|
     |
He has no business being here. He is not a mutant: he is as far from a mutant as a being could be, in some ways of speaking. But, Eshu is curious. These awakened are a phenomenon he would understand. Of course, the bouncer is a problem, but there is a brief argument and a brief bit of blindness after a wave of his hand, and the bouncer stumbles and falls and is no bother for the god of the crossroads. He is tall, well built man who looks to be in his early twenties, with skin like milk chocolate and eyes that are both dark and alight with interest. He's presently dressed in a rather simple outfit: jeans and a fitted olive v-neck t-shirt, but it is the staff that probably draws attention. As tall as he is, it is a thing of masterful craftsmanship: wood with etched metal in points. It looks to be a snake, its 'scales' not flat but curling up to create a rough texture, with the very edges of the green hinting at yellow. As he enters, he pauses to lean by the wall near the door, hands holding the staff idly, fingers tapping out a soundless tune. Watching. Curious. Interested.
*
Evening is coming on fairly strong and right now Nyx approaches Eight Ball, arm in arm with Sophie. Cassandra walks along side them and the smaller of the two blondes leans in to whisper to the bouncer, nodding at the girl walking beside them to all the three of them past the door. Together. It's definitely a group affair, the generally insular and severe Lizzy Mayhugh surrounded by friends. Nyx must be getting soft.
The bar itself is fairly crowded, alive with the raucous laughter of mutants drinking off the day. One is green and kind of scaly with a long tongue. Another guy just changes colours hypnotically. A third does none of the above but his hair is green. And then it's blue. Someone else is clinging to the ceiling. Everyone seems to be having a good time, even the more normal looking ones.
The amethyst-eyed albino girl, Nyx, is comparatively normal when paired against some of the people here. She squints as she surveys the crowd and eventually settles her gaze onto Eshu with his snake staff. She squeezes Sophie's hand a bit more tightly. "Hey, Eshu!" The woman calls, lifting her free hand to wave. "It's good to see you." Oddly enough, the often disaffected black hoodie and black jeans wearing teen clearly means it.
Lizzy's shadow shows the truth of such things. It is calm, for once.
*
Cassandra is sporting a backpack in addition to her usual affair, and is surprisingly clean for the environs she's wont to frequent. The callous knuckled girl peers about at the motley array of unique individuals placidly as Nyx gives her shoutouts.
Given so many new faces, Cassandra isn't yet inclined to move away from the two familiar faces she's in the company of. The dark haired half asian instead sizes things up for the time being, one hand loose at her side and the other clutching to a strap of her new Oakley brand backpack. Either someone's been dumpster diving or she has a benefactor? Likely the former.
*
Sophie, as she walks alongside Nyx, is looking actually less calm than Nyx for a change, but not entirely in a bad way. Happy anticipation struggles with a bit of nervousness for expression through the pretty blonde's features — perhaps the guitar case carried by her free hand offers some insight into those emotions. The tallish, slender girl is dressed in a pair of new-looking, well-fitting blue jeans and a white cotton peasant blouse, with newish white Keds on her feet.
*
Oasis. Sanctuary. Smoke-filled hell hole with drinks and pool. May as well all play by the same name as far as Jay's concerned. The crowd is good tonight, and though there may be the vague underscoring of nerves in the outside world right now, depending on how reliably one reads the newspaper, inside these walls nerves are soothed. Jay lingers near the bar, but not too close to it, conversingdebatingwith another gentleman with blue skin and gills spreading up his neck, though he seems to breathe just fine out of water as well. Their conversation is drowned out by the general loud din of the people around them, but there /is/ an accoustic guitar flung across the hunchback's weird moving lump.
Jay smilesreally /smiles/at the amphibian fellow, dimples appearing and that warmth reaching tendrils of warmth up into his eyes, shining like eagerness and sunshine. A bony, webbed finger pokes Jay square in the chest and the young man laughs, clasping his own hand against the very spot he was poked before practically scrambling toward a cleared off square of 'dead space' where a microphone is set up and a man(?) who may just be 90% long dusty brown hair is speaking overbearingly into a microphone. Angry poetry? Kinda sounds like it. His voice trailing in odd loops that aren't certain if they're punctuated by elipsis or commas or…what…man.
*
ROLL: Eshu +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 24
*
The dark eyes of Eshu focus upon Nyx, and he smiles; its an easy, warm smile, but there's hints of a grin that lingers near the surface, "Child of night." he greets, lifting his staff and bending his head forward to touch his forehead against it as a kind of ritual greeting. He presses off from the wall, and approaches the bar. The metal-clad tip of the staff thumps against the ground as he walks. Thump. Thump. Thump. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rumped wad of money, idly pulling out a few bills and placing it on the bar as he nods to the bartender, "Rum, the best you have. And whatever it is my friends want." He gestures to Nyx to indicate her as the chief of friends. His eyes flicker over tot he… hairball, and the… poetry… and his staff tilts that way.
The god of chance lays a hand upon the scales of fate, and presses down. He tilts the odds from good to bad, from success to failure, from victory to defeat, from pleasure to pain. What that means? That is for Fate, a higher god then Eshu, to decide.
He looks around with open curiosity, and remarks to Nyx, "I never imagined so many ori would awaken: I knew it was happening, but this place? It is a wonder. I wonder if this phenomenon is a fortelling: a sign of things to come. As Grandfather awakens, are perhaps the heavens reopening? Is the world on the cusp of a Second Ifa?"
*
Nyx glances at Cassandra and nods, looking her over briefly. She doesn't say a further word, however, letting the other girl do her own thing. She's almost identical to Cassandra in size, making it the rare time when she can look a person directly in the eye. "These are good people," Nyx notes, tilting her head slightly. "Anyone gives you trouble find me or Sophie. Otherwise… hang out. Kay? I'll get you a drink… Somehow."
Nyx enunciates carefully, watching to see how well Cassandra understands her before taking a deep breath and nodding very slowly. She turns away from the Asian girl then to look up at the blonde standing just beside her. In this case Nyx has to look up. In her current boots, six inches of looking up. Nyx smiles faintly at this, however, taking the opportunity to look Sophie over from head to toe. Then the smaller blonde rises to the balls of her feet and uses Sophie's held hand to draw her into a brief, firm kiss.
"For nerves. And good luck. You're going to be amazing then you're going to teach me how to play." Nyx, who is normally so concerned about being 'out', seems complete relaxed about it here. She gives Sophie a light shove afterward. "Go on. I think the dude currently on the mic could use a guitarist. Or, um. Something. I have no idea what he's up to, honestly."
Having hopefully sent Sophie on her way Nyx then slips away to head toward the bar and join Eshu there. "Oh, perfect. thanks. I'll take, um. Three coca-coas for now," she states clearly to the bartender. "Maybe alcohol… Later." Then to Eshu the girl questions, "Do you think? It's just a start. People are so afraid and hateful. If this is the Heavens beginning to open I hope they open all the way soon. But yeah… There are a lot of us popping up now. It's pretty cool."
*
Lamont arrives from Mutant Town.
*
Lamont has arrived.
*
Lambert has arrived.
*
Cassandra stares for a long moment at Nyx as she makes words at her. She cants her head diagonally a touch, wrinkling her brow in subtle fashion as she regards the context of her motions and gestures to divine her meaning. When the moment passes she nods, a quick tilt of her head as her eyes wander about the place peopled with exotic looking individuals.
