Revelations (Part Two)

Who: Tara, Guy-Who-May-Or-May-Not-Be-Keto (But you can call him Bob) (But
don't.)
Where: AR Suite
When: It's not long before two in the morning IRL. Give me a break.
=====================
<<SNIP>>
> Tara looked from Keto to the device and back to Keto again.
> "So are you sure you're Keto?" She asked, tryig to get her head
> around it.
> "Yes Cleavage I am Charles Keto!" He groweled. The needle jumped and
> the device blew all it's fuses.
> "What the smeg?" Tara said.
<<END SNIP>>
"Damn it!" snarled the man, dropping the scorched bundle of electrics. Taking
advantage of his momentary distraction, Tara jumped forwards and snatched the
metal bar out of his other hand, pushing him backwards as she did so.
Stumbling, the man lost his balance and fell over with a crack.
"AGH! MY COCCYX!" yelled the man.
"Shut up and tell me the truth!" ordered Tara, stepping deliberately on the
man's hand as he tried to stand again, "Are you Keto or not?"
"YES! YES, I'M KETO!" said the man, "NOW PLEASE ALLOW BLOOD BACK INTO MY
FINGERS!"
Reluctantly, Tara reduced the pressure on her foot a bit - but not totally.
Breathing painfully, the man glared up at her.
"That's definitely a Keto glare," conceded Tara.
"Your astuteness astounds me," growled the figure, "Will you get off me now?"
"Why did the machine blow up just then?" pressed Tara.
The man was silent for a moment, until Tara lost patience and put her weight
on his knuckles again. His resolve seemed to weaken somewhat.
"OKAY! Okay!" he cried out, "I'm not Charles Keto!"
"You just said you WERE!" snapped Tara, getting frustrated, "Which is it!?"
"I *am* Keto, but I'm not *Charles* Keto," gasped the man finally, and Tara
removed her foot.
As he sat there, clutching his rather malformed digits, Tara stared at him in
partial puzzlement and partial disbelief.
"You're not Charles Keto, but you are Keto?" she blinked, "How do you mean?"
The man looked up at her coldly.
"I'm Charles Keto's brother," he hissed.
=========
OOC: Tag. :P As soon as your computer becomes unfried, that is. Or until
someone else walks into the AR Suite. Or until I spontaneously combust. The
possibilities are limitless.