Natalie's Duplex, The Hegemony Compound, Brazil, Tuesday Morning

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie had returned from another stay in Toronto yesterday, via a short layover - the length of a cup of coffee - in Fandom. Things in Toronto were... well. They were okay. Good, even. The school part was going great, as might have been predicted, and the social was interesting, for lack of a better word. She was integrating into some circles, as

Comments

[lockestheway]

Peter had been up since well before dawn-- it was the only way to catch the Europeans at the start of their workday, and the issues that were on the table right now were vital.

But a few hours into the morning - early for Nat, not always for him -, he could justify heading back to his duplex for half an hour to make some coffee and at least consider the thought of sitting down.

He was almost there, too, when he heard music.

He paused in the hallway.

[whenshewasnice]

It was a good time to pause right there. She was just getting into the song. There'd been a lot of Elliott Smith playing back in Toronto, not that it made a difference to this particular listener. Not that she knew there was one, either.

There was a false start, a fumbled chord. The guitar, although she'd been practicing off and on for two years now, continued to not be her main instrument. But she was okay. Good enough to get back on track after her fumble, good enough to sing to her own accompaniment. "Drink up baby, stay up all night, with the things you could do, you won't but you might. The potential you'll be, that you'll never see, the promises you'll only make."

She had a clear voice, idly melancholy, soft. Emotion came easily with music but there was always a filter of Natalie on top of it.

"Drink up with me now, and forget all about the pressure of days, do what I say, and I'll make you okay, I'll drive them away, the images stuck in your head."

[lockestheway]

The listener in question was not the best judge of decent music, but Nat's voice was pretty-- Peter had to give her that. The hint of emotion to it was slightly weird, a thought he batted away immediately because it was pointless in its own right.

He should probably leave her alone, right? Because either she was alone, or she was playing for company who could probably appreciate the music more than he could.

He looked back into the hall, sighed. This was stupid, but now his curiosity was nagging at him.

He walked to her door.

[whenshewasnice]

Oh, she had a very captive audience! If 'captive' stretched to accommodate 'roling on the floor, batting a fleck of dust floating in the air' because that was what Mr. Moxy was currently doing. He was used to the music, and had long since given up on trying to play with the strings while she was playing.

"The people you've been before, that you don't want around anymore; they push, and shove, and won't bend to your will. I'll keep them still."

It was hard to tell what she was thinking but that still sounded sincere, a promise. She'd been working so hard lately, actual work, school work, and the work of just being social, and this was like a whole different part of her brain.

"Drink up baby, look at the stars, I'll kiss you again between the bars, where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught."