Pierrot Bataz

'''POTENTIAL SPOILER WARNING: YOU ARE CURRENTLY VIEWING INFORMATION ABOUT A SUSPECT IN ONE OF THE INVESTIGATIONS. IF YOU HAVE NOT PLAYED THE THE JUDGE CASE YET, IT'S BEST TO AVOID THIS PAGE. '''

Pierrot is one of the many passengers you can pick up in Night Call. Unlockable achievement: Le Flic.

Passidex

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


 * Pierrot told you he was gay.
 * Pierrot told you about James.
 * Pierrot threw up.
 * Pierrot threw up again.
 * You advised Pierrot to talk to his colleagues.
 * You advised Pierrot to change professions.
 * You advised Pierrot to leave.
 * You dropped Pierrot off at his place.
 * You dropped Pierrot off with his colleagues.



Transcript
« I'm too drunk to drive... » NOTE: This was transcribed during the Judge case, in which Pierrot is a suspect.

You pull up in front of the address the central office gave you: a crêpe joint, quite a popular one by the looks of the line spilling out of the door and onto the sidewalk. You sit for a moment. The door opens and a group of thirtysomethings comes into view. All the men and women are dressed alike: sport, running shoes, jeans, small shoulder bags... They're officers from the Paris Anti-Crime Squad, in plain clothes. You sigh. They're brutish types. Ones who like to race, tackle, clobber... Ones who ruined the afternoons you spent wandering around Paris in your teens. After a bit, one of them pulls away from the group and comes over to your taxi. He opens the door and collapses onto the back seat. He is stocky and of Asian descent. You can see his muscles through his thick, winter clothes. He smells like crêpes and hard cider and his face is bright red.

PIERROT: "Hey! What's up? I live near Ternes..."

He chuckles as ones of his colleagues rushes over to the taxi and pulls an imaginary gun from his coat. He points to his badge and screams at you, with a big smile on his face.

PIERROT: "WHAT A DOUCHEBAG!"

The other cop eventually backs off... and you drive away.

PIERROT: "Sorry, man... We were having a go away party for a colleague... and celebrating Christmas too!"

« No worries. »   « Uh-huh... »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

Your passenger smiles... then puts his fingers back on his temples...

PIERROT: "I drank too much... Shit... I'm a lightweight and they knew it... I think they were trying to loosen my tongue."

His behaviour changes abruptly, like he's just seen a ghost.

PIERROT: "One question..."

HOUSSINE: "Yes?"

PIERROT: "Do taxi drivers have some sort of... Policy... or ethics code?"

« Uh... no. » « Not sure I understand... »   « Yes, of course. »

TBA

See below...

TBA

PIERROT: "Like priests... ...or doctors. If I tell you something... can you keep it to yourself?"

He starts speaking before you even have a chance to reply...

PIERROT: "I've been lying to my colleagues for years. I joined the squad eight years ago and... they all think I'm in a relationship with a woman who lives in Strasbourg... And that we're going to get married..."

He makes a strange yelping noise, like an air bubble bursting on the surface of a river.

PIERROT: "As soon as they get too close to Strasbourg, I start making up stories. We've almost broken up ten times. I... I convinced them we're trying to have a kid, but it hasn't worked yet..."

He sighs.

PIERROT: "Fuck... Saying it out loud is just the worst..."

His eyes are getting shiny.

PIERROT: "I'm gay."

A deep breath...

PIERROT: "I'm getting married in a few weeks... to my boyfriend."

Another breath... longer... deeper.

PIERROT: "No one at work knows... not a soul."

The next sentences come out in a rush. He holds his breath the whole time.

PIERROT: "I... I like men. I've always liked men. But I work in a police station and listen to their comments... to their jokes all day long... When we catch a guy who's never done time before, we tell him briefly what he should expect. We talk about the violence... about the..."

Finally, he breathes in again.

PIERROT: "I say "we" because I'm in on it. Because I can say fag any time of day, without any prompting. The word rolls off my tongue completely naturally. Fag."

He finally looks you in the eye.

PIERROT: "They're not mean..."

« Who? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

He shakes his head.

PIERROT: "My colleagues... My colleagues aren't mean people. They're cops... not mean... just doing the job. We..."

He manages to flash a tiny, crooked smile.

PIERROT: "You know what I'd really like?"

He pauses.

PIERROT: "I'd like to have them over for dinner. Everybody on the squad. They could see my place. We could play a board game... something normal, you know? And they could meet James."

« He's your... partner? »   « He's your husband-to-be? »   « Who's he? »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

See below...

TBA

TBA

He takes a moment to think about your question.

PIERROT: "Yes... soon."

He smiles at last. A genuine smile.

PIERROT: "Can you believe it? We're getting married in two weeks. After living together for nine years... For nine years, he's been willing to live in a lie..."

« Does he hold it against you? »   « He understands? »   « James? He's English? »

TBA

See below...

TBA

PIERROT: "It's wild... but... yes. He knows I love my job and couldn't possibly do anything else... He loves me enough to let me keep lying."

He slowly shakes his head.

PIERROT: "But I can't go on like this. I have to..."

He freezes.

PIERROT: "Shit, my head is spinning... I don't feel so good. Why am I telling you all this? Why?"

