Participants:
| Scene Title | Anotehr Day, Another Dollar |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Aaron comes in to fill out some paperwork, get rid of a headache and feed on a bit more emotion. |
| Date | April 20, 2009 |
Old Lucy's has a vibrant and lively feel to it, from the dark wooden floors to the shady crimson walls lit up by neon lights and many times, the flashing of cameras from the oft-crowded floor. The mirror behind the bar reflects prices of various drinks, bottles lined up, as well as the entire saloon as seen from the bartenders; bolted-down stools line the other side, and there are loose tables and chairs placed all around, though many times they find themselves pushed back for more space within the center of the saloon. A few speakers are placed at strategic places and around a raised stage to the far corner from the bar. Above the counter, an obviously well-used bar is hung; it is this that the girls working will use should there be dancing, which is one reason many patrons choose to come aside from the drinks. Across the bar and near the back, there is a door that leads to the owner's office and just inside a stairwell that leads a apartment on the floor above the bar.
Another day, another dollar. At seven in the evening, it's just starting to show signs of darkness creeping in on the horizon, and Aaron finds himself walking three blocks from one place of work to the significantly different place of work. Old Lucy's. He still hasn't gotten used to the bar dancing, which has him at times utterly perplexed, but it's money. His student loans can't be waived forever. Despite the fact that he's only coming to sign paperwork, he still carries his guitar with him, in its case slung over his shoulder as he enters the bar, even though he hasn't used it since Saturday night. As usual, the gray of the bar's occupants comes to his attention, but at this point, he doesn't pay it much heed. Instead, he pays attention to the pulsing throb between his temples, the first of many headaches to come.
There's a spot of color. Faint, but it's there. Most of the bartenders have color on them. Abigail though, not so dimmed as she was before. Days are getting easier. Save she's not behind the counter but off in a corner at a table, a bouncer near her to help keep people away and studying. Laptop up and plunking away at the keys, forefinger by forefinger. The mark of someone who isn't very skilled at computers. Transposing her written words. The dancing only happens every 45 minutes to an hour, and it's not raunchy just .. entertaining. The noise doesn't seem to bother the redhead at all or distract her from her homework, save to stop and chug down something sickly green looking that requires chewing on occasion.
The staff may be more cheery, but although many of the occupants appear to be having a good time, only a small portion of them actually are having a good time. Aaron makes his way to the bar to grab a glass of gingerale before making his way over towards Abigail. "I'm sorry to bother you, Abigail, but I believe you had some paperwork for me to fill out?" Somebody narrowly misses bumping into his guitar. He almost wears his drink, but he manages to keep it in the glass, and the guitar goes untouched. It's sacred, from the way he keeps it from being touched by anyone else.
"Aaron!" Yup, paperwork!. "Have a seat, let me dig it up." It's somewhere under the piles of papers there, and eventually it's found. The paperwork needed to get paid, take off the requisite taxes etc etc. They're slid over to the other side of the table, a pen with it and Abigail shifts the laptop just enough to make room for him and his glass. "How was work today? I'm off duty but, the apartment was too quiet"
The guitar goes between his legs, sandwiched between he and the table — protected. "I stock shelves and run a till. It's not really stimulating, and most people are … still — I swore I'd never work retail again, but there I am, working retail." He clearly has all of his information memorized with the speed at which he attacks the paperwork. He stops for a moment and takes a drink of his gingerale on the rocks. Yes, he prefers his soda with ice, when he drinks it at all. He eyes the concoction Abby has been drink-eating. "I have to say, that doesn't look appetizing."
"It's fruity" Abigail offers up. "I can get you a spoon and you can try. We call it swamp sludge, because it looks like it, but it's really not. The lumps are raspberries" Abigail offers a small smile. "It's all money, and in the end, we still need it to just have a roof over our head and food"
"Another day, another dollar. Seems to sum things up pretty well these days," Aaron says. "And I'll just take your word for it." He goes back to his paperwork, squinting once or twice. It may look like he could use reading glasses, but it's just a bit of a headache. He takes another drink before signing his life away for the second time. Then a third. He stacks all the papers neat afterward before setting the pen on top of them. "I think all is in order."
If it is bad eyes, she could fix that. Same goes for the headache. The squinting is well noticed and as he puts the paperwork down, she offers her hand over to him. "Give me your hand" A gentle smile on her face. "Do you trust me?"
