Consequence of sounds

[danceswithgoths]

Spring came slowly, by creeping inches eroding snow sculptures and restless dreams brought on by the cold. As it was, there happens to be a half melted sculpture of Wittgenstein out on the lawn in front of Miki's place. For all the wear, the straw hat set on its head still looks passing jaunty

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[bloodtie]

It is a fine night -- not too cold, and no adverse weather besides infrequent blasts of wind. It's also a night that has convinced a certain man of one inalienable truth: whomever invented blue jeans? Was a sadist.

Basch has managed to hunt down some "normal" clothes -- a pair of jeans, a baggy, dark green knit sweater, a pair of workboots and yet another leather jacket to add to the menagerie, though his is longer, tailored. It's hard to move confidently in such alien design, texture, and lack of color, but he can't do anything but try. The sales girl had said he looked fine -- and he does, but it's not the kind of "fashion" he used to. So drab, and not roomy at all.

He continues down the walkway and up the stairs, with his hands in his pockets. He gives the two women a small, perfunctory smile and a bit of a nod; however, there's something about the conversation (and their body language, now that he's "interrupted" it) that feels odd. It's a little awkward.

[danceswithgoths]

Tilly slouches up from her place against the porch railing. It's awkward in the way that she's very much a protector archetype, and is well aware of the current set of happenstances that a certain tenant has been involved in over the past couple weeks. And while it was mentioned that there would be more in the way of company this evening, callers bear at least a bit of scrutiny.

Though there's certainly no need to be stand-offish about it. Moving her cigarette over, she offers Basch a slow and easy smile. "Here for Miki?"

[bloodtie]

Basch glances over, and stops. The smile is returned; he nods, once.

"I am." The music and light in her window are obvious clues Miki's here, so there's no need to ask.

He extends a hand. He has a good idea of what's going on here, and while he's too old to really worry about "impressing the parents", there definitely was no need to be difficult.

"I don't believe we've met."

[danceswithgoths]

"I don't think we have either." Making certain that the cigarette was out of harms way (for they are tricksy buggers, betimes) Tilly reaches over, offering up a quick handshake.

"I'm Telpischore," there's a beat of pause before she grins ruefully, "Tilly weathers. Pleasure."

From over a puff a smoke, the younger girl grins and waves, "I get to be Ren." And lo', are introductions made.

[danceswithgoths]

Isn't it just? The effect is amplified by the many straps that are going on.

"Very good.To both bits, I should think." With the door closed, the kittens are released. It's like releasing the hounds, but far more adorable, and with more sniffing and pouncing, and less with the biting and throating. "The grey one with the white socks is Aristotle, and the orangey one is Tater-Tot." Introductions being important business.

Miki wanders out, halfway through the process of putting up a mass of blue and orange braids up in a bun. One of many ways to keep hair out of bows, yup yup. "Who are you talking to- Oh! Oi luv." There will be hugging dammit, as soon as she can wrangle the hair-tie around the mass.

[bloodtie]

It occurs to him to ask what the significance of the names are, but he is still teachable in his old age; non-sequiturs are, in the twenty-something artsy set, apparently meant to be just that.

So instead, Basch crouches to offer a hand for sniffing or nibbling once Aristotle decides the toe of his right boot needs to be pounced upon and rightly bicycle-kicked.

Upon Miki's greeting/entrance, it appears he at least intends to say hi, but the blue is -- not where he expected it to be. That is to say, it's on Miki's head.

"Evening," he says, after a beat, and stands up. He steps over said kittens to go investigate, and perhaps to buffer the space between the dyed and the dyer. "Felt like a change, did we...?"

[danceswithgoths]

Aristotle seems to be of the opinion that Basch's hand is in need of some serious cleaning! And as such, remains latched to it and licking as he stand up, and looking quite affronted once he drops back to the ground. Tater-Tot seizes this golden opportunity to pounce her sibling, and does so with great vigor.

Nikki takes this chance to hightail it to the bathroom. He's well aware that he has some form of come-uppance headed his way.

"Not so much felt like as being subjected to experimentation." She mock glares at Nikki as he passes by, the expression breaking as they both stick their tongues out at each other. That business settled, she grins and shrugs, hair finally conquered. "At least it's not green."

[bloodtie]

"I think you'd have a time finding a color that didn't suit you." He doesn't bother hiding the note of amusement in his voice. Bright orange and blue may not be the most complementary of colors, but strangely enough, she manages to pull it off in her own... naturally-occurring-rainbow-stripey-way.

There is a better look at said hair going on right now. A small part of him -- the part that may be still boyishly enamored with women at the reddish end of the spectrum -- in confused as to the choice between mourning a little or joining the ranks in simply enjoying the spectacle. He finally settles on "both".

"...though green may be taking it a bit far." Theoretically speaking (to you, Nikki), of course.

[danceswithgoths]

And damn do they do a good job of it, the two together being just about as rambunctious as the kittens. Through all this, a glass of water is acquired and the CD is acquired and is promptly tossed into the player. Indeed kids, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.

Back in his seat, Nikki sips at a rum and coke, watching the familiar whirl of last minute prep that is Miki preparing herself for a gig. "Don't forget the," he trails off, gesturing with the glass in the direction of the scarf and then the collection of spare strings she has hanging out.

The mention doesn't even make her pause in her movement, "Thanks. Always forget that." And over the couch she goes, digging for the elusive E string.

