[El Durante believed this weirdly named criminal, because he didn't catch the grammatical errors he'd made (or it was too fast) and phrased his one, bizarre Spanish question incorrectly.
Too many people believed that he was of Hispanic-descent, because of his looks and his name. Truthfully? Dieguez first learned the language to facilitate selling houses and, then, to talk with his wife and her family (very often making mistakes). After having to distance himself from the in-laws, speaking the language was a part of his angle in his underground fighting career. A badass Hispanic was easy to root for, especially in the southwestern area. Nobody cared that he'd mix up words or grammar and nobody really bothered to correct him. (His title, for instance? Durante only meant 'stubborn' or 'enduring' in Italian. In Spanish, it meant something like 'during'. He'd chosen this name out of an appreciation for Jimmy Durante, but didn't object when the el was thrown before it.)
Now? It was still something of a scare-tactic, to keep the police and government people at a distance.
This honesty. It was either very foolish or a very clever, well-done ruse to catch him off guard. If it was the latter, well, it worked. This...Quill's act was so weird that it caught him very off guard and raised too many questions to be contained. Turning to the one-way glass panel, where, surely, there were government folks and police, the larger man raised a middle finger; he, then, turned back to this oddball.] You and your classmates should have sued whoever taught you. At the least, you should know how to ask where the bathroom is.
[ Sometimes, after a very long, very satisfying one night stand, it becomes imperative to know where one's pants are.
That was Peter's excuse, and he was sticking to it.
In any case, when el Durante flipped the viewing mirror the bird, Peter blinked, caught somewhere between amused and bewildered. More the former than the latter, however, because the image struck him as oddly hilarious, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. In response to the man's words, he canted his head to one side, eyes narrowing and unfocusing in thought. ]
¿Dónde... está... el baño?
[ Peter was pretty sure that was it. Like, 80% sure. It took another second for it to finally sink in, and his head darted up, gaze moving toward the other man, when his eureka! movement arrived. ]
Oh, goddammit. [ To his credit, he sounded like someone who had just been let in on the joke and found it mildly funny, if exasperating. He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. ] You've been able to speak English this whole goddamn time?
I never said I couldn't to anyone. [There was no accent in his English. His arms crossed, but his eyebrows lowered slightly in confusion. It wasn't a joke he'd told. He'd spent hours, speaking Spanish with the government-types, but it took maybe less than a minute for him to reveal this large-ish percentage of truth to Mr. Quill. Perhaps prematurely, but too late to take it back.
Why did he do this? Prior to even knowing this man's name, el Durante had been told that one of the criminals signed with their Dirty not-Dozen would be seeing him. This weird one didn't seem like a typical outlaw; this Quill seemed earnest and oddly considerate, if not awkward. It was very disarming. He'd been expecting someone to come in and threaten him or offer to bribe him.
Not attempt to appeal to him like a human being.
Either this was an imbecile that they'd sent in, which would have been very counterproductive to their aims of recruiting him for their little game, or this was a con-man who was so excellent in effortlessly fabricating an eccentric, disarming false-attitude (to mask a deadlier one) that such a lie had become second nature to him.
Yes. 'Peter Quill'. Surely, that was a pseudonym. A very weird one. More befitting a talking porcupine in a kid's book than a master of deception.] Now, tell me why I should join your operation.
[ Peter allowed himself only a moment to reel at how completely off the rails this conversation had gone. Sure, they had warned Peter that the other guy probably couldn't speak English; sure, they had warned him about the impressive record of maiming the guy had tucked under his belt; and, sure, they had warned Peter that if things suddenly went south, it'd take them a minute or two to get into the room to bail him out, so--
He expected a whole lot of violence. Possibly some awkward and slow shouting. This, though, was a pleasant surprise.
He shook himself, finally pushing himself off the door and sliding into the seat at the table centered in the room. ]
So I guess this means we're skipping the small talk? [ He offered a small, tentative smile. ] That's too bad. I'm pretty good at small talk.
[Well, it was terribly hard to induce a lot of violence when handcuffed to table. But, if Peter asked nicely, el Durante would be more than willing to oblige. The question he'd posed, admittedly, was fairly limited in scope. He only asked it to study Peter's spin on this scenario, to glean more insight about his odd character.
Small-talk? This wasn't a Tarantino movie. (Before anyone asked, he only saw like one.)
El Durante preferred when things were direct and straight-forward, but, for a chance to study this manipulator, perhaps confirm biases?
With a shrug:] I know next to nothing about you, let alone what you're good at. To be honest.
If you can't tell me something about this mission, why don't you tell me more about yourself? [It had been a while since he'd done this. This small talk thing. Excuse him if it showed.]
[ He couldn't help it -- Peter let out a quiet laugh at the suggestion, shaking his head. ]
I think all you really need to know is my name, dude, which you've got. Aside from that...
[ He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, hands clasped loosely on the table in front of him. Apparently he convinced the feds and cops outside they could forego the cuffs. Peter sure as hell wasn't going anywhere, and if el Durante defied the odds and, like, Hulked himself out of his restraints (he certainly looked as though he could do it, even if Peter was 80% sure it was impossible), then he'd need to be able to defend himself, right?
So no cuffs for the thief. The prison jumpsuit, though -- that still came standard.
But he was game, at least, and the other man's invitation wasn't the most awkward thing he had heard, which was why he waved vaguely to himself. ]
Peter Jason Quill, age 35. One count fraud. Two counts of public intoxication. One count of assault on a guy who 100% had it coming. And most recently, one count of picking the wrong warehouse to break into.
Plenty of laws were dumb, but, even to guy that usually didn't drink, charging somebody for being drunk in public sounded especially so. (The other charges sounded fine with him. The fraud was especially helpful for confirming a bias.) But. Still. Public intoxication. What was the worst thing anyone had done, while drunk in public? Punched a few people, maybe? Only seemed worth enforcing if children or little old people were hurt. (Ooh. Wait. Did this Quill do such a thing?
No. Hitters of the elderly and youth had a certain...air about them. Well, not exactly an air. More like a vibe. A certain kind of spirit. This Quill's soul did not give off such an impression.)] You had heard about me. The only crime they've got me for was attacking the Accuser's associates without the government's permission. [There's a hint of bitterness in that tone. A tone that pretty much insists you don't ask about the other crimes he didn't get charged for.
Well. Only felt fair to share that, since this Peter did. Time to see if he could change the subject!] Your charge of fraud. It was for taxes, or something more interesting?
[ He smirked despite himself, trying to hide it by pulling a hand down his face. ]
It was mostly letting a guy think I was someone I wasn't. And then letting him hand over a whole lot of cash that I had no business taking, but, hey, not my fault he never asked for ID, you know?
[ He shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say, What can you do? before he leaned forward on his elbows on the table. ]
But you-- I've gotta say. Some of the stuff I've heard about you has been-- interesting. That's putting aside all the stuff in the official records, even.
[ Tilting his head to one side, he regarded el Durante with a considering look. ]
You clearly don't like this Accuser guy. I would've thought you'd be the first on board with this whole "let's take him down" thing.
[Letting a guy think I was someone I wasn't...letting him hand over a whole lot of cash? Yes. This did sound like a very efficient con-man. One-hundred percent not an imbecile. This 'Peter Quill', whoever he truly was, would be useful, as an ally, against the Accuser. El Durante resettled himself and, without looking away, he explained himself as frankly as he was able.
Which, you know, was really, really frank. Dunno how you measure a thing like that accurately, but it'd be off the charts. In a manner of speaking. Not a literal one, of course. Unless they developed some sort of Geiger counter of abstract conce--oh, never mind.] It is a matter of principle. The only figure of authority that I've ever respected was my father. To continue doing what I was, before I was arrested, under the orders of people that I distrust is against my personal standards.
You must be getting something out of this. [Not a question. A very figuratively plain-faced assumption.] Something that would make it amendable to serve these bureaucratic, pencil-pushing fools. [A brief nod, to the two-way glass pane. You know. As if Quill needed clarification.] It is blackmail. Or information, perhaps.