Adjusting her grip on her backpack, Cassandra will step from Nyx as she wishes her friend luck to find a place to light. Her dangling hand slips into the pocket of her hoodie as he sighs ever so softly, uncertainty coloring her features until she finds a vacant spot at the end of the bar with a couple seats between her and anyone else. Good, a corner. Noone can come up on her unawares from that spot.
*
There are even more emotions in Sophie's eyes and on her lips after that kiss from Nyx, but foremost among them as the shorter blonde sends her on her way is gratitude. "Merci," she answers softly, almost afraid to say more. And then she's making her way over to the area adjacent to where Poet It is at the mic, where she gets her acoustic out of its case, slings the strap over her shoulders, and proceeds to quietly tune it while she waits her turn to perform.
*
Lamont is not a mutant. Not that he knows. He can pass, though, in company with Lambert, who can definitely pass, as well. Not to mention a little subtle mental trickery - letting the bouncer and Lambert see the lines of smoke drawn by a bare fingertip before him, a vague little symbol dispersed by a breath. Helps to have a more visible party trick or two, after all. Then he's letting the satyr precede him in - he's dressed plainly, FRench blue shirt, dark pants. No coat….and no obvious armaments.
*
Lambert heads on in. Well, as for 'satyr', one has to look close, but his eyes are goat-eyes, and his gait is surprisingly agile. Perhaps 'bouncy' is appropriate, for all that he is dressed like a track and field jock. Despite the Daily Bugle's recent report, Lambert does not seem to have been beheaded. He does have one hand well bandaged, but the other is just fine. He watches that smoke, and he grins, and that? Exposes sharp teeth in an otherwise all-American-Boy mouth.
*
Poet It (who is rather aptly named), continues to drone at the mic, practically shoving the thing into what one would imagine to be his mouth until all words become loud, guttural sounds and two hair-draped hands clutch the pic stand as if he were trying to kill it. Or make out with it. Really, it all depends what you're into. Considering that the man's face is obscured by a ridiculous draps of combed but still slightly frizzy hair, it's hard to tell if he's having far too good of a time, or if he's about to break something and start shanking folks. Poet It walks forward up on the mic stand until it's between his feet, between his legs, dipping the thing and swaying dangerously.
That's about it for the amphibian man who seems to be either running the mic night, or is at least acting as some sort of host and intermediary. Webbed hands grab the mic stand and yank it away from Poet It, letting the pile of long hair and jeans collapse to the floor without its support. Some harsh words are exchanged away from the microphone for those who are near enough to it to hearlike Jay and Sophiesuggesting that he can handle hippies and he can handle drunks and he can hndle hairballs, but not all three. 'Go dry out!' are the last rasping words from the man with the gills before the mic stand is set right again and there's an electric hum and thump of it coming back on. "Thank you, thank you, let's hear it for our main man, Brother Ike, everyone!" The amphibian host practically whispers into the mic, his baritone voice almost pleasing if not for the fact that he sounds like he's perpetually just out of breath.
'Brother Ike', Poet It, whatever, gets up with some assistance and is carried off to, well, likely 'dry out'.
Jay hesitates, watching the scene unfold from a nearby vantage. He tries to ignore it, hard, by attaching himself to the nearest person, Sophie, gesturing to her guitar. "Good t'see the musicians comin' out in force t'naght." The southern lean in his accent pronounced, and though he has his own guitar hung across his back, the neckstrap across his chest, he doesn't seem too concerned about tuning it at the moment.
*
"It is possible." muses Eshu towards Nyx with an inclination of his head, "Though if it is true, it will bring a time of great change. In the days of Ifa, there was a cooperation between men and gods that most can not understand today. There are even those today who don't even believe it possible for gods to exist: how will they react to …." But then he glances to the stage, and wrinkles his nose with some disdain. Momentarily, he considers teaching the hairball a lesson, his dark eyes narrowing, but it is other words that distract him. Musician? Eshu turns, his attention drawn to Jay's words. "I am Abao. Of all the things that some call me— and they call me so many, many things— musician is one of those that I find most favorable. I am both patron and practicioner." There is a soft sigh, "It is unfortunate, though, that I know only forgotten songs."
*
If Sophie is looking Nyx is gesturing at her enthusiastically, indicating the now open Mike. She actually smiles rather brightly for a moment, those vibrantly amethyst eyes of her glinting in the light for a moment. Then she nods at Eshu a couple times as she reaches up to take the offered drinks. "How they'll react, I have no idea. Be interesting to see them all shook up, though." With her head briefly inclined to show respect Nyx then departs the bar once more and goes about the task of tracking down Cassandra in her corner. She offers the girl a now opened bottle of coca-cola. "Drink," the blonde states clearly, pantomiming the gesture before sliding the bottle to the girl beside her. She'll stay beside Cassandra for now, even if her gaze follows Sophie on her whole trek through the bar. "It'll be okay, Cassie. Promise."
*
Smiling back at Jay, Sophie replies, "Oui. Now let us hope that I do not make a fool of myself, non?" Her nerves are showing, both in her expression and her body language, and in that she is reverting to a bit more of a French accent than what usually colors her speech, not to mention the words of her native tongue she's peppering it with.
Once the Grunted Word Artist is escorted away and the MC has cleared the 'stage', such as it is, the young blonde steps up to the mic. "Good evening," she says into it, consciously forcing back her accent and using only English words, and glancing over to meet Nyx's eyes for an instant before she continues. "My name is Sophie, and I would like to begin with a song some of you may know. If you do, and wish to sing along, please do." She then checks her tuning quickly one more time, adjusts one of the strings, and begins to play, the song she's chosen not immediately apparent from the few seconds of instrumental intro. Her guitar technique is good, though nothing outstanding, 'skilled, talented amateur' being a good estimate of it. But then she begins to sing, her clear, fine soprano voice expressive and pure, and precisely on pitch…
(Song: 500 Miles. The intro she plays is similar to that of the Peter, Paul and Mary version — https://youtu.be/ADN1lLEp3H0 — though obviously just with a single guitar part, but vocally, she is closer to the Joan Baez recording — https://youtu.be/B_K6z3HiRAs)
)
*
Cassandra looks over at the approaching Nyx, having been eyeing people for eyeing her. A lone girl who looks apparently human, they wouldn't be wrong for assuming her lost or out of place! She takes the offered coke, smiling gratefully as she already knows what to do with it. The things you pick up on the street.
The coke turns back, and she winces at the first cold thing she's had in a while. Also the first thing with bite in a while. Cassandra smiles widely, setting the drink down beside her before looking up at the stage about the time the hairball is actually gone, and Sophie is up.
*
Lamont steers Lambert towards one of the smaller tables, distant from the stage. He is very clearly not slumming or here to gawk. In fact, the Shadow's presenting that flawless pokerface, polite, interested, but his gaze never lingers too long on one person. Mostly he's glancing towards thebar, as if to divine what might be on the drinklist.
*
Lambert glances at Nyx, and his expression flickers into something grim for a moment. Hmm. And then he is moving towards the table with the minor warlock, and he sits down and says to him "So what do you think the strongest alcohol they have here is?" He gestures, expansively, with that bandaged hand "Hey, live music! I'll be kind - and not sing."
*
Jay's smile back to Sophie is polite and encouraging with a shake of his head. "You'd have t'try pretty hard t'make a fool of yerself here, Ah reckon." He looks at the stage at the same time and takes a step back, gesturing with a hand politely to the mic stand. "Please. Ladies first." The red-head trying to slink back into the crowd, but intercepted by surprise as Eshu addresses him.
A quick flash of surprise, then confusion as bright eyes flick up and down the large fellow with the staff. Speechless for good long moments while Eshu talks. "Ah-Ah'm sorry? O-oh. You play a little? What do you play?" Another assessing look over the man. "Th' jug or the harmonica or somethin'?" He seems genuinely interested and the question is an innocent one, ignoring the very simplistic implications.
Jay intends to hear Eshu out as well. Then he hears the song that Sophie has picked out and though his body is turned toward the other man, his head begins to driiiiiiiift toward the stage and his ear is shiiiiiifting in that direction. Fingers tapping on his arm, an ember of brightness dawning on the typically muted young man's face. He whispers absently, "Man…Ah love that song…"
*
His rum being delivered, Eshu takes it up and has a long drink, looking satisfied, but longing as well. This is when he needs a cigar, but he has none and for the moment can think of no lessons that would result in him having a cigar. He grins at Nyx, "Shook up, indeed. Change… change is life. Change is why the world was made, why the people were raised by being given ori, so that people could surprise the gods as they changed. That said, its been a long time since there's been much surprise. Here is to interesting times." Eshu lifts his rum to Nyx in a toast.
And then Eshu's eyes look over to Jay, and he grins, "Name the instrument and I play it. Or ask for a song and I will sing, when the lady…" a nod to Sophie, "… is done. I am a creature of music: specifics like instruments don't matter." But his attention shifts to Sophie and her song, and he watches with open appreciation.
*
That makes Lamont smile. "Probably vodka, but I can ask?" he says, turning back to his tablemate. The song's pleasant….and he's slowly relaxing into the environs. Then, he wonders to Lamb, "…..just how drunk do you want to be?"
*
"I'm not going to get drunk," Lambert tells Lamont "Unless I drink a whole bottle, eh? At least, I might on vodka. But I won't on beer. Everything here is too weak for me." He grins cheerily, and then he pats the wallet in his pocket "But do not let me pay for everything for you. We are here as friends - this is a mutant bar, right?" He muses over it, his goat-eyes moving towards Eshu…and then Jay "Oh, I know him! He has wings."
*
Nyx hasn't noticed Lambert yet. She nudges Cassandra lightly with an elbow and points toward the stage, beaming another surprisingly cheerful grin at the girl beside her as if she might learn the fullness of Nyx's meanings through osmosis and body language. She might, in fact, given Cassandra's unique skillset. She watches Sophie with more than a small amont of open admiration in her gaze, something that should surprise approximately no one after the display at the door. Slender fingers arerapped lgihtly against theedge of the bar in front of her.
After a long moment the young woman comes to her feet. She reaches over and pats Cassandra briefly on the shoulder before she starts to walk throughthebar. Her destination isn't immediately clear until she frowns, wincing faintly, eyes locked on Lambert. "Hey," she calls, lifting her left hand in greeting. "We need to talk."
There's a beat as Nyx considers him for a moment, reaching back to scratch her neck. "Look, I…" She licks her lips briefly. "The girl who stole your lamb, um. She needs help. I'm sorry I took off, but…" There's a beat before Nyx adds, "I'll try to hel, um. Pay you back. For the food. And he broken furniture. And, um…" She starts talking immediately in a quiet, somewhat meandering voice, without waiting to see if he'll listen.
*
Cassandra is wide eyed at Sophie's singing, likely mindblown in a word. Then something catches her ever wary eye and her unblinking gaze looks to Lamont. Something off with him, but she lacks context to figure out what precisely. Squinting subtley as she consciously tries to determine what, she soon gives up for the sake of public manners and shifts her attention back to the stage.
The small girl may be still, but her open gaze is earnest. Cassandra's smile is wide as she gives the performance her full attention…then Nyx pokes her with an elbow. She blinks once at that, looking aside at her where she gets her meaning. Then the hand to her shoulder, and this she flinches from initially but its mostly reflex. The sort from someone who isn't used to contact, it shows by a slight flush to her cheeks.
Cassandra's gaze follows her friend through the bar to Lambert. Seeing her initial discomfort, she furrows her brows a bit. This developing scene has her attention more than the stage for the moment.
*
"Interesting," says Lamont, mildly. If he's something…..well, his mutation's one of the hidden kinds, surely? Then he grins at Lambert. "What, not going to pay for all my drinks? I'll get the first round. Name a poison." Then Nyx approaches, and Lamont leaves them to converse - not his place to pry. Well, *here* isn't his place to pry, anyyway.
*
Around the time Sophie reaches the second chorus, a few souls around the bar join in, their voices carrying the simple, plaintive melody. Hearing them, Sophie smiles, and her voice ascends into a higher harmony line, floating above the others. Her eyes close for just a moment as she continues to sing, her fingers drawing forth the accompaniment from the strings with greater confidence and emotion.
But soon, maybe too soon for how she is feeling in this moment, Sophie eases the tempo back a little, as she reaches the song's concluding lines. "…You can hear / that whistle blowin' / a hundred miles….
"
*
Lambert glances up at Nyx, and then he says to her in his warm, friendly voice "The girl? Does she? You are quite right! She does need help! When she stabbed me, she only got my hand - ah, her aim is terrible! Maybe she needs the glasses." He waggles his fingers at her, and then he says "I would have fed her for free, had she asked, and been willing to wash dishes. Her crimes are not yours - if she is sorry, she will come and tell me herself. But you, miss, must consider the quality of your friends, eh? She was thoughtless and thought crime and injury was less humiliating than asking for help. Do not make the same mistake." He then calls out to Lamont "Whiskey! Neat." And he looks back at Sophie with bright eyes. Ahhh, music.
*
Jay doesn't /look/ like he has wings at the moment, to be fair. But there is a rather suspicious looking lump on his back under his shirt. A lump that seems to be expanding and straining at the denim of his shirt while he listens to Sophie on stage. Which leaves all kinds of interesting jokes ripe for the picking. Low hanging fruit, as it were. And the long red feathers trailing down the backs of his legs aren't exactly super discrete, though there is a crowd and it is dim. He counts on general obliviousness for most people to miss that detail. Otherwise, he looks like a normal human, probably not yet twenty. The young man smiling widely with a dreamy sort of soulful appreciation while he listens to Sophie and accidentally rudely drops his conversation with Eshu until she's wrapped, finding himself quietly humming the harmonizing background to himself. Happiness shifts to wistfulness, which in turn draws upon a sweet sadness, his smile cast in a maudlin shade. Deep green eyes slightly misty when she repeats 'away from home' several times over.
"/Lord/," Jay whispers to himself when she wraps the song, and starts to clap, loudly, enthusiastically with a quick couple of blinks and re-energized curve to his smile. He whistles a whirling loop of encouragement as well and without thinking about it, takes a few possessed, quick steps toward the stage if it seems she's about to leave the stage, trying to intercept before Sophie gets too far.
*
Silence falls upon Eshu, as music fills the room; his hands hold lightly to his stave, and he leans forward against it, his dark skin rubbing back and forth against the rough edges of the staff's snake-scales as he lsitens. He searches for a flaw, and he finds none worthy of note, and so he lifts his staff in tribute, and then pushes away from the bar. As he does so, he vanishes, appearing instantly at the exit, and as the door opens, he vanishes again, and is gone beyond.
