(no subject)

[i_am_your_host]

On a summer afternoon, Emcee can be found outside on the back porch, away from the noise and chatter of the bar, and at a safe distance from those who don't like accordion music. (Although, really, now, who doesn't like accordion music?)

Here he sits with a small red accordion on his lap, teaching himself how to play "Parlez-moi D'amour" with the help of some sheet music and charts. Mostly he figures out the notes on his own, going by ear, and humming or singing along in his sweet, smoky tenor.

The notes he plays on the instrument are sometimes...a little less sweet. And they are followed by muttered curses in German. But this is his first time. He will eventually get the hang of it.

Comments

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric comes up from the lake, his light tunic tucked up into his belt and his sandals in hands. He's been wading along the edges of the beach. He smiles at the sound of Emcee's song and comes to perch on the pouch rail. Just content to listen.

[i_am_your_host]

As Emcee diligently practices a verse, he glances up and sees Sinric's relaxed approach, and he smiles faintly. He hadn't meant to have an audience, but it subconsciously goads him into playing better. The frustrations of making mistakes slip away for now, and though it's not perfect, it is fairly decent for a beginner. At least his singing smooths it over.

"Parlez-moi d'amour, redites-moi des choses tendres," he sings with a slightly husky rasp, as if murmuring sweet nothings into a lover's ear.

"Votre beau discours,
Mon coeur n'est pas las de l'entendre.
Pourvu que toujours
Vous répétiez ces mots suprêmes:
Je vous aime."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric is not a judgemental audience, content just to be in Emcee's company. He hums softly, providing harmony without interrupting.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee brings the song to a close, drawing the final note out of the accordion with one last squeeze. He takes a breath and looks up at Sinric with a smile.

"There, that wasn't too terrible," he says, cheerfully self-effacing.

[thewidewideworld]

"That is a terribly complex instrument." He holds out a hand, asking permission to have a look at it.

[i_am_your_host]

"It is like playing a ten-pound piece of luggage that you wear on your chest," he declares, as he stands up and slips the straps off his shoulders. "Let me help you put it on?"

[thewidewideworld]

"No, no. I'm happy to admire it where it is." He climbs down from the rail to not quite straddle Emcee's lap to admire it.

[curlytop]

After one string of curses a young Scottish voice comes from over his shoulder. "That one was way better, though!"

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee had been so engrossed in making it through the verse with as few mistakes as possible that he hadn't noticed the lad in his company. But now he does.

"Oh," he says, pleasantly surprised, as he turns to take him in with a quick flick of his kohl-rimmed eyes, "thank you, darling. I appreciate the encouragement. I didn't realize I had such a--" (handsome) "--captive audience."

[curlytop]

George shrugs affably as he approaches. "I wouldn't say captive. Didn't realize there was live music here." He smiles. "And I didn't mean to startle you. Sorry."

And then he looks up, at the scenery. It's his first trip out back, and he stops a moment. "Is it...is it meant to look like Scotland out here?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Quite all right," he assures him, returning the smile. "I needed a little distraction anyway. Practice may make perfect but it also makes sore wrists," adds with a chuckle as he shakes out his hands to limber them up.

"Scotland? Why, yes, I do believe that is what the outdoors are meant to resemble. Remind you of home?"

Emcee thinks back on young King Jamie and William and hopes those Scottish lads are doing well for themselves, wherever they are.

[curlytop]

"Aye, it does," George says, and for a moment his voice is quiet. He's a long way from home. Further even than when he was in Idris.

He shakes his head, because who wants to think about sad things? Not George, that's who.

"Anyway, I'm glad to offer a distraction. I'm George."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee recognizes the air of wistfulness. He knows what it's like to be far from home.

"Delighted to meet you, George," he says warmly, offering a hand to shake. "Please do call me Emcee. Are you new to Milliways?"

[childofrebellion]

Cassian's been out on the kind of mission he never likes but they're useful. Stopping someone before they had a chance to betray the Rebellion.

When he gets a door to Milliways, he allows himself to relax slightly and heads outside, rolling his shoulders and stops when he hears what he thinks is music. When he realizes its Emcee, he smiles and sits next to him. "What are you playing?"

He's in his leather jacket with some rain in his hair.

[i_am_your_host]

"It's called an accordion," Emcee replies, smiling at him in greeting, as he demonstrates how sound is produced by pressing the keys and squeezing the box. "I've spent the better part of today teaching myself how to play it. It's a rather common instrument in my era and line of work, but I never took the time to learn it until now."

[childofrebellion]

(OOC: Sorry for the lateness, didn't look at my inbox.)

"Oh, why did you decide to learn to play it now?"

Cassian leans against one of the posts of the porch as he listens, better to focus on music than his darker thoughts.

[i_am_your_host]

"Versatility, darling," he says with an airy smile, as he practices playing an old German lullaby. "I tend to want to be able to do many things passably well than excel at any one specific thing. I am no prodigy, which is why I actually have to work at these things." He huffs and rolls his eyes, but then shrugs his shoulders.

[childofrebellion]

"That makes sense and I know how that is. There are better slicers and pilots than me, but I never know what I might face so have to be prepared. You sound good." He says with a smile. "Please keep playing."

[i_am_your_host]

"Yes, exactly. As an entertainer, I am faced with all kinds of audiences. I always hope that within my repertoire, there is something to please at least one person."

His cheeks dimple at the encouragement, and he dips his head slightly. "Beginner's luck," he chuckles, continuing to play the lilting children's tune.

[holdingacat]

Cecil likes accordion music, and considered it a nice accompaniment as he came back from the lake.

German curses and all.

"That last rendition sounded better - or at least, I think it was better, it sounded more on theme, with less creative insults, but I'm afraid I've never heard the song before." He offers once he's close enough, encouragingly. "Unless it is supposed to have creative insults."

Accordion music accompanied by someone cursing in German sounds like something that would be sponsored by Dark Owl Records, so...

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee looks up at the sound of the voice. His eyelashes flicker as he takes in the man with a quick glance up and down, and whatever he sees, he's appreciative of it.

Slowly and minutely, his painted lips twist into a smirk as the critique goes on. He appreciates that as well.

"A French love song does not usually contain German insults," he says, amused, "thus I assure you, the unintended addendums were entirely mine. However, your feedback does give me the idea to write a song with the verses in English, the chorus in French, and the obscenities in German. So, thank you." His cheeks dimple deeply.

[holdingacat]

"Certainly, happy to be of service." Cecil grins, accepting the thanks and the visual assessment easily. "I'm sure it will be a great hit. Do you often practice here? It was a nice surprise."

[i_am_your_host]

"I do indeed; it's how I pass the time and make the most of it. Sometimes I perform a song or two on the piano or the karaoke machine when the mood strikes."

Emcee tilts his head at him like an inquisitive cat. "Are you new here?"

[holdingacat]

"Well, I've only been here a few times, though I must say this place has proven quite useful so far." Cecil admits, and his grin turns a bit rueful. "And now I'm guessing that you are an old hand here, ready to laugh at my naivete and innocent conceits."

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, I doubt there is anything innocent about you, darling," he replies with wry slyness, as he carefully sets the accordion aside and straightens out his notes on the small table beside him. "There hardly ever is about anyone. And it's true, I have been in and out of Milliways for several years now. It's practically another home to me."

Offering a hand to shake, he then says, "Please, do call me Emcee. Would you like to join me for a drink?"