Pierrette Manderas

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

Passidex entries

 * You have met Pierrette.
 * You thought about when you met Pierrette.
 * You already knew 'La Pierre'.
 * You told Pierrette the truth.
 * You lied to Pierrette.
 * Pierrette invited you up...
 * ...and you accepted.
 * ...and you refused.
 * Your head is spinning.



Transcript
« 11th arrondissement, please. »

Your next passenger climbs into the cab and slams the door. The entire taxi shakes for a few seconds. When she tells you where she wants to go, her voice cuts through the night. She has a rather pronounced Spanish accent... and a lilt you recognise immediately.

HOUSSINE: "You from Marseilles?"

She lifts her eyes towards yours.

PIERRETTE: "Yeah..."

You pick up on the surprise in her voice.

PIERRETTE: "How do you know that?"

HOUSSINE: "I recognised your accent."

PIERRETTE: "No one recognises my accent. The journalists all still think I'm Spanish..."

HOUSSINE: "The journalists?"

She lowers her eyes.

HOUSSINE: "Am I supposed to know who you are?"

PIERRETTE: "I'm Pierrette Manderas."

She watches you.

PIERRETTE: "I'm the chef at "La Pierre." "

You nod.

HOUSSINE: "I've heard of it..." ** REQUIRES READING/HEARING ABOUT 'LA PIERRE' **

PIERRETTE: "From the other passengers? They were probably the last... I'm closing the restaurant."

« Not enough clients? »   « Too much work? »   « Why? »

TBA

TBA

See below...

PIERRETTE: "We..."

Your passenger sighs.

PIERRETTE: "You see... we lost a star. We used to have two... and now we only have one. I know it seems trivial -- it's just a star attributed by a food critic. But it's the beginning of the end... of a slow and painful death. I don't want to live through that. So I'm closing. I told everyone tonight: we'll finish out the week and pack up. I'm giving them all two months' pay so they can enjoy the holidays and relax a bit..."

Something outside catches her eye.

PIERRETTE: "We could all really use a break."

« You're going to leave without putting up a fight? »   « It's a tough profession? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

PIERRETTE: "Put up a fight?"

You've hurt your passenger's feelings. You can tell she's angry... that she's taking deep breaths to stifle it.

PIERRETTE: "I won't tell you how to do your job... And I'm not going to complain. Out of the question."

She looks away -- you can tell she's calming down.

PIERRETTE: "Like you... we work odd hours. Weekends. Holidays. Throughout the summer. I know you get it."

She sniffles softly.

PIERRETTE: "I make a good living. But even more importantly, I think, this is the life I chose. I hope you're also living a life you chose..."

She clicks her tongue and swears, though you couldn't quite hear what she said.

PIERRETTE: "The pressure... is unbelievable. Its what drives is to work, be creative, make constant improvements... But when you lose a star..."

She takes a break... a much-needed one. Her voice was about to crack.

PIERRETTE: "Your whole business falls apart when you lose a star. All your doubts come back to haunt you. No matter what you do, it's a losing battle. If you try and maintain the quality of your establishment, they call you blind and incapable. If you try to make real change, they say you're not serious... that you're unstable."

Her voice is no more than a whisper.

PIERRETTE: "That's why I'm closing."

« It's a losing battle... »   « No more energy... »   (Nod.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

PIERRETTE: "Yeah, the dice are clearly loaded..."

She shrugs. She looks out at the road going by.

« What are you going to do now? »   « Are you going to change professions? »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

See below...

TBA

PIERRETTE: "Me? Change professions?"

She has a delightful laugh.

PIERRETTE: "Never! I started cooking because I loved fish and seafood. I'm not going to stop because of all of these... moronic Parisians. I'm going to get back to cooking in MY kitchen and making the food I want to make. The sea... contains such beautiful things... I want to get back to fishing, you see? Digging my hands into fish..."

She pauses. You notice the frankness of her voice... She talks to you like a friend.

PIERRETTE: "You're from Marseilles too? Is that it?"

You nod.

PIERRETTE: "Whereabouts?"

(Tell the truth.) (Hesitate.) (Lie.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

HOUSSINE: "Aubagne."

PIERRETTE: "Ah. Nice area. The good life, eh?"

She winks. You're not far from your destination now. Your passenger starts talking in a low voice. You can't tell if she's talking to you, or to herself...

PIERRETTE: "I want to find a little someplace nice near the coast. I have cash. I have time. I have the desire. I've got it all."

Her voice drops.

PIERRETTE: "I'm going to tell them all to go fuck themselves."

She laughs a deep, guttural laugh. You park in front of an unassuming grey building. You passenger goes to pay you.

PIERRETTE: "I live in a tiny apartment... bare bones... I usually have dinner about this time."

She sighs.

PIERRETTE: "You wanna come up?"

You look right at her.

« I can't. » « Ok, but not for long. »   « No, thank you. »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

TBA

She smiles candidly.

PIERRETTE: "Fine. Keep the change and... have a good evening."

Your passenger slams the door and walks away. She disappears into her building without looking back. You hold tight to the steering wheel for a minute before driving off.