milliways_bar | Evil Karaoke post

The machine waits, it sits in the corner near the piano and the jukebox blending in and watching for its moment.

Cassian walks in from a busy street and slips his way through the crowd of Milliways towards the counter, but there's a turn he didn't expect. Then suddenly he's holding a device and singing. When he tries to stop singing he can't so he sings along with anger in his voice, he hates being the center of attention.

Well, no cannonballs did fly, no rifles cut us down
No bombs fell from the sky, no blood soaked the ground
No powder flash blinded the eye, no deathly thunder sounded
But just as sure as the hand of God, they brought death to my hometown
They brought death to my hometown, boys

No shells ripped the evening sky, no cities burning down
No army stormed the shores for which we'd die, no dictators were crowned
I awoke from a quiet night, I never heard a sound
The marauders raided in the dark and brought death to my hometown, boys
Death to my hometown.

They destroyed our families, factories, and they took our homes
They left our bodies on the plains, the vultures picked our bones

So listen up, my sonny boy, be ready for when they come
For they'll be returning sure as the rising sun
Now get yourself a song to sing and sing it 'til you're done
Yeah, sing it hard and sing it well
Send the robber barons straight to hell
The greedy thieves who came around
And ate the flesh of everything they found
Whose crimes have gone unpunished now
Who walk the streets as free men now

Ah, they brought death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown, boys
Death to our hometown, whoa!

When the song ends with a dramatic flourish, he stumbles to a table as the karaoke machine moves to its next victim

OOC: The Karaoke machine is awake. I'm going to set up threads for others to sing and to watch in horror. Open to any reactions or to make your characters sing whether they want to or not. Tag in wherever works. And open for ages. Link in post leads to a video of Bruce Springsteen singing.
Tiny tag: Cassian Andor

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Emcee lounges bonelessly in the chair, drawing one foot up on the edge of the seat.

Oh, thank you, darling, a gin on the rocks, please," he says.

"You...woke it up?"

"According to someone else, that's how they put it," A rat comes by and hears the order, Cassian pats Emcee's arm, "You were great up there. I ended up singing with anger."

"You weren't so bad yourself," he says with a twitch of his lips. "And it was an angry song. Besides, you didn't seem to want to be up there anyway."

The rat comes back with Emcee's drink and he quickly takes a much-needed sip of it.

"I liked the song but wasn't planning on it. I was just walking by. Thank you," He smiles and takes a sip of his whiskey. A compliment from Emcee on his performance is wonderful and makes the whole thing not as bad.

Edited 2018-02-19 06:22 (UTC)

"I suppose I have an unfair advantage being an actual performer, so I don't mind spontaneous singing one bit, but I can understand how it might be a jarring experience to suddenly have all these lyrics in your head and a need to sing them," he reasons as he sips his gin. A beat passes, and his expression flattens.

"It's better than having an entire different personality thrust upon you along with the flu."

"What do you remember from that? You thought you were named Boris,"

Cassian's grateful that the flu seemed to have missed him, losing himself would be horrible. It was strange enough suddenly having people he knew not know him.

Edited 2018-02-19 06:34 (UTC)

"Ugh," he grunts with a roll of his eyes. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a bigger sip of gin.

"I seem to have acquired some random Russian vocabulary, but not much else. He did things with computers, I think? And he seemed to be a bit of a brat. I'm terribly sorry if I was bratty toward you, darling."

"Yes, he was very proud of his hacking skills. Not that much of a brat. I was worried with how sick you were, you were barely staying upright. You did look nice with glasses but not like you,"

If Emcee ever needs a good disguise, that could work.

Emcee blinks at him, his lips curling at the corners.

"Oh, well, that is very sweet of you, darling," he says, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"I'll remember that when my eyesight begins to go."

Cassian smiles and takes a drink, "Yes though the loud shirt didn't work as well."

He snorts a chuckle.

"Loud shirt? What did it look like?"

"Lots of bright patterns and colors, but not your style."

"No, that doesn't seem my style at all," he chuckles. "The previous time this happened, I ended up in a tailored suit and necktie. Not my style either."

Cassian looks Emcee over and tries to picture him in a suit, then shakes his head as that image is too intriguing, "No, not unless it was your kind of suit, that moved with you. One styled like Senator Organa would suit you but in brighter colors than he wears."

Edited 2018-02-20 00:20 (UTC)

"Like a senator? I don't know about that, it sounds very formal," he laughs. "The person who I thought I was, was some kind of political aide, funnily enough."

"An elegant senator but no, not what suits you or me. I always feel like my collar's too tight in a suit, they can be a little too close to an Imp's uniform."

"I chafe at the idea of wearing any sort of uniform," he says, sipping his drink and eyeing him over the rim of his glass. "Basically, the less I'm wearing, the better."

"I don't like wearing them but sometimes I have to," Cassian meets that look with a smile as he takes a drink, "I'm always cold and layers help."

"You weren't very cold the last time I got all those layers off of you," he murmurs, shifting in his seat to lean in closer to him.

He smiles as he moves closer to Emcee, "No, you're good at warming me up."

He reaches under the table to run a hand up Cassian's thigh.

"Are you getting warmed up now?" he asks with a coy little tip of his head.

Cassian closes his eyes at the touch and nods, "Kriff, yes."

He slides his fingers deeper into the creases of his trousers and leans in closer to murmur into his ear, "And what shall we do about that?"

He shivers at Emcee's breath and touch and answers in Festian, "Whatever you want."

Emcee breathes out a soft hum, smiling faintly.

"Do you want to come up to my room?"

Re: Singing

childofrebellion - 2018-02-21 23:38 (UTC) - Expand

i_am_your_host - 2018-02-22 01:20 (UTC) - Expand