"I know."

Ah, the thrill of ritual.

Watching Miki tie the scarf about her her, applying the spare strings as she went, Nikki looks up and shoots a glance Basch's way. "Catch much in the way of pub gigs, back home?"

[bloodtie]

...kind of an electrified, better-enunciated version of some folk songs he's heard. Doesn't necessarily mean he prefers it, but it's not nearly as strange to his ear as he predicted

[danceswithgoths]

The whole rushing about is really with more purpose than most womanly types manage, and there is certainly less in the way of fussing with clothes and inquiring about bum size. This, is well and truly a nice switch up from the norm. Nikki is of a mind that the ritual needs more make-up, but no-one really listens to him anyway. It is simply the way of things.

Kitten the second has wended its way over to the food bowl. It is time for the serious business of digging around for the tastiest of crunchies.

The notion is terribly strange, and leaves the two of them gawping for a moment or three. This is broken by a shared glance, Miki returning to shoving cables in her coat pocket, while Nikki goes back to the conversation. "All jam sessions and no set, groups. That is perishingly different."

Though damn does it ever sound interesting and tempting.

[bloodtie]

At the sound of wending, the other kitten perks to attention from sleepiness. She is apparently decided that vaulting from Basch's lap onto Aristotle's unfortunate head from above is a perfectly strategic course of action.

"Groups are... usually large, hired for celebrations. Or one or two travelling musicians, together." The latter who mostly rob people blind, but that's neither here nor there.

"Most of our music is passed down, not published." He takes a drink. "Your average farmer or cook knows about as many songs as performers. Maybe more."

[danceswithgoths]

It certainly is! After all, what's a little convivial violence violence between childhood friends?

Nodding morosely, Nikki is making much of his act as the put upon and abused party. "She's horridly violent you know." No, that's not a slowly creeping grin you see here sit, move along. Nor is there brow waggling involved shortly there-after. "Though I'm sure that's something you're more than familiar with by this point."

[bloodtie]

Basch pauses for contemplation. It's a valid point.

After a moment of frank consideration, he nods -- then reaches out and shoves Nikki into another batch of upcoming trash cans.

[danceswithgoths]

Nikki really wishes he could say that he didn't know this was coming, but the veneer of 'flakey musician' only goes so far. As such, he has time to react well, when out of the tipped over trash-can pops a very pissed seeming raccoon. This, is some unfortunate business.

Miki, watching this from several paces ahead, is stopped in her tracks as Nikki pelts down the way. After all, things like that weren't supposed to actually happen, right? The raccoon seems to realise this is the case moments into the chase, as it pauses to hiss and then waddle back in search of a better can.

There's a few moments of puzzled staring, before a shrug is tossed off. Miki's expression shifting from 'bzuh?' to a very solid 'well then'. With that, it's time to see if Nikki's managed to avoid running in to traffic in his mad dash.

[bloodtie]

Seeing a grown man (who is a lot fairer of heft than you'd think to look at him) run for his life from a knee-height dog... thing... is something of a 'bzuh' type of image, yep.

Basch has a similar look of "what just happened?", and follows at Miki's heel to investigate this calamity further.

[danceswithgoths]

Somewhere in all of this, Nikki’s managed to acquire a rum and Coke, which provides for having a glass to tap his fingers against as he thinks over a decent response. This is the sort of conversation that can drag others in and get rather heated right quick. Miki’d never forgive him if a fight started before the gig had even started.

“The modern shite’s not really any less artful than the concertos, reels or what not you get out of the older sets, as far as level of skill in construction goes. Bad music has always been about.” He takes a careful sip, eyeing the guitarist, it seems the man tunes his guitar down a half step. Well then. “It just tends to come to the fore in modern music due to the different instruments. You become inured to classical sucking, as it were.”

Well, there went that hope for neutrality, damn.

[bloodtie]

Basch listens, thanks the barkeep for the glass with which to enjoy his booze, and cocks his head a little. He's completely quiet for about five solid beats after Nikki stops talking.

"Aye. So it would."

He's thinking very hard. It seems musical theory is not his forte, nor does he really understand what's being discussed, anymore.

"If your foundation is flawed, so will be your house, that kind of thing?"

[danceswithgoths]

Hardly noticing the extended pause, Nikki looks over from his examination of the accordianist's playing style. The girl has some fine finger work, that she does. He glances over and nods, "Pretty much." There's somewhat more that could be tacked on, but the gist of it all is there, and that's what matters.

Besides, the first set seems to be starting up, and from the looks of things the crowd is in actuality primed for participation. Who would have thought you could get professorial types out on the dance floor amidst a strange combination of skanking and step-dancing? Fabulous stuff comes out of that, or so it seems.

It quickly becomes apparent as to why Miki went to all the effort of putting her hair up, she’s a most energetic player, grinning wildly as they crash into the first chorus. It’s all about solidarity, kids.

[bloodtie]

It's a bit noisy, sure, but you didn't come to a live gig expecting anything but. The bartender offers Basch a larger glass, but he waves him away -- much attention is being paid to the stage right now.

That is, until a man who looks to be MAYBE twenty one or two nearly crashes right into Nikki from behind; there's nobody pushing him, but Nikki is apparently in his personal space enough to necessitate a little bit of an elbow as he goes to get a drink.