C-TCC03 (Dec 5, 1988)
Puzzle
"Purely hypothetical."
See: C-TCC02 | 3 Words
Clue
Hover over the clues if you require!
Clue 1: Mon Amour says that we shouldn't pretend it's on par with?
Answer and Explanation
Answer: Cult Of Pride
Explanation: This is what Lucy says the Cafe and Diner could very easily have been, but wasn't.
Summary of Receipt
Summary
Transcript
CAFE RECEIPT
RECEIPT NUMBER: TCC03
RECEIPT DATE: 12 5 1988
MANAGER TITLE: BALTIMORE
RECEIPT NOTES:
Oh, it’s not all bah-humbug. Perhaps, mon amour and my most trusted associate, I’m simply annoyed by the Zulus’ unwelcome presence at our doorstep—or rather, inside our Cafe. Not that I could have stopped them from coming in. Well, I could have, but that would likely cause more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, Shaka—the head of their Astorian Division of Esoteric Affairs and Cults—already has a key. To the back door. And the front door. And, if I had to guess, probably to every other door in this damned place.
Still, I suppose the “price” I paid for it was worth it. You can’t beat free, even with strings attached. That said, the scrape of their loafers on my polished floors grates like sandpaper against my nerves. To be clear, I don’t actually know why the Zulus are here. On the surface, they seem to be conducting one of their standard “cult checks”—busywork assigned by Alfa, paperwork routed through IRIS, and another entry for Yaksha’s endless data logs. Probably also a precautionary heads-up to the Ozhogs, in case there were a cult here hell-bent on summoning an Elder force beyond our control. Thankfully, we are not. By Indigo standards, we don’t even qualify as a cult. I suspect they’re simply jumpy about the presence of my light—and my love—Lucifer.
Speaking of, mon amour, I owe you an apology for my recent distance. My mind has been hopelessly tangled in Fate’s silken web. I fear that my obsession with it has only worsened because of my time as the Otherman—burdened with personal knowledge and expectations of what was, what is, and what is yet to come. Once the Zulus finally leave, I’d like nothing more than to enjoy the season with all of you. We have time—four years, give or take. We’re in no rush. And even if we were? I’d slow down for you.
Yours seasonally,
Balt-Humbug