*
"Her aim isn't terrible," Nyx responds slowly, shaking her head. "It- really isn't." Then the small woman breathes a rather quiet sigh. "Whatever. I'll figure something out anyway," She finishes shortly as she turns back toward the stage. Sophie has the girl's full attention again just in time for the song to be ending and then Nyx is enthusiastically hollaring and clapping, waving from her place not too far away. She starts forward toward the stage, grinning. "That's my girl! WHOO!" Seeing Nyx this incredibly enthusiastic about anything has to be a shocker. She even jumps once or twice. You know. So Sophie can see her. She's still 4'11" or so."
*
Cassandra glances at Jay with his weird red feathers as he makes his way awkwardly to the stage, expression wary as she isn't quite certain what to make of his mannerisms. She never did figure out rightly what to make of that lump on his back, if it was a conjoined twin or a worn out security pillow. To her, he looks drunk at the moment and such people can't be counted on rightly.
Pickin up her coke bottle to take another sip, her gaze flickers between her two friends. Cassandra rises from her stool and curls her toes within her sneakers as she adopts an air of consideration, keenly aware of being out of her element and not liking it. Her expression is pensive but she doesn't act on anything past simply being ready to do something. It shows in the tension of her shoulders and the set of her jaw.
Then Nyx breaks the frost when she runs over to Sophie. Everything is back to how it should be, and she lights back in her stool. Sip.
*
Eshu has left.
*
HE caught some of that, did Lamont, as he comes back with a pair of whiskeys. There's a prompting eyebrow at Lambert. "I didn't realize you'd know people here," he notes, voice mild as milk.
*
Lambert raises his eyebrow at the 'whatever', and he glances at his bandaged hand, and then he says to Lamont, as the man returns "I do not. She is a friend of the one who attacked me. I have few friends yet, Mr. Lamont, but maybe it will change…" He hesitates "I was warned not to open a restaurant near…" a gesture to the room, as a whole "I thought I would prove them wrong. But maybe I don't know what works in New York. The newspaper reported everything badly. I wasn't going to die - I just needed a few stitches. And not all the food was stolen - but I had to close the restaurant and no one got paid that night. I never would have thought that a thing like me would be complaining about lack of subtlety in a city!" Lambert wrinkles his nose "But…the music that woman sings is lovely. And I'll heal with only a tiny scar. How are you, anyway?"
*
"Thank you," Sophie says into the mic, in answer to the applause she's getting, her smile one of heartfelt joy. She'd been — obviously, from beforehand — nervous about performing tonight, and she's thrilled to know now that she needn't have worried so much. Her smile only brightens when she finds Nyx in the crowd, and then she becomes aware of Jay starting toward her. Turning, she waves him over to her, and, placing one hand over the mic for privacy, she has a brief exchange with him that leaves them both smiling and nodding.
Pulling her hand back, she speaks into the mic again, saying, "Thank you. Now my new friend, here — we just met — is going to join me for another song." The two take a moment to tune their guitars together, and then Sophie begins to play, establishing a tempo with the first few bars of the intro, as Jay joins her in it. Again, the choice of song isn't immediately recognizeable just from the instrumental, but that lasts only until the duo begin to sing: "How many roads…"
(Song: Blowing in the Wind, as per the Peter, Paul and Mary recording, but in a slightly higher key more suited to Sophie's soprano range. https://youtu.be/Ld6fAO4idaI )
*
Jay catches up to Sophie before she has a chance to get too far from the mic, his guitar slung back around to his chest with the fluid and thoughtless motion of someone manipulating an extension of themselves, like an extra limb. As he moves through the crowd, the lump on his back compresses back down, like a bladder full of air or something, until it's barely a hump at all. The conversation is quick and there is an easy enthusiasm about the young man as they talk and he nods, pivoting around smoothly to stand next to the young woman.
Jay waits for Sophie to count them off and he follows as smoothly as if they'd planned it all along. Peter, Paul and Mary had two guitars, and now so do they as Jay mellows off the soft harmony to Sophie's lead. The two sing along the song for a while and as it builds, something happens and for some reason instead of two, it sounds like three people at the mic as the second male voice they would clearly be missing suddenly appears to accompany.
"How many times must the cannonballs fly…" the little duet surges into a trio somehow and Jay has to smile a little bit to himself. Heh. Cannonball. Funny… Jay carries on as if nothing odd happened, swaying slightly, eyes closed and strumming along.
*
The music is lovely….and enough to distract Lamont for a moment. EVentually, he says, looking back to Lambert, "I'm well. Busy, but….well. I've been working on some projects, paying back a long-owed favor….you? Not hurt so badly, eh?" Lambert's injury doesn't seem to perturb him terribly….but he pats the injured hand, gently.
*
Lambert is saying to Lamont "Oh, no, not bad. I mean, eh, I don't heal any faster than normal, but…it's a coupla stitches. That's all. What kind of things _do_ you consider to be a project?" He eyes the patting, amused, and he swallows down his whiskey, then gives a lowwww whistle as he can hear three voices "Aww, man, how are they _doin'_ that? Unless…that dude is really like a bird."
*
Though Nyx is more or less enraptured by the music the girl backs up toward Cassandra slowly while she watches. She's unwilling to look away but that doesn't mean that she has abandoned her corner lurkingfriend. When she is close Nyx quietly slips onto the stool closes to Cass and leans in close. She still doesn't turn, retrieving her coke and sipping on it. She points at Sophie, then at Cassandra, then herself. Once, then twice. The Nyx speaks. "Sophie. Cassie. Nyx. Family." She presses both hands to her heart for a second and then, still not looking away, reaches for Cassandra's hand. She just leaves hers next to it on the bar and waits to see what happens.
*
Cassandra blinks at Nyx initially, watching her go through the motions that conveg neaning. A finger touches her chin as she thinks on it for a moment. Words. She'll look down, then up over at the stage. Sbe watcbes for a time, brow knitted as she chews on the concept presented. Looking back to Nyx, her gaze drifts to her hand. Nervously, she shifts to move her hand atop the others, lips quirking with awkward uncertainty.
*
Sophie glances aside at Jay with surprised delight as he somehow starts covering /both/ Peter and Paul. Now /that/ is a mutant power she can seriously appreciate. The duo-turned-two-person-trio's voices and playing blend as if they're practiced at performing together, even though they've just met, and Sophie thrills to it, while knowing well that it's much more Jay's doing than her own. She's not sure if that's also part of his powerset, or if he's just that good the old-fashioned way. But from the audience's perspective, it's not clear who's making it happen, just that it /is/ happening — and it's kind of magical.
*
"Helping a friend from the war renovate a house he just bought," Lamont'svoice is casual. Nevermind that he's talking about Steve Rogers. "Needs a lot of work."
*
Lambert just starts clapping - or well. He claps once, _fails_, and then resorts to his two good fingers in his mouth for a bright and sparky wolf-whistle. He says to Lamont "Aren't they great!". And his ears twitch a little, and he pulls his curls back down over them to hide them. Best not let _those_ show - ever. Then he leans in and he says to Lamont "Wow. That's hard. The war was bad. You guys want any help - or if he needs help gettin' back on his feet? Send him my way. I mean, I can't pay well, but I can feed well, and there's always work to do in a kitchen."
*
Nyx takes a deep breath after a moment, squeezing Cassandra's hand gently. She comes to her feet afterward, leaving the other girl to her own devices. Nyx actually worries her bottom lip for a second, considering the situation. Then she nods and begisn to walk. it doesn't take the girl more than a moment to reach the stage. Nyx sits on the edge of it, one knee bent so that she can twist to face them both, her other leg dangling. Then every patch of darkness on the stage begins to move.