[ Yeah, he understood. He nodded and settled back into his seat -- slouched, more like -- and tapped his fingers lightly on the table's top. The action was more idle than nervous -- as if Peter simply wanted something to do with his hands. The question was a fair one, which was why Peter didn't have any qualms answering. ]
They said they'd wipe our records. I'm hopin' for a slap on the wrist in exchange for my help. I meant it when I said I was in the wrong warehouse at the totally wrong time.
[ --Mostly true. That, and York had been tearing the continental US apart looking for Peter. He had sort of screwed York out of a deal, once upon a time, and York was most certainly looking to collect. Peter needed to be out of this place, like, five weeks ago. ]
So you're not interested in the cleaned records, I'm guessing?
[...pity, that his involvement was for something so petty. But, it was understandable. It would be conducive for a con-man to have a clean record, to have a new, ripe opportunity to act as he would.
The arms were lowered and his hands were folded in front of him, on the table.] I may change my name, sometimes, but I know who I am and I know what I've experienced and committed; I don't need a legal entity to forgive what I've done. [Utterly no hint of remorse, in that tone.It's not that he's forgiven himself. No. Not at all.] Peter Quill. Do you believe that there is good and evil?
[Yes. This was exactly what normal people small-talked about. Rap-sheets and morality. Aw yeah.]
[ Whether or not he intended to, the question managed to once again surprise Peter into silence. How many times had that been, today? El Durante seemed to be aiming for a personal best.
Despite himself, Peter glanced over to the one-way mirror, as if to say, "You guys heard that too, right?", as if to say, "When did this become Silence of the Lambs?", before giving the other man his attention again.
He got the feeling el Durante didn't really dabble in rhetorical questions, or at least that he was a very straightforward sort of person. He could be wrong, though. In any case, he figured it'd be safe to answer the question, and better that he do so honestly. (It was the "honestly" part that tripped him up, which explained the long pause before he finally spoke). ]
Not... really? [ The words were drawn out, thoughtful. ] I think there's what people think is right, and what people think is wrong, and being right doesn't always mean "good" and being in the wrong doesn't always mean "bad."
[ He shrugged, casting his gaze back down to the table. ] Dealing with shades of gray is kinda what I do.
[El Durante dabbled in whatever he needed to, to get what he wantedunless it got innocent people hurt and/or killed. Consider this question something of a means, to further his character-study. He listened without blinking, and then shared his piece.] I'd agree only partly. There is evil in this world. Undoubtedly, good must also exist, to balance the first. I think good often takes the form of belief, of people wishing to find heroes and worthwhile endeavors.
[His hands were separated and palms opened, as if to say, I have no hidden agendas here.] As you've opined, I also think that morality is relative. Two people can look at the same thing, and one can insist it's good while the other would disagree.
But I have a feeling we'd agree that the Accuser is undoubtedly evil, and, if we took him down, it would not make us anything definitely good. Only technically good. [A very cold statement of fact. Correct him if he was wrong.] This is not atonement; this is assassination that we're signing up for.
Edited (Wrong word. Haha. Kind of literally.) 2016-01-21 23:29 (UTC)
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no subject
Too many people believed that he was of Hispanic-descent, because of his looks and his name. Truthfully? Dieguez first learned the language to facilitate selling houses and, then, to talk with his wife and her family (very often making mistakes). After having to distance himself from the in-laws, speaking the language was a part of his angle in his underground fighting career. A badass Hispanic was easy to root for, especially in the southwestern area. Nobody cared that he'd mix up words or grammar and nobody really bothered to correct him. (His title, for instance? Durante only meant 'stubborn' or 'enduring' in Italian. In Spanish, it meant something like 'during'. He'd chosen this name out of an appreciation for Jimmy Durante, but didn't object when the el was thrown before it.)
Now? It was still something of a scare-tactic, to keep the police and government people at a distance.