Aaron looks at Abigail with a distinct, 'huh' expression, but he does relinquish his hand to her. "What are you doing to do, read my palm or something?"
"Massage your hand. There's nerves in your hand that correspond to various parts of the body, like your feet. You look like your head is hurting" Or your eyes are bad. Either or she can help deal with. "I'm going to school to become a paramedic but one of my friends taught me some tricks" Forget that the light tingling and warmth will have nothing to do with the massage.
"I do. Just a tension headache, I think," Aaron says after a brief nod. "Accupressure? Sweet." He becomes more relaxed now that he knows she's not doing anything crazy. It would be unfortunate to have a nut for a boss or manager, at any rate. He feels a warm tingle in his head, and the pain's metaphorically zapped away by the warm, tingly goodness of Abigail's ministrations. "It's warm," he says absently.
"Your beside the laptop vent" D'uh, Abigail points out, even as her fingers work his palm, letting the headache be massaged away with her hands. "Enjoying working here? Looking forward to the your next shift?" Make small talk, keep an eye on things around them. For all that she's working his hand, if any customer gets too close, the bouncer is giving them an eye, and Abby's unconsciously leaning away from them.
"Right," Aaron says, his eyes fixing direct on Abby's for a moment before he turns away quickly, almost blushing. "It's music. It's my life, all I know, really," he says. "Doesn't really matter where it is, I'm just glad I can make a buck doing it. I've got like, ninety-thousand dollars worth of student loans to pay off. They're waived right now, but that won't last forever."
"Well, we can't work that debt off, but we can certainly help you to get a tiny chunk of that debt erased" A few more minutes of hand rubbing and she lets him go, the flow tapered down to nothing. "But it must be nice to do what you love"
"It certainly does help," Aaron says, headache-free for the moment. "I was getting my degree in music. In retrospect, I should have taken it all in four years instead of five. I would have my degree now if I had…." He grips the neck of his guitar case. "But you don't need a degree to play music, and certainly don't need a degree to compose. The only thing a degree is good for is looking good on a resume."
"Or trying to get a job as a paramedic. I have a good scholarship though, so it's helping. Means I only need to work here as much as I need to to pay for my rent and food and gas for my scooter. But some things, you need the degree for or they won't hire you" one would think. She gathers his paper up, looking them over and signing them where she needs to.
"You drive a scooter?" Aaron asks, a smirk on his face. "I just walk. I mean, I have nowhere to go, really. Everything I need is within walking distance. I live above my work and three blocks away from my other work, which is definitely the preferred job." He takes a drink of his gingerale.
"I used to live in Brooklyn then Chinatown. Bus schedules meant that what should be an hour drive, was about 3. So a friend resurrected a vintage Vespa shell and tinkered and so the scooter out in the side, the green one, that's mine. It was a gift for helping her out when she did something stupid"
"Well, if you have to get around a lot, a scooter's better than a car, at least, unless it's winter," Aaron says, taking another quick sip of his drink. "Used to live in Midtown, moved to the Village for school and avoided the fate of everyone close to me…." His last few words are bitter and slow, and he gives his temples a light rub. "Guess the acupressure didn't quite take. Not that it's as bad as it was. More like it was a couple of hours ago while I was still stocking shelves."
"Lemme try again" Abigail offers. "Probably didn't hit the right places" Bullshit. She felt it take, felt it taper off. "It's not too bad in winter you just have to have winter gear to ride. but even then, I take the bus or I get a ride with someone" The redhead frowns at the fact that his headache came back.
Aaron proffers the requested hand. Sure enough, the headache has returned, though not nearly as bad as when Abigail originally took hold of him. "Perhaps try the other hand?" he suggests. He has no idea what she's actually doing when she manipulates his hand, which is probably a good thing all things considered. That would just make things … awkward.
"Maybe the other hand" It's kept in the path of the air vent on the laptop, help disguise things, but the mental prayer uttered, she's concentrating, letting her ability work again. "Stubborn headache"
"You're doing all of this, and now I feel bad," Aaron says, not catching on that the warmth is not from the laptop. "I feel like I owe you something. What can I do to help you?"
