Let's go out for a drink, just the two of us. To the Gatewater Hotel bar, in fact. He barely knew this Godot fellow, but Godot clearly understood his tastes. Redd White of Bluecorp doesn't settle for just any cheap spirits!
"I'm usually a coffee man, not much for the hard stuff," Godot said, sipping from his glass. "But once in a while, what can it hurt?"
"It's spectacularino is what it is! How can you afford such a fancy bottle of wine? Pardon moi if that was a bit personal." To his relief, though, Godot only smirked.
"I have my ways, Mr. White. Not all of us can be quite as rich as you once were, after all." Redd tensed, gulping down the other half of his glass of wine. Yeah, I was rich. Before that spiky-haired bastard took it all away, before Bluecorp shut down and some punks pelted the building with rotten apples. Before I ended up behind bars.
"So, you've got quite a history, haven't you?" Godot ventured. Redd nodded, pouring himself another glass. It was bitter and strong with a fruity aftertaste, his head was already beginning to spin and was it just his imagination or was the room getting warmer? "Chief executive, dug up all kinds of dirt, had the entire legal system in your pocket. Pretty impressive for such a young man, no?"
"Young? Me?" Redd waved his free hand, snickering. "Not quite, I was well into my thirties! In fact, I was nearly the big four-oh when it all went south." He swirled the wine in his glass, Godot still sipping his first and watching him curiously through that visor of his. "I could have kept going until my golden years, I could have..."
"So what happened? I've heard a few rumors here and there, but no one knows for sure," Godot said, tapping the rim of his glass. "The big one right now is you putting a bun in the oven of your poor secretary and refusing to pay child support, so she ratted you out." Ah, yes, Miss April May. He'd fucked her plenty of times, but no rugrats had come of it thanks to her little white pills. And even if he had, she knew what'd happen if she tried to rat him out.
"Scandalicious! Ah, but as they say, sexification sells!" Two glasses down, on to a third. He was feeling warmer and warmer now. "But enough about me. Tell me something about you, perhaps?"
"So modest." Godot smirked. "Very well. Once upon a time...well, I didn't necessarily have it all, but I had it good." He sipped his drink and Redd gulped down the whole of his. The more he drank, the thirstier he felt.
"Tell me more!"
"I was a seasoned attorney. Had me a nice family back in Arizona, a beautiful girlfriend. Then one day, after my fifth cup of coffee, the world around me went dark." As if psychic, the music around them switched to a slow, sad jazz tune. "Almost died, I did. The smell of coffee revived me, and when I woke up I'd lost everything. My career, my girl, my family gave me up for dead. The doctors rigged this thing-" he tapped the visor-"to give me back my sight, but it's never been the same."
"Such a sad tale!" Redd crowed, not sure whether he was being sarcastic. He'd refilled his glass at least five times now, he was feeling chatty. "So what did you do with your shattered life?"
"Oh, lots of things. Drank more coffee, became a prosecutor, killed a woman. That's how I ended up in jail."
"Looks like we've got something in common, then." He poured another glass. "That's what finished me."
Godot raised an eyebrow, smiling wryly.
"Really. Care to tell?"
"Oh, it was glorious at first! Some stupid lady, she fancied herself a defense attorney? She was stupid enough to think she had dirt on me. Oh, she hid it in a clock, but she didn't realize I knew she knew!" He cackled. "She asked her kid sister to hold onto it, but instead the little girl almost went to jail! Poor little brat cried and whined for some loser to rescue her...I think the guy was the dead bitch's protege or something? It's not important. Important thing is, I put a stop to her little jaunt!"
Godot's hand tightened around the stem of his glass.
"How did you kill her? Just curious, of course. I stabbed my victim. She didn't even see it coming."
"How simplistical," Redd slurred. He was getting dizzy but he couldn't stop the flow of chatter, even though Godot was looking less than pleased by that comment. "I bashed the bitch's head in. She tried to run, but I had her cornered..."
The floor dropped out from under Redd's body as Godot whipped up the tablecloth.
"H-how did you-"
"Just what I needed to hear, Mr. White." Godot slugged back the last of his wine. "But don't worry, I don't plan to give you what you gave her." He smirked. "Too many witnesses. I'm not stupid enough to get caught twice." He patted the clock's head. "Besides, it'd be pretty pointless to kill a man twice."
His stomach twisted, turning to ice, his heart was hammering in his chest and his vision was blurry. The wine? No, but he was drinking it, how could-
"Shouldn't have left your glass alone, Mr. White." Godot stood up, slapping a bill on the table and pulling out the clock. "Here. You can count down your last few minutes."
"Y...you..." His tongue felt thick, his muscles felt useless, the room was spinning and he just barely managed to hold back his vomit. Godot smirked.
"Don't bother going after her, either. She aint where you're going."
The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the clock's-no, her face. Taunting him.
Redd White, age 42, was found dead at the bar of Gatewater Hotel. Cause of death: atroquinine poisoning.