milliways_bar | (no subject)

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He's left Triumph sleeping upstairs, and is downstairs.

At the piano.

With a half eaten sandwich on top.

Bar has taken to refusing his Vicodin until he eats, instead of giving it to him *with* dinner.

He's not happy about that.

He has to finish the sandwich befor ehe can get the pill. He's really not happy about that.

Have at.

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He smiles very slightly.

"She'll probably bring me back. I haven't paid the tab."

House nods. "Good point." And makes a mental note to himself not to pay it off in full.

Behrooz nods slightly. His eyes drift back to the keys.

Deciding he doesn't really want the conversation to be about him anymore, he carefully says, "Are you... okay?"

"I'm doing well," House answers with a little smile. "A little sad now, but...I'm glad you told me you're leaving. I'd worry if you just...weren't around."

Behrooz nods faintly. Then pauses again.

"I can't just stay here," he says quietly.

"I know. I want you to be happy, Behrooz." Although, he's not sure how happy he'll be on the other side. By all accounts, his life isn't a happy one.

Behrooz isn't sure what to say to that. He doesn't know what it will be like on the outside.

Finally, he quietly says, "Thank you."

House smiles again. "You're welcome. But it's true. You're a good kid, behrooz. You deserve some happiness."

Behrooz looks down at the keys.

He plays the first melody again.

Whether he agrees with House's statement or not is unclear.

"Been working on anything new since last time we played together?" House asks him, sensing his discomfort, and offering a way out of the current conversation.

Behrooz shrugs slightly.

He pulls up the textbook (that we'll say has been there that entire time) and flips through the pages to where ther's sheet music has been stuffed into it. Turkish notes are scribbled over the music. The music is more advanced than he probably should be playing.

"You can play this?" House blinks, eyes scanning the paper. "THis is...really advanced stuff."

He hesitates again.

"It's just... what the bar gives me," he says quietly.

"Of course. She knows what you're capable of."

Behrooz doesn't speak. He looks back at the music, picks up the one on top, and starts to play through it. There are a few flaws, but he manages to stop himself before playing the wrong note.

House settles back and listens, just listens and watches Behrooz's hands move over the keys. It's really a shame he likely won't have access to a piano outside fo the bar.

After he finishes the song, he takes a pencil and writes notes near the places where he'd made mistakes, almost seeming to forget anyone's around him.

House watches this too.

He wishes there was some way he could make sure Behrooz had access to a keyboard.

His leg is starting to ache, his eyes glance up to the sandwich he hasn't finished. He picks it up and takes a bite. It's the only way to get his Vicodin.

Behrooz looks briefly at him, then away again.

He plays the marked lines again, this time without making those mistakes. After this, he removes his hands from the keys.

After a long moment, Behrooz says, "I ... had a friend who played music like this." Pause. "Except... the flute." He's not sure this is a great time to bring this up, but the guilt is quietly gnawing away at him.

House nods gently. Difficult as Behrooz is to read, there's a catch in his voice that's pretty clear, and House is quiet, waiting to see if Behrooz will say more or change the subject again.

After another pause, he says, "... it was a long time ago," and looks back down at the keys.

"But he made an impression on you." For good or bad remained to be seen.

"It was a she," he corrects quietly.

House nods.

"Was she someone you cared about?"

Behrooz doesn't look up. He just says, "Yeah."