This honesty. It was either very foolish or a very clever, well-done ruse to catch him off guard. If it was the latter, well, it worked. This...Quill's act was so weird that it caught him very off guard and raised too many questions to be contained. Turning to the one-way glass panel, where, surely, there were government folks and police, the larger man raised a middle finger; he, then, turned back to this oddball.] You and your classmates should have sued whoever taught you. At the least, you should know how to ask where the bathroom is.
no subject
That was Peter's excuse, and he was sticking to it.
In any case, when el Durante flipped the viewing mirror the bird, Peter blinked, caught somewhere between amused and bewildered. More the former than the latter, however, because the image struck him as oddly hilarious, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. In response to the man's words, he canted his head to one side, eyes narrowing and unfocusing in thought. ]
¿Dónde... está... el baño?
[ Peter was pretty sure that was it. Like, 80% sure. It took another second for it to finally sink in, and his head darted up, gaze moving toward the other man, when his eureka! movement arrived. ]
Oh, goddammit. [ To his credit, he sounded like someone who had just been let in on the joke and found it mildly funny, if exasperating. He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. ] You've been able to speak English this whole goddamn time?
no subject
Why did he do this? Prior to even knowing this man's name, el Durante had been told that one of the criminals signed with their Dirty not-Dozen would be seeing him. This weird one didn't seem like a typical outlaw; this Quill seemed earnest and oddly considerate, if not awkward. It was very disarming. He'd been expecting someone to come in and threaten him or offer to bribe him.
Not attempt to appeal to him like a human being.
Either this was an imbecile that they'd sent in, which would have been very counterproductive to their aims of recruiting him for their little game, or this was a con-man who was so excellent in effortlessly fabricating an eccentric, disarming false-attitude (to mask a deadlier one) that such a lie had become second nature to him.
Yes. 'Peter Quill'. Surely, that was a pseudonym. A very weird one. More befitting a talking porcupine in a kid's book than a master of deception.] Now, tell me why I should join your operation.
no subject
He expected a whole lot of violence. Possibly some awkward and slow shouting. This, though, was a pleasant surprise.
He shook himself, finally pushing himself off the door and sliding into the seat at the table centered in the room. ]
So I guess this means we're skipping the small talk? [ He offered a small, tentative smile. ] That's too bad. I'm pretty good at small talk.
no subject
Small-talk? This wasn't a Tarantino movie. (Before anyone asked, he only saw like one.)
El Durante preferred when things were direct and straight-forward, but, for a chance to study this manipulator, perhaps confirm biases?
With a shrug:] I know next to nothing about you, let alone what you're good at. To be honest.
If you can't tell me something about this mission, why don't you tell me more about yourself? [It had been a while since he'd done this. This small talk thing. Excuse him if it showed.]
no subject
I think all you really need to know is my name, dude, which you've got. Aside from that...
[ He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, hands clasped loosely on the table in front of him. Apparently he convinced the feds and cops outside they could forego the cuffs. Peter sure as hell wasn't going anywhere, and if el Durante defied the odds and, like, Hulked himself out of his restraints (he certainly looked as though he could do it, even if Peter was 80% sure it was impossible), then he'd need to be able to defend himself, right?
So no cuffs for the thief. The prison jumpsuit, though -- that still came standard.
But he was game, at least, and the other man's invitation wasn't the most awkward thing he had heard, which was why he waved vaguely to himself. ]
Peter Jason Quill, age 35. One count fraud. Two counts of public intoxication. One count of assault on a guy who 100% had it coming. And most recently, one count of picking the wrong warehouse to break into.
no subject
Plenty of laws were dumb, but, even to guy that usually didn't drink, charging somebody for being drunk in public sounded especially so. (The other charges sounded fine with him. The fraud was especially helpful for confirming a bias.) But. Still. Public intoxication. What was the worst thing anyone had done, while drunk in public? Punched a few people, maybe? Only seemed worth enforcing if children or little old people were hurt. (Ooh. Wait. Did this Quill do such a thing?
No. Hitters of the elderly and youth had a certain...air about them. Well, not exactly an air. More like a vibe. A certain kind of spirit. This Quill's soul did not give off such an impression.)] You had heard about me. The only crime they've got me for was attacking the Accuser's associates without the government's permission. [There's a hint of bitterness in that tone.
