Gérard Peticourt

Gérard is one of the many passengers you can pick up in Night Call.

Unlockable achievement: L'Homme libre.

Passidex

 * You have met Gérard.
 * This is unmissable. You'll get it upon your first interaction.


 * You lied to Gérard.
 * You were honest with Gérard.
 * You agreed with Gérard: when the city doesn't want it, it's not happening.
 * You thought about when you met Gérard.

The last entry appears to be unobtainable. *UNCONFIRMED*



Transcript
« I need to go for a drive... »

The passenger getting in the backseat has an air about him that is all too familiar. When he asks you just to drive around, you agree and start driving. He just got out of jail. His jeans are stiff and clearly brand new. His shoes are worn to the core and the style he's wearing has been off the market for years. He watches you watching him. He sizes you up without judgement. He speaks first.

GÉRARD: "You do that to all your clients?"

« Yes. »   « What are you talking about? »   (Say nothing.)

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TBA

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GÉRARD: "What's your problem? You scared? Makin' sure we can all pay our fare? I can pay, ok? I've got cash... 'Cuz you'd better not mess with me, you dig it? I can see you giving me the once-over in the mirror. Your momma never told you it's not nice to stare?"

His tone is not harsh, just a bit curt. Something about his voice - the way it drags, the heavy Parisian accent - brings you back to the 70s and 80s.

« Don't take it the wrong way. »   (Say nothing.)

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He stares at you in the mirror and says nothing more. Then, at long last...

GÉRARD: "Hey, man, sorry. It's been a long day."

HOUSSINE: "No harm done."

GÉRARD: "I'm hungry as hell and I drank too much."

He pauses. Something about his behaviour draws your attention.

« No time? »   « Couldn't find a good restaurant? »   « Something wrong? »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

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He stares at you for a second before grinning.

GÉRARD: "It's just that... it's been ages since I ate... in the city. Food is all too sugary, too fatty. There's something syrupy about it. Makes me want to puke. But that's not thw worst, seriously."

He closes his eyes like he's thinking really hard about something.

GÉRARD: "It's the noise. It never... stops. The motor there... it's like a plane coming down for landing."

Your passenger stares at you, sees in your face that you're safe to talk to, that he can trust you.

GÉRARD: "I actually went to the library earlier, to take a break from all the racket. I wandered through the bookshelves. Didn't know what to read. I used to read a lot. I think. Now though... now... I'd never heard of any of the stuff. The names on the book covers, magazines, newspapers... it's all way too different."

He pulls something shiny out of his pocket. A key.

GÉRARD: "Hey, there any way you could drive me over to Saint-Lazare?"

You nod.

GÉRARD: "My mum'll probably be pretty freaked out to see me, but at least out there, there won't be nothin' but the wind, the grass, the bubbling of the coffee machine."

Rain starts banging on the windshield.

GÉRARD: "Glad I'm in here..."

He pauses.

GÉRARD: "My mum feels guilty. She blames herself completely. She thinks it's her fault, but she didn't do anything. She totally knows my cousin's the one who shot 'em all, but since he died too, well."

He pulls the key back out of his pocket, spins it around his fingers, puts it away.

GÉRARD: "Well, they grabbed the first loser they could get their hands on. My mum, though. She was like, nah it must be her fault. Mothers. Shit. Who can understand 'em? Mine woulda killed someone to get me out of jail. She kept sendin' me these letters as long as my arm saying she wanted to trade places with me. Like that's the way the justice system works, right?! Actually, if it was, there'd be no more rich people in jail. Not a single one! Just poor people!"

He laughs a deep belly laugh.

GÉRARD: "They'd all be lining up at the door, just waitin' to get out of jail with their pockets fulla loot. Fuckin' idiots, man. Ya gotta be a total moron to want to go to prison, even if you'd be rollin' in it when you got out. Can I ask you a question?"

« Yes. »   (Say nothing.)

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GÉRARD: "I'm warning you, you're not gonna like it... You've done time, haven't you? That's how you knew I did too, right?"

« Seven years. »   « I've never been to jail. »   (Say nothing.)

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GÉRARD: "Not bad... What were you in for?"

(Tell the truth.) (Lie.) (Say nothing.)

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HOUSSINE: "Murder... This violent guy who hit one too many times. Been driving ever since. It relaxes me. Calms me down. Keeps me busy."

GÉRARD: "Keeping busy. That's important."

HOUSSINE: "Very. Otherwise you get into some bad shit."

GÉRARD: "Or you think about getting into some bad shit."

HOUSSINE: "Yeah."

GÉRARD: "Yup."

A moment of silence.

HOUSSINE: "I learned things on the inside."

GÉRARD: "It's good for that. Those guys - the judges and lawyers - they don't really know what it's good for."

HOUSSINE: "Yeah."

He pauses.

GÉRARD: "The guys I was in there with didn't think the way you do. You seem like a good guy."

You pull up in front of the Gare Saint-Lazare. Your passenger doesn't budge.

GÉRARD: "I can't wait to get outta the city. I worked my ass off to live here... but I'm not allowed to anymore. They never talk about that in jail. Ya got group therapy, advisors, psycho-whateverthefucks. They talk about the rehabilitation, but the city... when it's done with you, it's done."

He pays you with a wink of his eyes, gets out of the cab and walks toward the train station.