He grabs onto the seat in front of him.

PIERROT: "Hey... can you... pull over?"

You stop immediately. He opens the door and leans the top half of his body out. He throws up. You open your window to air out the greasy smell of fried crêpes and the sour scent of cider. A moment later, the cop sits back up.

PIERROT: "Ok... I'm all set... I got it all out..."

You start driving again.

PIERROT: "I'm sorry... really..."

« It's alright... »   « As long as it's not in my taxi... »   « Breathe... »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

TBA

See below...

TBA

PIERROT: "Yeah... yeah... you're right..."

You nod while your passenger moans and quietly says...

PIERROT: "I'm sorry..."

« Don't worry. »   « Yeah, just be careful, ok? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

TBA

He pauses to catch his breath.

PIERROT: "Shit, I haven't barfed like that since last Easter... They made me drink this South African liquor... something with cream and cocoa. Nasty. I can still picture it: I was doing shots while they shouted my name. KARATE KID! KARATE KID!"

« Karate Kid? »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

See below...

He seems uncomfortable.

PIERROT: "It's my... It's my nickname on the squad."

HOUSSINE: "Karate?"

PIERROT: "Yeah... I was a judo champion. And I'm a gook. So..."

He runs his hands along the sides of his body, like he's showcasing it for the home shopping network.

PIERROT: "So, Karate Kid. Yeah, I know, it makes no sense..."

« It's racist. »   (Say nothing.)

See below...

TBA

PIERROT: "Well... yeah... a little... But at first, I didn't say anything. And now... ...I mean... I'm used to it."

He stops suddenly.

PIERROT: "Everything's spinning again. Could... can you..."

You pull over. A repeat of last time: he opens the door, leans his head out... his torso... his arms... The sound makes your stomach churn, so you stare straight ahead.

PIERROT: "Can... can I ask you a question?"

More puke on the sidewalk. A little inside the vehicle...

« Right now? »   « Go ahead. »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

See below...

TBA

HOUSSINE: "Fine... Shoot."

He sits up... prompts you to drive.

PIERROT: "So... here goes. What should I do? Should I... keep on keeping on? ShouldI confess? Should I invite them to my wedding and surprise them?"

He pauses. It's a long one.

HOUSSINE: "I..."

PIERROT: "Be straight with me. What would you do if you were me? If you were in my shoes?"

HOUSSINE: "I think you're being hard on yourself. You're hurting yourself rather than trying to solve the problem. You're not going to change your sexual orientation... or leave your husband. So there aren't a ton of alternatives."

« You have to tell them. »   « You have to find a new profession. »   « You have to leave here. »

See below...

TBA

TBA

PIERROT: "Tell them... Wow. I've gotta tell them..."

He looks at you in the mirror.

PIERROT: "Can you take me somewhere else? If you don't mind..."

HOUSSINE: "I don't mind."

PIERROT: "My colleagues are at a bar. I'll go see them. Tell them everything. If I don't do it now... then... I'll never do it."

A smile of relief spreads across his face.

HOUSSINE: "It's not just the alcohol talking?"

PIERROT: "Yes. But I think it's about the 10th time I've gotten wasted this month. You're right -- I'm hurting myself."

He gives you the new address.

PIERROT: "I need to tell them now. I feel terrible.. but I think I'll feel better if... ...if I speak to them directly."

His headache is apparently back, and has knocked him out a bit. You're used to drunk people in your cab... Actually, the majority of your Saturday night passengers are drunk...

PIERROT: "I don't know how to tell them about all this..."

From the tone of his voice, you can tell he's beginning to panic.

PIERROT: "Uh, I don't think I'm ready..."

« Should I turn around? »   (Say nothing.)

TBA

See below...

Your passenger stares hard at you. You can tell your silence is giving him doubts.

PIERROT: "I want... I want to go to the bar."

He seems determined despite his shaky voice.

PIERROT: "I want to tell them about James."

You're about to say something when he cuts you off.

PIERROT: "My... My mind is made up."

He smiles briefly and you turn back towards the bar. For the remainder of this trip, your passenger is silent. From time to time, he massages his temples. His headache is persistent. When he sees you watching him in the rearview mirror, he raises a hand.

PIERROT: "Everything's fine... It's cool."

He smiles like someone slowly sobering up. Weariness replacing the alcohol. Stress taking over giddiness. You stop the car. Your passenger waits for a second. Then all of a sudden, like he just woke up, he realises you're at the bar.

PIERROT: "Already?"

HOUSSINE: "Yes..."

He pays his fare but is frozen in place.

HOUSSINE: "A piece of advice..."

« Don't drink too much. »   « Pay the first round. »   « Tell them how you feel. »   « Give them time. »

See below...

TBA

TBA

TBA

PIERROT: "Time?"

He seems surprised by your remark at first... but eventually nods.

PIERROT: "Yeah... I guess so... In any case..."

He flashes you a grin.

PIERROT: "Thank you... I don't quite remember what I said but... Thank you."

He jumps out of the taxi so quickly you'd think someone kicked him in the ass. You follow his stocky figure with your gaze... He goes into the bar... looks for his friends... and waves. You drive off.