It all coalesces slowly, moving to array itself before the performances, a patch of deep shadow beneath the glaring performance lights. Then they begin to split and lengthen, forming into people, and landscapes. The shadows are acting out the words of the song, or some version of it, dark sapes pantomiming the lives and thoughts of the people within it, moving in a cadence to match that of the song as they go back and forth. And they change. Again, then again, as the music shifts.
The specifics don't quite matter. They are trying to capture a mood.
*
Jay is sucked into the song, though he does glance up briefly when Sophie looks over to him from the short distance on the other side of the mic. His mouth curves a little bit along one side and the very pale young man's face flushes pink for a moment before he glances back down and commits himself once again to the tune. However, he looks down and right there is a recently familiar blond head. The petite woman perched on the edge of the stage, Jay's brows lift in surprise, but he doesn't skip a beat as they carry on. It's fairly humorous, how he tilts his head minutely from side to side to watch the shadows move and churn—a drastic difference from the way he saw them moving previously.
As the song comes to an end, Jay fades back gracefully, his fingers plucking away deftly at his strings while he lets Sophie bring them on home with the last few lines. Smiling softly, but /happily/ as the final chord hangs in the air, he glances over to try to exchange a joyful little look with the blond young lady beside him, then extends a hand out to Sophie. "Nahce t'meet you." His very, very southern leaning voice /barely/ picks up on the mic, nothing like the accompaniment he provided a moment ago.
*
One Shadow captivated by other shadows. It's clearly an effect of someone's abilities, not something managed technically. But somehow, it's enough to make Lamont uneasy. He takes care of their tab and a generous, very generous tip, at the table…..and then he's slinking out without another word, or waiting for his companion. Surely that's not the sweat of unease on his brow?
*
Lamont has left.
*
Lambert is staring at the shadows now, as they shift and play. As it is a mutant bar, he shifts, and finally he has seen enough that he dares to shift in his seat. More whiskey, and Lambert reaches back to his jeans and levers out a substantial deer-like tail. There is the faint sound of pops from stiffness, and Lambert sighs contentedly. Then he calls out "More!" hopefully to Jay and Sophia. Alas, it seems as if the music is ending. Lambert sighs "Well, now, if there were _dancing_…"
*
Jay introduces himself to Sophie and have a polite little chat for a couple seconds before Jay seems to notice Nyx hanging around and waiting for something. Presumably, Sophie. With a polite dip of his head, the young man excuses himself to let the ladies get back to their girl's night out and glances up when he hears someone hollering for more. A duck of Jay's head through the dimly lit crowd and he spots what he /thinks/ is a familiar face. A quick flash of his eyes going wider and Jay picks up his steps, making his way pretty swiftly in the direction of Lambert's table. "Bert, that you?"
Jay and Sophie make their exit and their 'host' for the night comes back to the stage. "Tough act to follow, but this next one's a gift to all the ladies in here tonight who like a little bit of misbehaving. And if you're in here, well…we know you do," their amphibian host picks up again, pausing to take a deep breath and cast a knowing smile over as someone near the pool tables howls their approval. "Settle down, Sarah, we all know that's you back there."
Laughter errupts from the pool table. Flickers of light, like tiny bursts of light like static shocks briefly illuminate minute portions of that group of friends. Someone with an electricity power, no doubt.
Their host chuckles as well, rasping and dry, but he's smiling like an imp. "Everyone give an Eight Ball welcome to one gone cat, Dummy Howard and Carl!"
Apparently a couple of fan favorites, the host leaves a high stool by the mic and a pretty average looking guy strolls over, a horn with a mute on the bell tucked up under one arm. The stool remains empty, however, until a hunched over man with reverse-double-hinged knees and very lanky, skinny arms climbs up onto the stool. The guy looks like a weird gecko of some sort, almost, his features a little too flat and stretched, but as his buddy begins to play the horn…man. Frank Sinatra /wishes/ he could be this guy. No joke. Sinatra beats him in the looks department, but as they hit it off with 'Luck be a Lady'…well…butts be wigglin'.
*
"Yes, it is Lambert Petropoulous," says Lambert to Jay, easily enough. He interlaces his fingers, over the whiskey that is just not going to touch him unless he can down a bottle "Lamont convinced me to come here, eh? I just don't know all the local spots yet." He hesitates, and then hooks some of his white curls around a very goat-ish ear that is allowed to protrude "I'm, er, hoping that no one is going to give me trouble." A wave of his bandaged hand "I'm fine, though! I read a newspaper here that said I'd been decapitated or something! No one even _interviewed_ me!" Whuf. He blows air out, and then his eyes widen again "…the music here is amazing. It's making me drunk."
*
Jay looks around when Lambert mentions someone else bringing him along for a ride. Uncertainly, he slides his guitar back over his shoulder to its resting place across his back and carefully sits down next to the guy. "Ah don't know who that is, but can't imagine why y'd get any guff." A twitch of his attention toward one of Lambert's ears and a kind little smile spreads over Jay's face. Muted. Simmering back from that fantastically bright and vibrant high he was on a moment ago. "It ain't like yer any more normal than th' rest of us. Yer just /supposed/ to be that way."
Reminded of just why he bee lined it over here, Jay leans in quick when he sees that bandage. "Ah heard what happened! Ah stopped by when Ah did, but you weren't around and Ah was worried you got yerself laid up at the stitch and pitch fer a second. That article made it sound like y'just about got gutted lahke a fish!" Pause. Squint. He reels it in a moment. "Wait. You mean actual drunk or jus' normal music drunk? Not sure how that works with the, uh, saytrin' type…"
*
"He seems to come and go," observes Lambert of Lamont "Like a shadow. Here, and then elsewhere. Eh." He rolls his shoulders back, and he moves so there is enough room to Jay "I don't know. I used to get some where I came from, I mean, you know. I mostly hid looking weird, because I can! But lockers with the football…that's hard." He grins a bit, and then he rubs the back of his neck "Hmm. Well. I'm supposed to be a lot _more_. But…" he shrugs "I'm human. Well." And he waggles his fingers, showing his hand "Aww, mighty neighbourly of you! My momma would be happy, ahha. I'll have to tell her!" He grins "A couple of stitches, but…nah. Starving mutant or…different type thought she'd steal food. I gotta work on my reputation - so folk know how to get food out of me…" Lambert's face heats a bit "I'm not a real satyr. I'd have like. Horns." He clears his throat "It makes me feel good. And when I feel _really_ good, it's kinda, uhh. Catching? I guess? Sometimes. I don't really have any powers."
*
Jay seems to relax a little bit more when he sees that the worst of it that Lambert got was a bandaged hand and a few stitches. His proverbial hackles come back down and the young musician carefully shifts his guitar and the feathers sticking out the bottom of his shirt so he can lean back more comfortably. "So long as yer doin' all raght." He still seems a little skeptical, his expression growing a bit more serious as he looks over the bar as a whole while the guys on stage belt out upbeat Sinatra songs on the horn. "That bums me out. What's wrong with folks, you know? Look around here. They all get along even when they ain't gettin' along. Th' guy at the door didn't even give me a bad rub fer bein' underage and gettin' in here." Jay, apparently oblivious of the younger drinking age New York sports for the next twenty years. "Whoever it was must'a been real desperate. It doesn't hardly make any sense." His attention falls back on to Lambert, that serious tone leveling to a lidded look at his friend. "Man, what is yer hang up on horns? You think Ah got any real power, either? Powers ain't all it's cracked up t'be. Yer saytr 'nuff. Power's just more ways you can make things real complicated real fast, believe me." He shakes his head, then pauses and takes a good, long look at his companion. Jay's expression softens a moment later, a little heat prickling around his ears. "Sorry. Ah sound like a chump. It's not easy t'be the odd man out, Ah didn't mean t'be so…I don't know…dismissive."
*
Jay has partially disconnected.
*
"Oh, I'm always doin' alright," says Lambert cheerily, and he pats his belly "As long as I have food, and everything…Well. I don't know. Maybe I look like the enemy or somethin', maybe they think normal humans are the enemy. I guess for them, I am one?" He interlaces his fingers, and he looks up at the stage, and his eyes ease, comfortably, before he says "Aww, I'll give you a drink at my place - how old are you? It can be hard to tell, you know?" He shakes his head a little at desperate. And he says "I've known desperate. Desperate is the factory closin' down when you have mouths to feed. I don't know. I think…people don't see big pictures so well. I close down my restaurant, I gotta get everyone to work double the next day so we can make rent." And then he colours up again "Because, uhhh. Well. That's how you show. You're a real man. You clack horns, right?" He looks so self-conscious, and then he says "It's okay. I always have been. Too human, or too weird, or just a chef an' not a mutant, or…like. Everythin', you know? But I don't know. Like. I don't get it. I find that a day in pants makes my tail _so sore_. Your wings. That's. Gotta _really suck_ keepin' them all folded like?"
*
Jay shrugs a shoulder absently and lowers his voice. "Ah'm nineteen. Just turned couple months ago." As if he expects the enormous bouncer to come by at any point, inform him there was a mistake and he needs to leave. "If Ah don't shave fer a bit, I don't have such a babyface." He murmurs mildly, attention naturally turning back in the direction of the music going on for now.
"Desperate is yer daddy dyin' in the mine an' havin' to drop outa school so you can go pick up his pick, else yer family can't eat." Jay remarks comparably and nods slowly. "Nah. Ah get it. Ah been all over tryin' t'get a gig. Got an interview down at the grocer in mutant town t'morrow." Jay purses his lips together slightly, not a huge fan of the idea, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
The whole concept of 'showing' is lost on him, and alien enough to him that those bright eyes shift away from the mic and back to Lambert. Squinting slightly, then murmurs, innocently. "Ah…don't get it…" No, Jay. No, you don't get it. But then they're talking about him again and he rolls one shoulder fluidly. "It ain't /comfortable/. Gettin' home and gettin' mah shirt off it just about the best thing on the planet. You got a tail? Ah thought it was just yer eyes."
*
Lambert grins at Jay, despite himself, over that babyface. He rubs his own face "I have to shave. Or like, my beard makes me looks _so_ damn wicked." He laughs at that, and then he says "I think I just wanna see your wings." And then he frowns, worriedly "Oh, man, did that happen to you? Oh, man. My father's still alive. I mean, he don't…do work like that, though he does work." And then he nudges a bit "Ahah! The grocer, eh? Well. This is the way it works in the restaurant trade, cat. You work there - and maybe _I_ buy stuff there. And we work out an arrangement and your boss gets happy with a new client."
Lambert looks at Jay for a moment, and then he says "Don't worry, it'd seem dumb. Ugh. Even my sisters have bigger horns than me. Like, I have a bump? But you can't see it and…" And he laughs "Yeah, I like to get home and put on the comfy pants…no. I got. Eyes. Ears I can hide in my hair - they don't stick out sideways none like they do with everyone else in my family. I got a tail. I don't have hooves, nor horns, nor the legs that'd let me run faster'n a deer. I can't see in the dark like they can." He refills his own whiskey from the bottle on the table "…but I can play a panpipe."
*
Jay has to smile over the visual of Lambert with a beard. "Get all curly and wild like an old billy goat?" A quick flash of a wide, toothy grin, Jay dips his head to hide it quickly until it simmers back to a smile. Scooping his hair out of his face, ruffling it around until it falls back down in a natural frame. He shrugs and nods over his father, a serenely sad little smile on his face. "Yeah. But, you know, Ah'm the second, lamer male, so it was mah brother that had t'go into the mine. Remember how I told ya he got his mutation? He shoulda died in a cave in, too." He shrugs and tilts his head back. "Little miracles, huh?"
That funny little smile warms a hint when Lambert just admits to wanting to see his wings, Jay chuckling behind closed lips. "Maybe. Some time. Ah dunno. Ah've only flown once since Ah've been here. With stuff like what happened in yer place and the newspaper and all, makes me think twice is all. It ain't like back home where there was all that open space, you know? Ah bet Texas is sorta the same where you don't gotta worry too much about someone /always/ bein' around. I hardly ever covered up back home, less Ah was on stage or goin' into town."
A little more insight into Saytr Lyfe and Jay brightens with a soft whisper of a laugh. "Panpipes huh? We should jam." He leans in a little bit then, trying to sneak a completely not discrete look at Lambert's ears. If he's able, a pale hand reaches forward to try to brush curly hair out of the way. "Hooves would suck…"
*
"Ha ha! Yes!" says Lambert, without a stitch of self-consciousness. Whatever he is, there is no shame about it. He then reaches out to offer the glass across to Jay "I can drink from the bottle. I remember. That's…hard stuff. Don't know what I'd do…" He hesitates "What do you mean, lamer? Come on. I wanna know. Would your dad have actually said that?" He shakes his head a bit, and then he wrinkles his nose "I figure that they attacked my place because they thought I was human and wouldn't miss the food. I guess I am human. But I do miss it…ugh. I can understand, though. I used to be able to _really_ run. So you've always been a performer?"
Then Lambert hesitates, and he rubs his temples "No, hooves, they're great. The pipes…I don't cause the Madness that my Grandfather does. I can sometimes cause people to lose control and drink hard, but it isn't deliberate. I just want people to have fun -" He does not seem to mind being touched - but as he has shown before, his entire concept of personal space is very different from normal. He has upswept ears, somewhere between elfin and goatish, that have a fine fuzz on the back. And his hair, close, is more like fleece "I could play music though."
*
The glass is greeted with an easy hand to wrap around it. Good Guy Jay is a Good Guy, but it's not like he's never drank before. So he simply smiles back to Lambert and promises, "I owe ya." Then takes a short swig, winces with it and shrugs, his fingers turning the glass a quarter turn back and forth on the table. "Nope. Daddy wouldn't have said any of that. My younger sister, now, she's said that and plenty worse, but, you know, she's just that sort sometimes." He smiles gently. Every family's got one.
Jay leans in and takes a peek at that ear when he's allowed, and like a little kid at a petting zoo for the first time, discovering how awesomely soft a sheep ear is, Jay gives an open mouthed smile and wrinkles his nose slightly. "Neat, heh…" then lets go and sits back again in a casual lounge. "Mmmn, yeah. Music's always been my thing. About the only real thing Daddy and I really ever bonded over, and Ah've been playin' since I can remember. Had a little band back home. Before all," Jay gestures at himself, "/this/ happened, Ah was still a musician. What do you mean you used t'run? What happened there? You still got legs." He smiles, joking lightly.
"Wait…what madness? There's a madness that goes along with y'alls music?"
