I see Blackie's Goat and I'm getting it.docx part 1
//real title to come later when I actually a title.
“Yes, of course, who has time? Who has time? But then if we do not ever take time, how can we ever have time?” The Merovingian smirked. He thought he heard a sniff or a chuckle in the background, but as the conversation was happening in a restaurant intrusive ambient noises were to be expected. He continued on, alternately taunting and explaining to his audience as they danced around the topic that was going to be the true purpose of the meeting.
“It is, of course, the way of all things. You see, there is only one constant, one universal, it is the only real truth: causality. Action. Reaction. Cause and effect.” At this, he smiled to himself, inwardly laughing at a joke that he was uniquely able to see. One of the group seemed about to speak when a pair of voices interjected.
“No.”
“Wrong.”
Merovingian and his guests were seated across from each other. While there was only a few feet between the two sides, the table itself extended past them several feet in either direction. Each voice had come from someone at one end. They weren’t his men. They had plates in front of them and both were politely picking at their servings, though when they had shown up or who would have brought them food was beyond him. “Excuse me? We were trying to have a conversation.”
The woman to his right was the first to speak. “That doesn’t change the fact that you are wrong.”
The man across from her finished a bite and added “Although starting with a flawed premise like that would explain why you’re having to try to have a conversation.”
“It seems a great many people can have them without making a determined effort.”
“Are we having one now?”
“I believe we might be.”
“Not a very good one—“
“—Especially compared to the food.”
The two focused their attention back to their plates.
The Merovingian was furious. The audacity of anyone to even invade his table and interrupt a private conversation! Yet, something held him back from calling on his men to dispose of the two. Information was his trade. It was his business to know the why. Here were two beings that he not only couldn’t answer the why of, he didn’t even have anything to make a guess on the what or the who. Moreover, he wanted to know why they thought he was wrong. “Excusez-moi s'il vous plait, wrong? I am not wrong.”
The Man started as he brought a bite of steak up to his mouth. “If not wrong...”
“Then perhaps just incompletely informed” his companion added as his voice was cut off by the food.
Merovingian sat back in his chair, fuming. “Explain.”
