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[timelysteward]

[Does this look like a harassed clock with a human face? Does it? Good, because it's Cogsworth, sitting in front of a window on the Marvisa and he looks like he just swallowed about a half a dozen lemons. In his tiny brass hands he is holding a piece of paper, and he keeps fiddling with it, shifting it between his two hands.

He puts one brass hand up to his mouth, clears his throat, and then fumbles with the paper for a moment. Could he be ... nervous? It's possible.

Lips pressed together, the time hands on his face twitching, he states flatly.]

Hello. My name is Cogsworth and I am a ... [now he has to look at the word.] Ho-mo-sexual. I realize that I am a ... clock, but I assure you that I am not a ho-mo-sex-ual clock, but a ho-mo-sex-ual man. I have been ... told. Rigorously.

[Here he is glowering.]

That I need to ... 'embrace' this. So. If there are any ... individual males who would not mind ... being complimented by a ... human clock, then, ah. Please! Come forward.

[Okay he'll try a smile but it's more of a sheepish grimace at this point. God help him.]

Comments

[timelysteward]

You are allowed to be surprised. You are not allowed to be rude about it.

[Huff, and a smoothing down of his glass front.] HON-estly were you raised in a barn with the cows and the pigs?

[...and the funeral rites - what?]

You are not dead.

[unbridles]

I certainly didn't intend on bein' rude, an' I'm sorry you took it that way; but I ain't apologizing.

No, I was raised outside of Charleston, South Carolina, thanks very much.

[Yeah he is. He picks up his coat, in which there are clearly recently patched holes, quite a few of them.]

Sure I am, unless those Brits were real bad at their jobs. An' they're usually not.

[timelysteward]

... but you just said that you were sorry. That in itself is an apology!

[Duh.

Wait. What?]

... why would British soldiers fire on their own citizens of their own colony?

[unbridles]

'Cause we ain't their citizens, or their colony anymore. [He's grinning now, proudly.] We're the United States of America, now.

[timelysteward]

Well. All right.

[What in the name of God happened while they were all cursed in this castle?]

Congratulations for ...being an entirely new nation?

[Manners, always manners.]

I will not congratulate you upon your death - as you are not dead.

[unbridles]

Thanks, but it wasn't just me that did it. I helped a little, but. [He shrugs.]

At home I'm dead. I ain't here. It's kind of weird, but then again I also never thought I'd be talkin' to a clock.

[timelysteward]

Before you ... died.

[Oh, and now you're going to get a note of sympathy.]

So you died and you were cursed to be here. I am sorry, monsieur. I understand the nature of curses. Hopefully we can break yours so your spirit may be at rest with God.

[unbridles]

Somethin' like that, but even bein' on a weird metal ship in space is a little better than bein' dead.

[He shrugs a little.] Thanks? I guess. [Let's face it, he's pretty sure he's damned already, so this is much better than he's thinking it could be.]

[timelysteward]

Well I cannot deny the truth of that.

[Cursed is absolutely better than death.]

Are you, ah, going to try to stay here? On this ... fleet of ships?

[unbridles]

...I mean, maybe? I hadn't really thought about it all that much.

[timelysteward]

...All right. Well. I wish you luck, monsieur.

[See, that is much more polite.]

[unbridles]

Uh, thanks, but I don't really think we got much of a choice in this case.

[timelysteward]

... well all right you might have a point there.