A calm, quiet office at the end of the hallway.
A reverse to the doors below.
Comparatively where they lead is unique. A warping preference the subconscious puts forward.
A comfort, peace of mind.
What follows is the door itself.
Shaping itself to follow the inside as well.
But it is well apparent which doors are repainted and which ones do not.
It is as The Progenitor wills it.
Knocking, I waited.
—...Just Enter.
"Terribly sorry to intrude."
"It's fine."
"I have come to deliver a set of new tasks regarding the division and cards."
They stopped looking at the monitor and to the newly placed stack put on the large desk.
Cold eyes stared at it.
With their mouth opening slightly.
Perhaps they read the first line.
"Why is it always…"
Their hand slowly balled into a fist. Beginning to shake.
"What exactly did they do?"
Mm, well, there is quite a lot. To put it into an acceptable way for the head…
Blatantly, there is none.
"Speaking of it would tire my voice to list it all. But the two departments regard it as accidental."
"Accidental. Accidental."
They took off the glasses, closed their eyes and began to rub their temple.
"Property damage and civilian casualties are a given aren't they?"
"Yes."
A quiet sigh laced with a dread that will rip into the future.
With open eyes, a quagmire of nothing flew to the stack.
Grabbing the first paper on the stack, their eyes drifted across each sentence.
With nothing else to speak of, I shall quietly leave with a minor announcement.
"Forgive me, I must leave for the next ap–"
—Bang!
The doors to the office were thrown to the floor with it's hinges intact.
"Hey hey hey! It'sa me! MAyrio!"
Loosely dashing towards the desk, The Progenitor stopped right in front of it, the air from doing so rustling papers and disorganizing them everywhere.
"Oh hey." The Progenitor greeted me.
I merely bowed.
"Any~! Who~! I ordered my pizza earlier. Where is it?"
It was surely my imagination, a vein of blue so clearly popped clearly on the skin of the forehead that wasn't hidden by their "normal" hair.
With dead eyes they spoke.
"...What pizza?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh–" The Progenitor scratched their mouth. "Jo mama."
With a freakish grin and a face with all muscles strained to purely give that look.
…I am unsure where the sound of cinderblocks grinding in this silent office came from.
Drooping their upper body strangely, they tilted their head with a usual smile.
"Angry? Pissed? Oh you're pissed. My I barely said anything." They said with a frivolous tone. "Low tolerance. Heh."
A smirk of superiority bared it's fangs.
"And they say this is hard."
To each their own I suppose…
Holding Their head with their arm on the desk, Their body teetered dangerously to falling.
Both locked eyes.
Murky eyes of hollow black veered into eyes devoid of life.
It seems my eyes too are playing games as the ring of buried colour in the eyes of the controller of fate changed to a flaunting bright light like the sun.
Even the eye of the star for The Progenitor… I suppose age really does degrade the body…
"Why so sherious?" The Progenitor chuckled.
The head stood up, looking down at The Progenitor.
"Oho."
Doing the same, The Progenitor crossed Their arms.
"Need to go to the bathroom?"
The head took a deep breath.
"Oh she's dropping the nuke!!!!!!!!!!" They pointed at the head. "It's gonna go splurting everywhere! Even the perfect, can't escape the female body."
"I'm gonna fuck you up."
The Progenitor whipped Their head to look at them.
A straight line drawn on their lips. Minutely though, it trembled.
"For what purpose?"
"Haha." one side of their lips rose.
They rounded the desk, closing towards the beginning to back away Progenitor.
There is a beauty in anger.
The Progenitor looked over the head.
"Pfft."
The head currently wore a short sleeved shirt with pajamas as pants.
Keuhm.
"On vacation are we eh?"
Swiftly, the head reached out.
Dodging, The Progenitor mocked the head.
"Cheap shot. Try better. Actually, that's molestation! Assault on poor, poor me!" keeping both arms covering Their chest, They closed one eye.
Immediately the head sprinted straight at them.
"Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!!!!!! She's a rapist!!!!!!!!"
The head stopped but The Progenitor didn't. Continuing to run down the hall while laughing loudly.
Eventually disappearing beyond my sight.
The head too watched The Progenitor vanish. Yet for some short time just watched the corridor.
Then they raised their arm.
The head, slowly looked at their hand.