A tone that pretty much insists you don't ask about the other crimes he didn't get charged for.Well. Only felt fair to share that, since this Peter did. Time to see if he could change the subject!] Your charge of fraud. It was for taxes, or something more interesting?
no subject
It was mostly letting a guy think I was someone I wasn't. And then letting him hand over a whole lot of cash that I had no business taking, but, hey, not my fault he never asked for ID, you know?
[ He shrugged his shoulders again, as if to say, What can you do? before he leaned forward on his elbows on the table. ]
But you-- I've gotta say. Some of the stuff I've heard about you has been-- interesting. That's putting aside all the stuff in the official records, even.
[ Tilting his head to one side, he regarded el Durante with a considering look. ]
You clearly don't like this Accuser guy. I would've thought you'd be the first on board with this whole "let's take him down" thing.
no subject
Which, you know, was really, really frank. Dunno how you measure a thing like that accurately, but it'd be off the charts. In a manner of speaking. Not a literal one, of course. Unless they developed some sort of Geiger counter of abstract conce--oh, never mind.] It is a matter of principle. The only figure of authority that I've ever respected was my father. To continue doing what I was, before I was arrested, under the orders of people that I distrust is against my personal standards.
You must be getting something out of this. [Not a question. A very figuratively plain-faced assumption.] Something that would make it amendable to serve these bureaucratic, pencil-pushing fools. [A brief nod, to the two-way glass pane. You know. As if Quill needed clarification.] It is blackmail. Or information, perhaps.
no subject
They said they'd wipe our records. I'm hopin' for a slap on the wrist in exchange for my help. I meant it when I said I was in the wrong warehouse at the totally wrong time.
[ --Mostly true. That, and York had been tearing the continental US apart looking for Peter. He had sort of screwed York out of a deal, once upon a time, and York was most certainly looking to collect. Peter needed to be out of this place, like, five weeks ago. ]
So you're not interested in the cleaned records, I'm guessing?
no subject
The arms were lowered and his hands were folded in front of him, on the table.] I may change my name, sometimes, but I know who I am and I know what I've experienced and committed; I don't need a legal entity to forgive what I've done. [Utterly no hint of remorse, in that tone.
It's not that he's forgiven himself. No. Not at all.] Peter Quill. Do you believe that there is good and evil?[Yes. This was exactly what normal people small-talked about. Rap-sheets and morality. Aw yeah.]
no subject
Despite himself, Peter glanced over to the one-way mirror, as if to say, "You guys heard that too, right?", as if to say, "When did this become Silence of the Lambs?", before giving the other man his attention again.
He got the feeling el Durante didn't really dabble in rhetorical questions, or at least that he was a very straightforward sort of person. He could be wrong, though. In any case, he figured it'd be safe to answer the question, and better that he do so honestly. (It was the "honestly" part that tripped him up, which explained the long pause before he finally spoke). ]
Not... really? [ The words were drawn out, thoughtful. ] I think there's what people think is right, and what people think is wrong, and being right doesn't always mean "good" and being in the wrong doesn't always mean "bad."
[ He shrugged, casting his gaze back down to the table. ] Dealing with shades of gray is kinda what I do.
no subject
unless it got innocent people hurt and/or killed. Consider this question something of a means, to further his character-study. He listened without blinking, and then shared his piece.] I'd agree only partly. There is evil in this world. Undoubtedly, good must also exist, to balance the first. I think good often takes the form of belief, of people wishing to find heroes and worthwhile endeavors.[His hands were separated and palms opened, as if to say, I have no hidden agendas here.] As you've opined, I also think that morality is relative. Two people can look at the same thing, and one can insist it's good while the other would disagree.
But I have a feeling we'd agree that the Accuser is undoubtedly evil, and, if we took him down, it would not make us anything definitely good. Only technically good. [A very cold statement of fact. Correct him if he was wrong.] This is not atonement; this is assassination that we're signing up for.