milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Jocasta is in the bar, at the piano, playing a gentle soothing piece, a love song from a recent Plinge Opera.

The idea, mostly, is to keep her mind off the friend in the infirmary, but also practice and to add to the atmosphere.

She plays well, but is unforgiving when she makes a mistake, heading back to the beginning of a movement and starting again. There aren't many mistakes, though.

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"Oh you should, it's a good time had by all...you know, save for the people within ear shot of you learning."

Mike takes the piece up tempo a bit, just because his natural sense of rhythm is spastic.

Jocasta keeps strictly to the original tempo, freeing a hand quickly to touch his wirst with warning. "You're speeding up."

"And?"

He says with a grin, half expecting a slap upside the head for his insolence.

Jocasta doesn't laugh. She tries her best to look disapproving instead.

"And if you don't keep to the same tempo as me, we'll just sound like a pair of screeching cats."

Mike slows down, but begins to Meow along with the notes he's playing.

That does get him a light smack on the back of his hand. "Do you want to learn?"

Ahh, that's more like it.

"Ma'am yes, Ma'am."

She glances at him, and sighs.

"There's no need for that."

Mike turns to grin at her with what he thinks is a charming and endearing smile.

Jocasta's gone from wanting to be serious and trying not to laugh, to wanting to find him endearing and trying not to snap at him.

She smiles very very politely and glances back at the keys.

Ooh, the polite-look away-brush off. That's something Mike hasn't seen since he moved out of the sewers and away from Don's workshop.

His smile falls, as he turns back towards the keys.
Mike toes the line of the lesson, any and all flair he may have injected into his playing has disappeared.

That's not what she wanted. Not at all. She wnated him to enjoy it, she just...

She takes him through the rest of the song wordlessly.

"That was very good."

It's not that Mike doesn't want to learn, or is ungrateful to those willing to teach him, it's just that it's hard for him to concentrate sometimes. Why better himself when he could better someone's day? Any distraction is an opportunity for a performance, any witness a potential audience.

"Thanks."

As the song finishes, Jocasta's fingers pick out something lighter, something more complex, and something designed to lighten the mood.

"This is one of my favourites," she says.

Mike sits back, hands off the keys, and just listens. He's able to manage a second or two of sitting still before his foot finds the underlying rhythm in the song and begins to tap accordingly.

"I can see why."

He's imagining the kind of dance that would go with something like this, or if it's the kind of tune that you just have to appreciate.

Jocasta glances at his foot, and smiles. He can indeed keep rhythm when he wants.

"have you been coming to this place long?"

Mike looks around the room, amused at the fact that people seem to him to be moving along with the music.

"Coming here? Year and a half. Living here full time? A couple of months shorter than that. You?"

"About three months?" Jocasta hazards. "I'm Bound."

That gets a cringe.

"Ooh, that's rough. I'm sorry. How's it working out for you?"

"It's..."

She hates it.

"...I'm getting used to it. Keeping myself occupied." A nod towards the piano.

"Heh, yeah I know how that goes. I do a lot of cooking, myself. Helps, you know? To have a lot of little things to think about."

"Yes," Jocasta agrees. "That's exactly it. Lots of little things to fill up the time."

"We are slayers of time. Fear us, for lo' we are mighty. The question is, when does Time come in here and kick our ass?"

Jocasta glances at him, slightly worried, and then at the door.

"Do you think she would?"

Mike joins her in looking at the door.

"No idea, but stranger things have...she?"