It tightened into a fist.
That's all well and good for conviction for righting wrongs….
Now.
How do I slip away from this?
— —
Plus one for aggro.
Been some time, and for the most part, rejects other than those three came and went.
The consensus is the same.
Who are you?
How did you get here?
Deaf? Mute?
Feisty bitch.
The words to say such may be different, but the meaning is practically the same.
It's just their quirks of themselves.
Products of the environment.
What isn't is I guess what that guy did.
Physically, there's two groups of rejects.
Contractors and partners.
Hey I did that!
Nah I didn't.
Well I did, but not in the way these guys had it.
It's like a lice in my hair.
Not. That I ever had one.
My mouth craves more.
A fruity flavor this one.
The second group is more in line with one body.
Most are unaware of his presence or what they are until death.
In a basic sentence, they're a possibility.
In a bullshit sentence, they're a fragment of a timeline of a man who does and doesn't exist.
"Whew." damn that one's pretty good.
Made with some sorta exotic fruit I don't have the name for.
Or it might be the process.
The reasons could vary.
Especially when it comes to outside sources.
And when it comes to outside sources, that guy's a total maniac in making all these rejects.
Vice versa for those in the 'give and take' of sorts.
He's ass when it comes to words and promises—a man full of lies and shameless bluster—but when it comes to others….
How far do you really think he can go?
What exactly is the limit?
And for those he strings along, what is theirs?
You can't know unless you see it.
And you won't.
And they won't either.
It's cant, not won't.
****
Time is blurry here.
It's like I actually want to remember either though.
It'll end though.
…At some point.
If being nice, let's say this is a 'mistake' on the part of the showrunner. As my heartfelt expression for when they ask for a great mercy of forgiveness, I will kindly pat their head.
I will kindly give them a massage. Their back needs it after standing too much.
I will kindly speak for them. Surely they must be tired from speaking right?
I will kindly be their hands. I felt too bad for making them work with their hands. A break is needed.
I will KINDLY serve their body with utmost devotion! It's what they need! A servant of prim prospect with a large loyalty to the cause! And with magnanimity, a great peace will be tethered.
As a gift, I'll ask them to close their eyes juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust for two seconds.
It'll be special.
….
The bottle from earlier is stuck in the table. The shattered end firmly entrenched in this table.
The first three rejects went their ways.
There are very few that actually do something different when they see me.
One of them is….
So he decided to pretend.
To pretend.
If two of that reject existed, only one of them could understand both their situations and perspectives.
The name title began to form but I didn't really care.
That contractor is like a bottle.
Exactly like the one on the table.
The fire carried in one moment was used to carry the heavy body to the destination.
And when the kindle vanished, well you don't really need it now? Grow big enough and for a while it's all you need.
Just as that insatiability hit, was the destination worth it?
Heh.
A real fuck up.
A sad sop of filth that did everything but the last step.
Got a heart the moment the consequences reached into a familiar beginning.
Well that's fine.
The moment the fire goes out, the past had already claimed the price.
That guy's a finicky bastard but when it comes to crossing him, the price fluctuates.
Words and promises…
For that it was exacted like a typical fantasy demon.
Lucky you.
You did it the moment he felt like becoming one.
There's also the written contract.
The exact content I don't know about nor did I care enough to look at it.
If I knew it would lead to me staying up for weeks coordinating the departments, which operation is approved, the arsenal, objectives… fuck.
Why me always.
It all was probably because of 'you made a promise at the beginning that you would keep it and you couldn't even do that' or some shit like that.
Doesn't take a genius with the context and where the cause of everything is at.
Though by all accounts, everyone is the same here.
The start and reasons may be different, but the end is always same-y.
You reap what you sow.
The left eye will always not be normal.
Courtesy of him.
But who caaaaaaaaareeeeeeeees! It doesn't matter anyways!
A corner of my lips curled upwards.
"Actual cow…"
Hey look.
Alcohol solves all your problems.
Even saved my life down the road.
An attack on it is an attack on me.
Ah.
I ran out.
"Phug."
Only fifty bottles?
Are these guys light weights?
An empty feeling arose.
It all really just felt hollow.
And it'll be….
Briefly a thought occurred but actually doing it is iffy.