*
Well, Lambert is not going to be the kind of creature that objects to drinking, certainly. The whiskey is decent, but a little hot to the back of the throat, and Lambert laughs, and he says "Well, that's just younger sisters - they're bratty. I have three. And three older ones too. And six brothers." He blows out, inflating his cheeks "_That_ house was _way_ too busy even for me. So much noise and chatter…" He shakes his head, but he stays still for the investigation. Indeed, it is soft. And alive - because it twitches when touched. Lambert is able to tuck it away back under his curly hair, though.
"I like all kinds of music, but I admit, I like the Greek pop, right? There's all these…Greek versions of American singers, it makes me laugh, but the language…well. What sort of thing did your father play? Or was he a singer? You're an incrediable singer…do you got two voices like a bird does?" A bit of a nod, then Lambert looks uneasy "Ehhh. I dunno. Back home, when I was in a normal school? I was too fast. Now here, it's different again. And there's the restaurant to run. I love my staff, but restaurants, they're intense. Twelve hour work days…" He nods "Have you ever heard of the G-" Wait. This is Jay. Lambert corrects hastily "The Myth Dionysis?"
*
"That is a lot," though Jay doesn't seem astounded by the size of the family. "Ah got five younger sisters, one older. Two younger brothers an' the one older." He shrugs and smiles fondly, keen on the whole lot of them. "Daddy always liked music playing and he liked all kinds. Elvis, Sinatra, Hank Williams, Perry Como, Doris Day…you know. Little Bing Crosby and he wouldn't always admit it but some Nat King Cole sometimes or Ray Charles." He rattles off a string of musicians and chuckles to himself, looking into that glass he's been gifted for a little while. He takes another sip and there's still that faint wince and a short sucking of air through his teeth after.
"Mm yeah, you mentioned that one sorta last time we talked. Fantasia. You said that wasn't him but it was close and stuff, raght? He's lahke…the grape cat."
*
Jay also flushes with some color when he gets asked about his voice. Pretty easy to tell with his fair skin. A habitual tap of his tongue against one corner of his mouth and Jay shrugs and nods. "Suppose so. Ah mean…Ah can mimic anythin' I wanna. Can harmonize with m'self. Can make it sound like a whole choir just about. Ah still can only form up one set of words atta time of course, but yeah." He nods, a little sheepish. "It comes in handy with singing. And can be damned funny mimickin' stuff."
*
Lambert admits "It's _tonnes_. But. Grandpa got what he wanted - the seventh son of a seventh son." He grins, and then he says 'Haha! Wow, same as me! Though I'll do your family a favour, and not introduce my brothers to your sisters. I wouldn't trust none of them as far as I could toss them. And I can't toss them far." He is relaxing now, and his tail flicks, moving slightly as he gestures "Yeah, like that. S…sort of. So. Dionysis is kind of in charge of grape harvest, winemaking and wine, ritual craziness, uhhhh. Fertility, theatre, an' bein' like. Overcome with. Religion, kind of? You know, so happy and in tune with the world you feel like you're open to the G…to Gods?" He rubs the back of his neck "And as, uhhhh. Followers. Like. Little fragmentary bits. Or, er, well. Anyway. He fell in love with…you know, those old Greek myths. Anyway, er. Revelry. Stuff like that. So we reflect bits. Drink with us, and cares become old memories. We'll insire poetry and song. And some _truly_ bad ideas." He grins. Sheepish in turn. And then he tilts his head, and he says "Really? _Really_? But that's great! Wow! Like, I know birds can do that, because harpies have two voices - but you're like. _Nothing like a harpy_ in looks. Also, you're a cat, cat. I mean. A guy."
*
Jay smiles and rolls his eyes, "Oh man. Can you 'magine gettin' a satyr line tangled up with mutants? Ah mean, we're still human…Ah guess, we're just broken? Or. Somethin'? Ah dunno. Like when you get an albino duck an' it's sterile or somethin', though that's clearly not the case so much." Green eyes squint as Jay listens to himself and smiles. "That made almost no sense. Ah promise I ain't drunk!" And laughs softly, in a whisper.
Then he gets to listen to Lambert's explanation on Dyonisus and really, other than the point where he mentions multiple gods again, which gets him an automatically skeptical look from Jay, it all seems pretty well received. "So, he had all these powers and because y'all trickle down from there, you got some of 'em. Sure. Ah get that. Ah mean…" Jay rolls his eyes up to look at the ceiling a moment, then back to his friend. "Seems pretty simple. Lahke gettin' blue eyes or somethin'. Except…magic or whatever. Powers. That sounded crazy, too, huh?" The young man chuckles again, softly.
Jay flushes a deeper shade around his ears and down his neck while Lambert gushes about his voice, then sputters on a short bark of a laugh. "A cat. Cat bird. Caw, meow, sheesh. Nah, nah, Ah know what you mean. But…what's a harpie? What do y'mean Ah look nothin' like one?"
*
"Not broken," frowns Lambert "Nah, no more than bein' black makes you 'broken', right?" He picks his bottle up and has a swig, and then he tops of Jay's "Look, I told you I came from a farm. But my family, they mostly had to hide. I mean, my brothers are _real_ sweet talkers, and it was _still_ me getting the dates because of looks. So we understand different, right? The thing is, like. Jay, folk have been hidin' what's different for years. Mutant or not. Mutant makes it worse - I ain't denyin' that. But. Don't say broken."
Then the goat-guy grins "Yep! Just like that. They were a lot stronger than my Grandfather, and he's a lot stronger than me. But that's what it was. Old stuff from way back. So you see, it's a family thin', right? And the fact is, women married in 'coz my lot are cooks, haha! Got to feed your ladies right if you want them to stay by you." He tilts his head "You got a girl?" And then he grimaces "Awful thin's. Maybe cursed? I don't know for _sure_ - I've only heard stories. Things with a bird body and a human head - they sing pretty, like you do. But they eat people. They might not be real. And the human head is ugly."
*
Jay squints just a little, watching as Lambert fills his glass up a bit more. His voice leans and hesitates, "Yeah…but the black thing is…different." He tilts his head a bit, thinking really hard on the subject. Ow. "Listen. Ah'll not say mutants are broken, when you stop worryin' so much about horns." He arches an eyebrow at the man next to him and holds his glass out, waiting for a toast in agreement, or not.
Food is always something people can agree on, isn't it? Jay smiles, warmed and humored, "Believe me. One thing everyone appreciates back home is good cookin'. Ah don't know anyone who doesn't. If they say they don't, they're fibbin'." The seamless, innocent question after the subject makes Jay's pleasant expression freeze for a hard second, then sucks all the light from the expression, though his mouth remains curved upward in a polite facimile of a smile. Glancing down and away, Jay nods a few times, uncomfortable. His wings twitch slightly and he takes a little sip from his glass again. "Ah…yeah, actually. Ah did. She was great. But, you know. Not any more." He lifts his attention back up to Lambert again and tilts his head a bit. "What about you? Got a lucky chickadee to wow with yer cookin'?" The explanation of a harpy, is given a bizarre look, but largely bypassed. Just keep on adding to the description. Jay smiles a little bit again. "Oh, and the head's ugly. Gee. Well, glad I ain't lookin' like them, then."
