[Setting: A rundown basketball court, the chain nets swaying lazily in the afternoon breeze. The God of Coincidence spins a basketball on one finger, grinning like a man who’s just discovered the concept of circles and finds it endlessly amusing. Elliot stands off to the side, arms crossed, watching Coincidence with a mix of skepticism and exhaustion.]

Elliot: “You know, for a god, you’re weirdly into basketball.”

Coincidence (spinning the ball faster): “It’s perfect, isn’t it? Chaos and structure in one game. The ball goes where you aim it… unless it doesn’t.” (He lets the ball wobble off his finger and bounce into the distance.) “See? Coincidence.”

Elliot (deadpan): “That’s just a bad spin.”

Coincidence: “That’s just your opinion.”

Elliot sighs and bends to pick up the ball, staring at its scuffed surface like it might offer him answers.

Elliot: “Alright, I’ve been meaning to ask… why don’t you and Conundrum have names? Real ones, I mean. You’re the God of Coincidence, he’s the God of Conundrum—but what does that even mean? Were you born that way? Did you lose a bet?”

Coincidence leans casually against the rusted hoop pole, his grin widening in a way that makes Elliot instantly regret asking.

Coincidence: “Ah, names! That’s a fun one. You want to know my name?”

Elliot (shrugging): “Yeah, I guess.”

Coincidence (nodding solemnly): “It’s Elliot.”

Elliot (blinking): “What?”

Coincidence (winking): “Coincidence.”

Elliot: “No, seriously. What’s your actual name?”

Coincidence (stepping closer, spinning the ball again like it’s part of his explanation): “Names are a funny thing, Elliot. Did you know that in some cultures, names were secret? Hidden, so that no one could claim power over you. A man could live his whole life as ‘Hunter’ or ‘Smith’ while his real name stayed safe in a locked box under his bed.”

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Elliot: “And what does that have to do with you being Elliot?”

Coincidence: “Everything, obviously. Here, let me explain.”

The Sprawling Narrative: “The Tale of Names, Lost and Found”

Coincidence spins the ball like it’s a globe, his voice taking on that familiar storyteller rhythm.

Coincidence: “Once upon a time—”

Elliot (groaning): “Oh, here we go.”

Coincidence (ignoring him): “—there was a man who had no name. Not because he’d forgotten it, but because he’d given it away. Traded it for a hat, of all things. Nice hat, too. Fit perfectly.”

Elliot: “What kind of idiot trades his name for a hat?”

Coincidence (nodding approvingly): “An honest one. Anyway, without his name, the man could wander anywhere unnoticed. He wasn’t John or Bill or Steve—he was just there. A shadow at the edge of the market. A quiet voice in the crowd. And you know what?”

Elliot (grumbling): “What?”

Coincidence (leaning in conspiratorially): “People trusted him. Because he didn’t claim anything. He didn’t say, ‘I am Elliot!’ or ‘I am George!’ He simply was.”

Elliot: “So what happened to the hat?”

Coincidence (grinning): “The goat ate it.”

Elliot throws up his hands.

Elliot: “Of course it did.”

Coincidence (continuing): “Now, as for me… I’ve got a name. I just don’t keep it in my pocket, waving it around like a coupon for free drinks.”

Elliot: “But you just said your name was Elliot.”

Coincidence (nodding): “It is. And it isn’t. Names are slippery, Elliot. Ever try holding water in your hands? That’s what a real name is like. The moment you think you’ve got it, it drips away.”

Elliot stares at him blankly.

Elliot: “You’re doing this on purpose.”

Coincidence (mock gasp): “Doing what?”

Elliot: “This. The who’s on first routine. You’re trying to confuse me.”

Coincidence: “I would never!” (beat) “Intentionally.”

Elliot drops the basketball and sinks onto the bench next to the court.

Elliot: “So let me get this straight: your name is Elliot?”

Coincidence (sitting beside him): “Could be.”

Elliot: “But it’s not actually your name?”

Coincidence: “Depends on the day.”

Elliot: “And if I call you Elliot—”

Coincidence: “—I might answer. Or I might not. That’s the fun part.”

Elliot buries his face in his hands.

Elliot (muffled): “I hate this.”

Coincidence (patting his shoulder): “Names are like stories, Elliot. They’re better when they’re a little open-ended. Besides—” (He points upward as a basketball arcs perfectly through the rusty hoop, though no one threw it.) “—you don’t need my name to know me.”

Elliot looks up just as the ball bounces gently to a stop at Coincidence's feet.

Elliot (grumbling): “You’re impossible.”

Coincidence (grinning): “You’re welcome.”

Elliot stands, shoving his hands into his pockets as they start to walk off the court.

Elliot (after a long pause): “If your name’s Elliot, what’s Conundrum’s name?”

Coincidence’s grin stretches impossibly wide.

Coincidence: “Oh, he’s Greg.”

Elliot (staring at him): “Greg?”

Coincidence (nodding solemnly): “Greg.”

Elliot opens his mouth to argue, but decides better of it. Somewhere in the distance, a goat bleats softly, as though it’s in on the joke.

[End Scene]

[retcon:1]