And it requires the concept of death. Specifically the three time challenger specialist I went through.
Then his voodoo magic…
Will....
And this place is also a concept of death….
"I'm fucked."
I could just use the book but that's kinda cheap.
"Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."
My balance broke and the chair decided I was a fatass that should kiss the floor with the back of my head.
The ceiling sure reminds me of the many ceilings I saw.
God this place is boring.
"That woman is still here?"
"What a circus act."
"How is it working like that..?"
It's the three bimbos again.
"And when was there a hood??"
Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
My arms flailed behind the falling chair whilst one of them held a bottle.
Like a swing, they dangle back and forth.
I could feel the floor at the lowest. Also the bottle kept dragging across it.
What can you do, what can you do.
"Cease this irritating display vile woman."
"If they want to stay low, let them. Consider it an artwork of fascination."
The bartender snorted.
Oh wait he's a butler.
"Yo shitty servant. Get me some beer." I waved the bottle.
"As I would for a decayed drunk."
Haaaaaaarsh.
"A servant's a servant. Do it."
"Such an entitled. I refuse."
"Maaaaaaaaaaaan just get some. It's in your job description."
The bottle lazily slipped out of my hand and clinked on the ground and rolled at the servants feet.
A scowl erupted across the servant's face.
I considered for a moment a taunt but using their names felt like a low blow.
Rather dehumanizing for them.
I am after all, not him.
I can tell where the line is.
Going back to the fine art of ceiling staring, I scratched my stomach.
"Is that it? Rather disappointing."
"Hey c'mon…"
"So what. Never heard a man be humiliated? It wasn't even humiliation. Hah."
"Don't you think he'd feel insulted?"
"Insulted? Both are so high handed they could feel their own shit."
"...."
What a piercing stare.
Gotta hand it to em.
A reject is a reject of their world.
So is it the role of the third to be here?
Or Kelsey?
He would ask me that.
Most probably.
"A real mercenary you are." I clapped.
Their eyes turn toward me.
"What? Can't speak?"
The lowlife chuckled.
"No."
"Wow stitched it together. A real freak show of a mute."
The lowlife smiled.
I rolled my eyes.
"Just for you, take this and use that blade for good use."
I flicked a materialized gold shaped into a coin that got caught in the lowlife's hand.
"Strip and dance like a monkey."
The smile dropped.
"Head to a brothel wretch."
"It's not like you won't. You peasants always crave money."
"Hah. Then pay me more."
Gold formed a mountain of coins.
"I changed my order. Be a dog and lick my foot."
The lips of the lowlife trembled.
"Oh it's not enough?" I created more. "Crawl and be livestock."
Mhm. A true farcity.
Just tweak it a bit and you get the intended result.
"So greedy. So greedy. This is why you peasants are nothing more than a number. But I'm merciful." I shrunk it all to one coin.
Waving it, I spoke again.
"Beg."
The lowlifes eyes fixed sharply towards the mask overlay.
"I, a lowly peasant, humbly ask the noble you to graciously donate a small mercy with utmost gratitude."
He said nothing.
"So you won't. What do I get for lowering myself to a peasant? Not a single grab despite your job description."
The ceiling sure is a colorful red.
Alas alas.
The real kicker is I'm fucking~ bored~
Alrighty, my back hurts. Might as well go see the other rooms worth anything doing.
"Nn..!" I stretched.
Feel better already.
"If anything, it doesn't matter. Your worthless trash stuck in hell. Be happy you even existed to someone."
— —
"WO-OOOOAH CHEELL CHEEEIIIL–!!"
He made a scramble to get farther away.
"Urp–!"
Pulling the hood back, he fell with it.
Quickly he rolled to the side, stopped by the wall, his hands pushed their way up. Dragging his torso to be at level with the wall.
Gripping his shirt I raised my fist.
"WaitwaitwaitwaitWAITWAITWAIT!!!!!!" he raised his hands.
Stopping I gave him a chance.
"Edin! EDIN!!!! SHAVE ME!!!!!!!"
Yeah this fucker.
The shadow head Edin gave a light cough and proceeded to 'blame' his eyesight for a preposterous daydream as he fled into a department's door.
"EDIN!!!! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Are you done with the theatrics."
He froze. The corner of his face twitched. Barely inside his mouth, his tongue covered the interior of it before it fully closed.