*
"Ugh," says Lambert, then he sighs "I'm tryin'. I figure, by this point I'm like. Well past growing pains. Man, my dad has such awesome ones though!" He scratches the side of his head "I get the dink tail and the weird eyes, but not the powerful stuff. But. I guess I can cook, right?" Because normal humans cannot possibly cook…Lambert is then smirking a bit. He has some pride there. He even taps his breast a bit, before he says "You should tell me what your favourite meal is! I'll make it! I mean, I'll probably got to get a recipe…"
And then Lambert grimaces "Ehhh, sorry. Oh! Okay, bad breakup? But you know, you shouldn't just go steady. That's too serious. You need to make sure it's all right." He considers, and he says "Not right now. Back home, errrr. I kind of. Made a mess of everything. Jugglin' too many things, and leading folks on, and…" A cheery smile, but a slightly guilty one "Oh, oh! Nah. You're cute." He should be awkward, but really, Lambert just seems so out of _culture_ here. And not worried at all about how he might be perceived "Oh! Do you know any other fliers? I've seen someone who can hover."
*
"Hey, cookin's important," Jay adamantly points out as he thumbs his glass a little bit. "That's a /gift/. Ya got the touch or y'don't. And yer tail is neat, don't get me started on weird shit hangin' off yer body, cause Ah think Ah got you beat, chum." A crooked little smile. "Ah'll think about the meal thing. M'ma can cook, Ah got like seventeen favorites." Jay hums on a gentle chuckle and takes another sip from his glass, nodding a couple times in rolling succession with his eyes fixed on the liquid. "Yeah, bad break up. Well. Ah mean." He squints and hesitates, pursing his lips together a touch on the tight side before he decides to mention. "She died? Because'a me? So…Ah guess that's pretty bad." He drops the rest of the glass back and leans back, abandoning the glass and grimacing after that burn. A bitter little smile flicked over to Lambert, Jay is at something of a loss over that note and lets his gaze turn towards the stage. "It's okay." It's not okay. It's really not okay. He doesn't even react to Lambert calling him cute. Instead, the musician inhales a deep breath and tries to cleanse his pallet. "Mm, none with wings. Ah saw a guy with a cape that seemed lahke it made him fly. It was a real bizarre thing. But, Ah mean…Ah've only lived here two weeks, and before that, the only other mutant Ah knew were mah brother an' sister."
*
Oh ho! Family recipes! Now Lambert brightens "Seventeen huh. Hmm. Do you think if I sent your mama home preserved olives and honeycomb she'd write 'em down for me?" He rubs the side of his ear, having to give into the whole 'weird shit hangin' off the body' thing. It is true, after all. Then he says "Uh." Well. That stops him flat. Lambert coughs, suddenly, before he mutters "Real sorry." When he looks up, his face is slightly worried "I won't pry, but careful on proportioning blame. That's what God does. Not you. Uh. Look. I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you…" How, really? Lambert runs his fingers nervously through his hair, and then he says "No, this guy didn't have wings. He just floated! And he got snippy at me when I had to close the kitchen - I was bleedin', and it ain't sanitary." He asides to Jay under his breath "The inspectors here are _tough_." A nod, and then an idea strikes Lambert "Hey. Hey. Would you _sing_ for food? Because on Friday nights, I like music at my place. I could pay you a few dollars, and get you a dinner."
*
"She just might," Jay says casually of his mother, exchanging recipes for food stuffs with a saytr. Weird days! "She used t'be part of this recipe exchange thing…Ah dunno. M'aunt got her into it. I'll mention it next time I call her up."
Lambert's discomfort doesn't seem to affect Jay too much. He's distanced and shut down pretty hard, a distracted and hollow feeling to the young man who seemed so full of life and warmth after singing earlier. "Lambert…it's okay. Just—" Jay's eyelids flutter in gentle exasperation as they slip shut and he holds up a hand mildly. "Just stop, okay?" His hand drops, defeated, looking back to the man beside him. "I know all th' stuff folks wanna say. Ah know God's got a plan, an' she's in a better place, an' everythin' an' Ah just…" Jay exhales a hard, emotional breath as his eyes snap shut for another moment of trying to pull himself back together for the sake of being in public. Wings bristle and fluff up under his shirt, looking uncomfortable and pinned against his seat. He smiles. But it doesn't look much like one. It's a little too sharp. Too taut. "Just real not ready t'hear it all raght now, okay? Ah'm still just a little too angry t'be understandin' of God's plan raght now." About the most civil way he can put it, Jay blinks a few times and regards Lambert evenly. "But thanks. Fer tryin' to make me feel better. Yer a good guy. An', yeah…yeah Ah think Ah'd really like that plan on Fridays." The edge comes off a little bit as Jay relaxes again, physically as well. "It'd get me in t'finally taste yer cookin'. I am always in if there's a good home cooked meal involved."
"How about Ah come over tomorrow and we'll talk about it?" Jay offers evenly. "Ah gotta get home if Ah'm gonna make that thing at the grocer's tomorrow."
*
Lambert scratches under the fleece that pretends to be hair on his head "Erm," he says, five kinds of self conscious "Urhhn. Okay. I wasn't gonna say those things. I was just gonna say. Don't hurt yourself more. But I'm leavin' it there - watch me leave it!" He holds his hands up, and then he says "Okay - look. I can't afford much. I got staff, and Marcie's got a lil' girl to raise." No father on the scene is mentioned, and Lambert says "Okay, come by. This'll be in the evenings so you can do two, and maybe keep tips for your singin'. Consider it, okay? Besides. I'm just a lil'." Nervous. After the event. "Aww, I dunno. Come over, I'll feed you tomorrow, and we'll hash it out - if it don't work, no problems. Okay?" He sits back with his bottle "I'm going to stay here. I feel like bein' around people. Always makes me feel better."
*
Jay gathers to his feet and snags his guitar again, securing it on his back by the neck strap taut over his chest. "Yeah, fer sure. Ah'll drop in t'morrow and if all I get out of it's a hot meal, Ah'm good on that. Accounts fer a lot in my book." He flicks a vague smile back to his companion. "B'sides, if ya get another crazy on yer case, Ah can take the hit this time and it won't matter none." He shrugs and flashes a quick wink to Lambert, then snaps his fingers. "Oh, yeah, before Ah ferget. Yer pal, the guy with the dog. Kai? (Kah). Let me know if ya know how t'get ahold of him. I feel like I probably gotta apologize to that cat." Jay slides his hands in his pockets smoothly and rocks back on his heels. "It was my second dy here and…still sorta reelin' with it all. Feel like I made him feel bad."
*
Lambert rubs his temples "Ugh, why did the paper say she'd nearly killed me?" he wonders, not yet used to the way news works in the big city "Oh! I'll tell him if I see him. No, no, it's okay - besides, I get the feeling he's sensitive. He was at the anti-mutant protest holdin' a sign supportin' you guys." Lambert chews this over "Wasn't your fault. We can't account for everything, can we? Anyway - go on. Have a nice night. Haha! Better not drive like that. I'll see you soon - and if you get that chick with the guitar in too? I'll double your pay." He snaps his fingers. Lambert sure loves his little business!
*
Jay looks touched for a second when he hears Kai was off supporting them, and all. He holds onto that thread of feeling as he nods, looks at his shoes and straightens up again, squaring his shoulders and whatnot. "Drive? Hah! Cause Ah can afford a car? Nah, Ah'll be good. Ain't too far. Be safe, Pal. Ah'll see y'tomorrow." He starts walking backwards. "Oh, and Sophie. Her name's Sophie. Case y'see her again. Take it easy, man." And out Jay goes.
*