Dead End! (open)
Apr 20, 2012 22:26:30 GMT -5
Post by lordbeckett on Apr 20, 2012 22:26:30 GMT -5
Beckett sat at one of the tables outside a cafe, his notes spread out in front of him. Another dead end. People came, and people went. He could hardly keep up with them and incorporate them into his web of alliances. Along with the lack of advancement in his plans, Beckett also had himself to worry about; his own welfare.
"No money. No employment. Getting absolutely nowhere," he muttered under his breath for at least the tenth time that day. It wasn't a false statement; Beckett knew when he had hit rock bottom, and he had hit it quite a while ago. He wasn't used to being without income, and he CERTAINLY wasn't used to being without a source of income. Beckett never had to worry about any of that. As he was obsessively attempting to find a tangible conclusion within his notes, Beckett had expected these factors to be situated for him. Now, however (he had realized when it was far too late), there was no one to handle such matters for him. No one he could have completely trusted, anyway.
So it seemed like the end of the road. Beckett did all that he could possibly have done with his work, anything that he thought would have helped him. However, none of it got him anywhere. If anything, it had taken him in circles, and he was always right back where he had started. However, it was all the more reason to keep trying; this had always been Beckett's philosophy. Keep trying until a result is produced, even if it meant endangering himself. After all, what was he except a significant contribution to the greater good?
It seemed that he was endangering himself at the moment, although in a way that he had never thought possible. He had absolutely no money left, nor a source of employment, and he had a feeling that homelessness was about to come next. It angered him to think of it, but it would have been even more upsetting to experience it while he had been unaware of the circumstances. Apparently, he had been so obsessed with his research that he hadn't factored in the elements that were also taken from him when he had come. Cutler Beckett did not work to survive; though he dedicated his entire being to the advancement of the Company (which was, regrettably, no longer), he was undoubtedly pampered in just about everything else, especially when he had received his Lordship. Instead, he survived to work, giving everything he had and receiving everything in return.
However, there was no work. Therefore, he was unable to survive.
Beckett wasn't about to let the park make him lethargic, either. He wasn't about to sit around and "relax" anytime soon. If what he had been attempting wasn't the right way to escape this dreadful place, then Beckett was hellbent on finding another way. He needed to find a way that worked.
He needed resources.
"No money. No employment. Getting absolutely nowhere," he muttered under his breath for at least the tenth time that day. It wasn't a false statement; Beckett knew when he had hit rock bottom, and he had hit it quite a while ago. He wasn't used to being without income, and he CERTAINLY wasn't used to being without a source of income. Beckett never had to worry about any of that. As he was obsessively attempting to find a tangible conclusion within his notes, Beckett had expected these factors to be situated for him. Now, however (he had realized when it was far too late), there was no one to handle such matters for him. No one he could have completely trusted, anyway.
So it seemed like the end of the road. Beckett did all that he could possibly have done with his work, anything that he thought would have helped him. However, none of it got him anywhere. If anything, it had taken him in circles, and he was always right back where he had started. However, it was all the more reason to keep trying; this had always been Beckett's philosophy. Keep trying until a result is produced, even if it meant endangering himself. After all, what was he except a significant contribution to the greater good?
It seemed that he was endangering himself at the moment, although in a way that he had never thought possible. He had absolutely no money left, nor a source of employment, and he had a feeling that homelessness was about to come next. It angered him to think of it, but it would have been even more upsetting to experience it while he had been unaware of the circumstances. Apparently, he had been so obsessed with his research that he hadn't factored in the elements that were also taken from him when he had come. Cutler Beckett did not work to survive; though he dedicated his entire being to the advancement of the Company (which was, regrettably, no longer), he was undoubtedly pampered in just about everything else, especially when he had received his Lordship. Instead, he survived to work, giving everything he had and receiving everything in return.
However, there was no work. Therefore, he was unable to survive.
Beckett wasn't about to let the park make him lethargic, either. He wasn't about to sit around and "relax" anytime soon. If what he had been attempting wasn't the right way to escape this dreadful place, then Beckett was hellbent on finding another way. He needed to find a way that worked.
He needed resources.