His eyes wandered. Accelerated thoughts with nothing.
Giving an awkward smile, he replied.
"I… suppose?"
Then get ready.
Winding my fist backward he spoke fast.
"Aeh– okehwaitjust give! Me–!"
His hands flailed wildly as his mouth shot out the words.
"I'm sorry! I apologize for my words! I just wanted to be a bit mean today! I didn't think it'd hurt that much! I know you do a lot! I just! Just wanted… to have a bit of fun."
Can't you have fun in a different way.
"Can't you have fun in a different way."
"Yeah."
..?
"When you get to this point, the only thing that weighs is monotony. I've done it too much. I've seen so much that it's… becoming a bother. And despite meeting so many… I haven't really done what a kid should do."
He hesitated for a few seconds.
"It's an addiction my past self made. The screen is there. It's always there. It's kinda pathetic since I chose everytime. I, of course, don't regret it. I was content. I was fine being like that. I wanted a difference but didn't want change.
Being mean.. Well I, I-I… I'm not sure what it means to be a good friend. Have I even become an existence that will be remembered by those I approached? I made it so that I'm fleeting, a faceless among so many unimportant others. So…"
….
"Do I mean anything to you?" I said.
His eyes, not looking at me, stopped staring at one area. He forcefully turned them to mine.
"...You're just–... You. Are.. Kelsey."
"And you are ████."
He looked like he forgot.
"The bastard that dragged me here. Get up." I let go of his shirt.
My fist turned flat.
He stared at my hand with a breath of disbelief. Slowly and cautiously he grabbed it.
Hoisting him upwards, he grunted.
Blankly without a smile he just looked at me.
Does he think he's a child?
An empty sigh left me.
"I'm still hitting you."
"Damn."
He stood still as my hand swiftly reached his head.
His eyes and body instinctively reacted.
They fluttered open with confusion at being lightly tapped.
"Do that shit again next time and I'm actually going to kill you."
His mouth opened slightly.
He didn't look relieved. Just surprised.
"Hey."
He then asked me a question.
"....You want to play a game with me?"
Considering the things I have to do, the answer would be a hard no.
"Fine."
"I thought it'd be harder."
It is.
"Then…"
"Lead the way. Or I'll just head back."
"I got it, I got it."
As we went down the stairs, I could a hundred percent say that around half of it was bullshit.
The words are true, but the meaning is different.
Distinguishing the role.
Perhaps his little acts have blurred it.
Then again I can't say.
I don't crack open a brain and say 'mhm! This is definitely the reason!'.
Under the dual staircase, he entered with me following.
It resembled more of a small place with everything expanded.
Like a memory of certain things.
But it was all connected without a door.
In the large living room, all sorts of things littered near a TV and the floor.
"You can… wait here."
He then took off his jacket.
His jacket.
"That wasn't stuck on you like glue…?"
"Uh. No." he gave a wry smile.
He kind of just looked…
Normal.
— —
The next time we saw the mysterious lady, she was facing a wall.
The reason I'm unsure of.
The cape that reached her thighs with partial frayed ends fluttered as she turned.
A mask with etched engravings greeted us.
The sockets for the eye were shadowed. The previous encounter had left even direct light unable to see a single paste of skin or eye.
The drooping hood draped a larger shadow than the mask itself.
On that hood three presumably I's with pointed ends were drawn over with a single line. A circle segmented to three pieces.
The cape also had a circle segmented into three pieces. But inside that circle was something different.
It was close to skintight, their outfit.
On their sensual chest a peculiar pattern of shaped diamonds ran down until just a bit above the leather belt carrying large and small leather pockets.
Straight on their elbow was an impossible metal that bent to the body's intent. A roll of gold. Creasing and straightening with every moment. Perhaps it was paint.
On their hands lay gloves, their fingers uncovered. Being one of only two areas not covered by something.
Before the entirety of their neck was covered by the hood except under the mask, they had hair of a fiercely burning fire. But on the angle and distance it feels like it changes… despite what my eyes had seen the entire time.
On the side of their legs, a line of that diamond pattern ran. The arms too had that thin line of pattern. With the left leg cutting the pattern off in one section with a roll of thin gold around the lower thigh.
The woman's leather boots had that pattern too.
