16 Two Jokes for the Price of One

I had broken at least three of the rules listed during the log-in routine within the first ten minutes of actually using the terminal. Plugging in a USB stick containing a VPN was the first, although technically it wasn't "modifying the OS". Downloading all results pages produced by searching for Yosserian in Sussex's hatch, match and dispatch records as html plus files was the second thing. Then I modified the screen saver's last line to "But Not Today". As a parting gift I set up a bogus Spotify account, typed Frank Zappa into the search and turned on the sound. Screen locked as per instructions,  USB safely in my pocket, I waved at Edna, who didn't seem to be enjoying 'Don't Eat The Yellow Snow'.

Outside, my fellow ex-serviceman was standing in a circle composed of very short cigarette butts. Maybe it was some kind of clock, as there were 12.  By my calculation, that meant he had five left in the packet, since he had one glued to his bottom lip. I handed him his Photo ID and library card.
'Are you on Antabuse?' I asked him.
'No. Not for a while.' He shuffled his feet, knocking the five and six of his fag-end clock a few inches along the pavement.
'So are we going for a coffee or a beer? Your choice, I'm buying.'
He looked like he was about to cry. 'Can we have a coffee in a pub?'
'Take me to your dealer.' I said.

Naturally, we ended up in a 'Spoons pub. Hastings's is named after John Logie Baird, who invented television in Hastings. Well, not just for Hastings, for the benefit of all mankind, obviously. As to how many of the regulars present that day, at just before noon, could have told you who exactly John Logie Baird was, who knows? I wanted a beer, but in deference to my new-found friend's addiction issues, I got two double -shot espressos and we took them out to the courtyard, because I knew he'd want to  keep smoking until the last ciggy was gone.

'John Smith? Really?' I said as we sat in the yard behind the pub.
'Really.'
'What did they call you, in the mob?'
'Magnet. It was…'
'I know what it was, John Smith's Bitter in parade dress, tasted even worse though.'
'No, it was usually "Shit Magnet". Two jokes for the price of one, since I was usually in trouble'
'Never your fault though, eh?'
'That's what I thought at the time. Now…' He lifted one shoulder as if lifting two would have been too much effort.
'So, are you sleeping rough?'
'No. Ms. Beveridge usually lets me sleep in the reading room, if the library isn't busy. I get about four hours a day, between 11.00 and 15.00hrs. Except Sundays, of course… Hey! You didn't piss her off too much, did you?'
'Of course not.' It wasn't exactly a lie, maybe she was a closet Frank Zappa fan. 'What do you do Sundays, then?'
'I sleep in churches. Catholic Mass is the longest. But when it's finished, the choices aren't so good. The Evangelicals are too noisy and the Anglicans want you out in case the people from Songs of Praise turn up for a recce. I still get by.'
He did look tired, but I knew people who slept less in their comfortable beds at night.
'So you're up all night, every night?'
'I stay out of the shadows, where I can. If you don't act like a victim… Well, if you're a bloke, anyway. I try not to scare the women myself. I don't so much give them a wide berth, as run in the opposite direction. Think that might be spooking some of them anyway.'

 
I gave him 80 quid in twenties and told him to tell the guy on the desk at the Hastings Premier Inn his name was 'Prospero Vint', and he'd like the deal given to the guy who'd taken his room yesterday.
'If he looks at you like you're mad, just tell him you made a mistake and keep the money.'