milliways_bar | (no subject)

It's really kind of a roller-coaster ride, emotionally speaking: happy, depressed. Shocked, ecstatic. Musical, stilted. And through it all runs one thought: why should death be any easier than life? We come here knowing what we know but that shouldn't be all. It shouldn't be. There's more. Even just now, as he played a few tunes on his sax upstairs before setting it down, almost in a state of despair because he loves it too much, if there's any such thing.

He wants to keep on learning. Doing. Loving. Living. And he wonders how much time he has on his clock: Charlie said no one had been here for longer than two years. But musicians are notoriously bad at keeping time if they're not playing; he knows that so very well.

Gren used to have no fear of death, and he still doesn't. But he does have a healthy apprehension for what comes after death.

He takes a seat at the bar, but he doesn't order food and he doesn't order drink. He just takes it all in, thinking that it just might be a good idea to meet more people. At least that will distract him from his philosophizing -- something he's never been very good at.

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Stella can't think of anything to say, so she just nods quietly and lightly rests her hand on Grens. She lets her eyes fall closed. It takes her a moment to get the old feeling back. She takes note of everything she can get, but there are two things that would help her even more. "Do you mind if I touch your face?"

She needed to hear his voice, and feel the shape of his features, that would help a great deal.

"Go ahead. I promise I don't have any weird communicable diseases or anything." He smiles just a little bit for her, then directs her hand to his face.

There just what she needed. Not just his words, but she needed to focus on what was underneath the words, the sounds, the pauses, everythign that made up a voice. Gentle, but firm, passion, determination, such beautiful traits that were brought into sharp relief by sadness and experience. "You're... beautiful..." She whispered, even before her fingers brush his skin. Her fingertips traveled across his face and she was happy to realize the mental image matched what she had seen of him as best as could be expected. "Looks like I still have the touch."

Gren smiles at her words. "You're very sweet. And of course you still have the touch: I doubt that's something you can ever lose. But if you start to feel that way, just let me know and we can do this again."

He laughs. He's been called beautiful many times before, both by people who knew him and people who didn't. It doesn't always mean anything to him any more but tonight, coming from her in this way, it does.

"I'm really glad you came over and sat down, Stella."

"Thanks. I'll have to take you up on that sometime."

Then she blushes, and looks down at her tea cup. She's not sure why, but Cypher crossess her mind and she wonders where he's been. Her eyes flick up at Gren, and she realizes she should say something, but can't think of anything right away. Eventually she shrugs slightly and says "You looked like you wanted someone to talk to, and I was so glad to have someone to talk with."

"It was my pleasure... and any time." With a mild grin he finishes his tea and sets the cup back on the bar. "Take care. I think it's time for me to be going back upstairs."

He's a little bit more of a social butterfly than Julia, but still: he wants to take care of her. She's his friend, and friends care for one another. And he knows he doesn't owe any explanations, but out of politeness, he'll tell Stella. "I've got a friend there waiting for me." Gren shrugs a little bit and stands, then reaches out and squeezes her hand. "Goodnight, Stella."