"Ready for round three?"
The woman's low thin silk like voice reverberated in my ears.
It was as if the moment I heard it, that woman was meant to be destiny.
It was strange. And fascinating.
Merely just standing there. And yet I see 'artwork'.
Maybe this is what Talia spoke of before I died?
I see nothing but a woman in eternity, a deferential decidedly as if fact tone. Oozing an aura that makes the heart race.
Why is that?
Lias would call it a mystery for ignorant me.
It shakes the core of the heart. But the two that I watched, haven't had their hearts shake like the others.
Very few were like them.
Why is that?
Some are outspoken of what they lived through, few say nothing. A majority speak of it if it only matches the situation. Like a comparison. Like a vague dream.
Glason doesn't speak of anything. Neither does Deacon.
I had given up that mystery, but the woman's words had crumbled them into secluding themselves.
It was only after persistence did I manage to get them out to ask one question.
Just one question.
I wouldn't bother them again after that.
With thoroughly displeased faces, they had come with me.
"Actually got your mouth shown shut?" the woman scoffed. "Proving me right…"
"I want to ask you a question." I asked. "Or well, them."
I looked at them.
Glason closed his right eye.
The lips of Deacon gathered a growing hatred.
"...How exactly do you know of us?" Glason opened his eye.
The mask turned slightly.
"Huh."
She crossed her arms, catching my eye as the fat called breasts were pushed a bit into a more bulging shape.
My body tensed but I remembered the several smacks to my head will never come.
Dragging my eye off the instinctual response, the mask looked upwards. Rolling to the left or right.
It reminds me of someone not really sure how to say.
Or maybe it's something different..?
Then she spoke.
"The basic answer is he told me."
"He?"
"The alternative answer is I do and I don't."
That…
Um….
"Is that it?" I blankly spat out without meaning.
"What does know even mean to you."
"Ha of course." Deacon said.
"...Then…"
The woman shrugged.
With a toothy grin Deacon gave his question.
"What makes you so special you damn bitch with a slut body?"
Uh.
"A black heart will always be a black heart." Glason clicked his tongue.
"Dude you just ruined everything!"
"So what." he snorted.
"S-Sorry!"
She didn't say anything.
Her hand gently touched the mask.
"I was born this way."
Uh– oh.
"I was the one everyone wanted."
"I had everything."
The wicked smile Deacon had slowly withered away.
"It was rather mundane. Nothing special. I didn't have to do anything."
Her foot shifted.
"When I got sucked into that story, I lost my mind. By choice? What is choice? I am made special."
"Narcissistic are you?"
"If your belief is that after feeling it, you really don't have a brain."
"Don't feel a damn thing."
She took a step.
"Sure sure you don't feel a thing. You felt it after she died. My bad. "Changed". The great noble of the house."
Another step.
"What are you talking about? There's no great noble. God, speak straight."
"Sure. Veliza Salus."
Deacon's face froze.
Glason reacted with interest.
"You know, after everything, at the end, she just had to lose it like I had."
"What, what d–"
"Tragic." her voice. "Jealousy got the best of her. Drove the blade straight into the heart."
"That she wouldn't."
"Oh because her blade would do it for her. What blade? She's unlucky for even falling for it in the first place… And you're here. The blade she needed."
"Because I protected her!"
"The laments of a lo~ser." she snickered. "What protection, a ghost in the shell?"
She got closer.
"Because of her naivety, she believed everything, because of her, we argued, because of her, she killed Eshelle, because of her, we had to kill her, because of her, I was stuck seeing those stupid faces, because of her, because of her–"
The mask with engravings began to fill.
"I was just a violent murderer with no kindness for no reason." her voice shook.
A thin line drew on Deacon's lips.
"Heh. Because I'm even more special that way."
I didn't feel like asking a question in this atmosphere.
It wasn't the right thing to do.
I know nothing of this woman.
She passed us.
Then stopped.
"That Veliza Salus."
She sighed.
"You probably noticed, they weren't the same. Perhaps if he feels like it, you'll see your 'Veliza Salus' again."
She then walked away.
Muttering quietly under her breath.
— —
"Hnnnnnnnnnnnnnngh!!!!!!!!!!!"
I smacked my mouth.
"You just suck."
