The Black Pot

"Right. Advice."

He nods as Ianto finishes speaking and gets to his feet, leaning against his table for a moment. "Well, when you get to be my age, you've heard a fair amount, given a fair amount... So, here is the best possible advice I can give you, advice based on -- and I'm not joking -- centuries of experience."

He holds up two fingers and nods once, quite serious. "It's actually a two-parter."

He continues on, speaking loudly, walking among the tables. "One, is run."

"But not right now," he adds quickly. "Just... in general. Well... more specifically, know when to run. That is one of the most important pieces of advice I could give anyone. Saved my life countless times."

"Now then, B..." he trails off, brow furrowing. "Or... Two." His brow furrows further. "Whatever. Wear trainers. Obviously, this is connected to A..." He stops again and sighs wearily. "I mean one. But... Really, there's something to be said for practical shoes. Definitely makes running easier."

He abruptly stops walking. "And that's it. Simple, really." A beaming smile crosses his face. "Any questions?"

Ianto takes a deep breath as he stands. He certainly knows the best advice he was ever given. He doesn't even have to think about it, not even for a second. But talking about it....Well, that's something else altogether. It's so deeply personal, from a time in his life he's tried to move on from. Tried fairly successfully, he thinks.

He tries to figure out where to start. "I used to live in London," he begins quietly, not even sure if anyone can hear. "But one day, there was an....accident, at work. A horrible accident. A lot of people died. People I loved, people I cared for. And a lot of people I didn't know. Just innocent bystanders. I was one of the few survivors. I went back to Cardiff, went back to work, but decided that rather than face that pain, that loss and that grief again, I would just stay...numb. Empty. It was so easy; it didn't hurt at all. I didn't have to feel, have to think. I just went and did my job, and if I did it well enough, no one even noticed me. And that was what I wanted. You can't care about people, can't get close to them, can't lose them, if they don't even notice you're there." He shudders a bit, remembering that, that emptiness, and how could he ever have thought that that was good? "But then, someone told me, Jack told me, that that was no way to live my life. That maybe it didn't hurt, but it could never feel good, either. I was missing out on so much, that my life could be so much more than I was making it. I could be happy again. Enjoy things again. Love again."

He sits back down rather hurriedly, resolutely studying his hands resting on the table.

He was everywhere and anywhere and now he was here. Binky waited outside, having a nibble off of a sad, shrubby looking thing in a pot by the kerb. Inside, he listened thoughtfully, nursing something sticky with an umbrella in it. Death sighed. Humans were all the same. They asked for advice, gave advice, listened, didn't listen, looked in the strangest of places for the answers to questions they didn't even understand the asking of. Still, if even one person paid attention, it would be worth it. It’d be different anyway. He got to his feet and cleared his throat portentously. "COWER NOW, BRIEF MORTALS, FOR I AM DEATH, 'GAINST WHOM NO LOCK WILL HOLD NOR FASTEN'D PORTAL BAR." He looked around the room. "I’M SORRY," he said, patting at his robe. "I SEEM TO HAVE PICKED UP THE WRONG SCRIPT." He coughed, embarrassed. "YES, WELL. IT’S LIKE THIS- BASICALLY, YOU GET WHAT YOU THINK YOU HAVE COMING TO YOU. THAT’S ALL THERE IS TO IT. DON’T COMPLICATE THINGS UNNECESSARILY."

Caprica thinks about that for awhile as she's listening. Advice. That's something she's struggling with, in some ways. She speaks from her seat, taking her time sorting through it. "I think I'm having some difficulty with advice." Her gaze darts to the side and then back to the audience.

"I've given a little good advice before. There was a time when I told my lover at the time, Gaius, to get down, and he did. It saved his life from a nuclear shockwave."

Her brow furrows, considering, and then she shrugs and continues. "I don't know. As for advice I've been given—"

She tenses, gaze fixing off to her left side, expression turning more anxious.

Her posture sinks with resignation and her eyes track around to the front. "Yes." She looks back to the crowd and draws a deep breath. "I mean that yes, I've been given advice before. But I think it's a difficult thing, knowing if you should listen— to whatever it is. To a friend, or a learned person, or the voice... the voice— inside yourself. Your conscience, perhaps. But I don't know, what do you do if you don't think you can trust your conscience? I think I'd like to hear some thoughts rather than offer any advice of my own."

Just at full dark, Riddick saunters into the café. He's carrying a long white box under his arm. When he hears the discussion topic, he snorts derisively. "No one ever gave me any advice. I had to learn the hard way. But I've got some pearls of wisdom I'm willing to pass along." He pulls out a chair and sits down. "One, there's no such word as friend. Two, bow to no man. And three, you keep what you kill." He puts the box on the table and props his feet up next to it, tipping the chair back. "That last is gonna come back to haunt me."

Data stands up. He isn't quite sure how to put this. “Much of the advice humans give is confusing or contradictory in nature. You say ‘Many hands make light work', but also that 'Too many cooks spoil the broth.' Or 'Slow and steady wins the race', but on the other hand you say 'He who hesitates is lost'. And I do not understand how a stitch in time can save nine. Nine what? Lack of specificity makes the advice useless. I am also at a loss to understand why you should never eat spinach with a stranger.” He looks around the café. “I do not intend any offense. It is just that I do not know what the best advice to follow is and I do not understand how you decide. However, I appreciate the recommendation about the bacon. Apparently, I am fortunate that I do not need to eat."

No one's said anything yet, and Rusty figures it's been a while since he's opened his own piehole, so...

He clears his throat as he stands. "Best advice I ever got was this: 'stand on eighteen, hit on fifteen'."

He starts to sit down again and notices a few people eyeballing him like he's said something weird. "Seriously. That was the best advice I ever got." He gives a little half-shrug when his butt hits the chair.

So you're all fairly smart individuals with some interesting life experiences. And if you're not fairly smart and haven't had interesting life experiences, I'm sure you know someone who is, and who has.

The topic for discussion this month is advice. If you could offer one piece of advice, what would it be? And what about advice you've been given? Have you ever had any shockingly bad advice? Or has someone given you advice that has turned out to be a life-saver?

Share your wisdom, and let me give you this advice: avoid the bacon this morning.

The tag for this month is advice, and don't forget to claim the month for your character here