. At 34, Godot is now waiting, more or less, to pass on and rejoin his love--Mia, who he failed; Mia, who he respects more than possibly even himself--in the afterlife.
Perhaps Ruby City will bring back the spark of life that he's been waiting for--poor substitute for the light of love, perhaps, but life, as they say, goes on.
And Godot has never been much of a quitter.
First Person: [Godot is positioned with his jaw resting on one fist, 'regarding' the screen seriously through the red lights of his visor. Once he's sure it's on, he removes his chin from his hand and sits back.]
I've been watching this whatever it is to find out what's going on around here, but it looks like no one's got the answer--just a lot of words, tossed around carelessly to hide your ignorance. The scent of desperation is so strong that I can smell it from here--sharp and bitter, like the blackest dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee.
So there is no answer. Fine!
When there's salt in your cup... you drink it down fast straight to the last drop--no matter how hot it may be!
[If you kept up this far, the next bit is going to sound like a nonsequiter--and maybe it is.]
Re: Godot || Ace Attorney || Reserve
Threaded throughout all of this is a strange sort of self-awareness, an almost unsettlingly blase attitude towards death and life; he is familiar with the threads of fate and fortune, and speaks of them as one might an old friend... or an old foe. He doesn't seem terribly put out by his death or the tragedy of his life, but upon closer inspection, there will always be a thread of bitterness running through the length of his narrative--like the coffee he so loves, it is bitter and black.
The hell he speaks of having endured--while largely metaphorical--is nevertheless real enough, and is yet fuel for the fire that still burns untapped in his heart. At this point, though, he is simply waiting--his health is always a matter of tricky balance, pain takes its toll, and exhaustion drains a great deal of energy from his body. At 34, Godot is now waiting, more or less, to pass on and rejoin his love--Mia, who he failed; Mia, who he respects more than possibly even himself--in the afterlife.
Perhaps Ruby City will bring back the spark of life that he's been waiting for--poor substitute for the light of love, perhaps, but life, as they say, goes on.
And Godot has never been much of a quitter.
First Person: [Godot is positioned with his jaw resting on one fist, 'regarding' the screen seriously through the red lights of his visor. Once he's sure it's on, he removes his chin from his hand and sits back.]
I've been watching this whatever it is to find out what's going on around here, but it looks like no one's got the answer--just a lot of words, tossed around carelessly to hide your ignorance. The scent of desperation is so strong that I can smell it from here--sharp and bitter, like the blackest dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee.
So there is no answer. Fine!
When there's salt in your cup... you drink it down fast straight to the last drop--no matter how hot it may be!
[If you kept up this far, the next bit is going to sound like a nonsequiter--and maybe it is.]
I've just got one question:
What's the nearest good hospital?