"It-It's all over–"
"Cover me blindfolded and not a damn thing will change."
He let out a long croak and flopped on the floor.
"Mother fudging.."
"Hey I'm just that good." I cheekily smiled.
"BUUUUULL!! WHAT KINDA CHEESE COMBO IS THIS?!?!"
"Dawg, I jus press the button. What'd you want from me."
Maybe, just maybe, mashing random buttons, doesn't work?
He looked at the screen with dead eyes.
"This is all your fault."
"What did I do???"
"Everything."
"Maaan go fuck yourself."
"Don't need to ask, I already do that."
"What?"
He got up with some kinda jank in his bones.
"Ooough…"
He groaned like an old man.
"Where you going?"
"I'm hungry."
He went into the open kitchen and opened a box on the fridge with exaggerated vigor.
"What are you making?"
"It's on the box."
"I can't read from here." I leaned back on the sofa.
"Skill issue."
"Uh-huh what is it?"
"Pasta."
"Wow, basic."
"I'm making it because if you weren't here, It'd just be me, and I'd be a bum watching T-VEE until I finally wished to be free from hunger and make some kind of Abomination."
"Are you trying to rhyme?"
"Uh, noh."
"Whatever."
I looked through his TV and found literally but the barebone apps. The youtube equivalent, and embedded subscription services.
"Wow you have genuinely nothing. Not even the ones here."
"For what?"
"Like, you don't have a subscription. For anything."
"I'm broke."
"You're THE guy they give everything to."
"The who? I'm the guy everyone forgets about."
"Bro. They call you 'The Progenitor'. Are you not gonna capitalize on it?"
"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.." he looked at me with a dumb face. "Who?"
He cheekily grinned for a sec.
"The world praises a guy like this. We're fucked." I shook my head.
"Now hold on a second! I never said that!"
I looked at him with my eyes.
"It was a misinput."
"What the fuck do you mean misinput."
"Okay, well uh, my brain lagged, and the forced conversion failed."
"Get back to making pasta."
"Yes Ma'am." he ugly cried.
His account on the youtube equivalent was strange.
"You watch some…. Interesting stuff."
"Well my loyal minions sometimes come watch in here. Also the hunted."
"I thought it was just you?"
"If it was just me, I would be in my undies everyday. Oh the dignity of a man with people…"
"What's that supposed to mean."
"If you were to think of my area as the manager's office, then the rest of them are in apartments down the hall."
"So the rooms down the hall are…"
"My very definitely four loyal minions and the hunted, yes."
That… kind of hurted my heart.
"Generally it's a separated space, but at the time it was originally mine, but except for my minions, it was for the most part empty. And I was too lazy to make a new area sooo…"
"Aren't you not lonely then?"
"What defines loneliness is and isn't. Uh. Something."
I rolled my eyes.
"I like being by myself. But at certain times, I just… Don't feel like it. Besides me and them, we aren't the same."
Riveting.
"So you asked for me?"
"...Yeah."
A light smile grew on my lips.
"Damn, get some friends buddy."
His face soured as he turned to put the pot on the stove.
"So, how confident are you at cooking?"
"Oh very. Enough to not get poisoned."
"That's 'very' reassuring."
"Indeed it is."
…I don't think he heard the sarcasm in that.
Truly a hopeless man.
Alas.
Wait I still have the work.
"Ugh."
"?"
What're you looking at me like that? You're the one that–
"I still have work, you know."
"Weeeeeeeell, I can help with that."
"How so?"
"Trust me, I know da wey."
"...Thanks?"
"You're welcome."
Uh.
Well.
It was so easy…?
"Actually, how exactly are you going to do that?"
"Division of labor."
He's dumping it on someone else.
I gave a silent prayer (not really) to the victim.
Such is the way of life.
Hitherto called reality.
"Whew."
"It's done?"
"I literally just pu–"
"Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat! By magic it's cooked already?!"
He glanced at it.
"Heh."
He raised his hands that trembled with a straight pained face that held it in.
"Gonna add anything?"
"When it's done." he walked to the couch and sat down.
"What'd you wanna watch?"
"I dunno."
We didn't get anywhere until the pasta was ready.
The man is one picky chooser of what he watches.
I can say for certain however, that pasta made by his hands Got me to rethink my life decisions.