"No, no, you don't owe me anything. helps me practice though." Though she looks a fraction more tired. She's spent a good chunk of the day getting poked and prodded by Sonny at his clinic, dealing with his front desk woman, there was the tarantula, you name it. "Just keep playing good music, it's helping to keep folks coming in. They like it when you play. I like it when you play your music. Makes me feel better"
"Well, they do say something about the healing power of music," Aaron says. "Though I can't rightly recall precisely what it was … and then, music soothes the savage beast, and all that. It's a fun talent to have, though I wish you guys had a proper piano … and I still had a violin. No matter, since I'll buy a new one eventually, anyway."
Music soothes the savage tarantula. That memory prompts a smile to surface. Baby come back! Her shoulders shake a little with a smothered laugh. "Sorry, just remembering something from this morning" She works it just a little longer than she should before letting his hand go gently. "That should hopefully do it now"
"With any luck, it will stay away this time," Aaron says, pulling his guitar out. "And I just have to play a song for you now because you said you liked it and consider it payment for the acupressure." For this song, he doesn't pull out a pick, and instead there's some advanced fingerplay on the fret board as he imitates the legato of a violin or some other string instrument, for which the particular piece of classical music, the Elgar Cello Concerto in E Minor, Op. 85. Despite it's start, however, it works into an arpeggio that isn't quite the original classical piece, but rather a beautiful song from a recent motion picture:
"When the one thing you're looking for
Is nowhere to be found,
And you're back-stepping all of your moves
Tryin' to figure it out.
You want to reach out,
You want to give in,
Your head's wrapped around
What's around the next bend,
You wish you could find something warm,
'Cause you're shivering cold…."
He begins to strum.
"It's the first thing you see as you open your eyes,
The last thing you say as you're sayin' good-bye.
Something inside you is cryin'
And drivin' you on….
It's the first thing you see as you open your eyes,
the last thing you say as you're sayin' good-bye.
Something inside you is cryin' and drivin' you on….
The next two lines are on a single, sustained chord.
"'Cause if you hadn't found me…. I would have found you…."
The strum resumes
"I would have fou-ou-ou-ound you…"
So long you've been running in circles, around what's at stake,
but now the time's come for you feet to stand still in once place.
You want to reach out, you want to give in,
your head's wrapped around what's around the next bend.
You wish you could find something warm, 'cause you're shivering cold…
It's the first thing you see when you open your eyes,
the last thing you say as you're saying good-bye,
Something inside you is cryin' and drivin' you on…
It's the first thing you see when you open your eyes,
the last thing you say as you're saying good-bye,
Something inside you is cryin' and drivin' you on…
'Cause if you hadn't found me,
I would have found you….
I would have fou-ou-ou-ound you…
It was your first taste of love
Living upon what you had
It's the first thing you see when you open your eyes,
the last thing you say as you're saying good-bye,
Something inside you is cryin' and drivin' you on…
'Cause if you hadn't found me,
I would have found you….
I would have fou-ou-ou-ound you…
I would have found //you…
I would have found … oh you//
Someone finally chooses a movie she has seen. Abigail listens one arm up, elbow on the table edge as bad manners often dictate, the heel of her hand supporting her chin as Aaron starts to play. Someone has the brains to turn down the house music and so he's suddenly the impromptu entertainment for this moment at least. The color in Aaron's eyes improve in a few people around the bar and Abigail as well as she closes her eyes and listens to the music, her head swaying back and forth with her arm following in suit.
Well, at any rate, the headache won't be returning. Aaron's eyes are closed by the time the song ends and he just revels in a moment of silence. "It's nice to see the occasional film about musicians with songs that are actually decently written and cared for," is his comment, though he knows there's some room for improvement, as he doesn't feel the verses or chorus were quite finished. "That song is just … life."
"It's very beautiful. I don't see very many movies, but I did see that one. You did it good" When she finally opens her eyes, an honest to god smile on the young woman's face. Definitely brighter than before. Pills or no. "When Izzy comes back and the curfews are lifted, she may just hire you full time to play music. Guy or no"
"I make it a point to either be good at something, or not perform it, typically. I refuse to not do a song justice," Aaron says with a crooked grin. "That, of course, would make my day. Get me out of retail…. not sure how my landlord would like that, but I'm sure I could find another place. I think you mentioned the Village Renaissance, was it?" He shrugs and packs his guitar away, the newly returned color to people not going unnoticed, but not mentioned or reacted to. "At any rate, I know a lot of instrumental music to help save my voice. I don't suppose … Izzy? could be pursuaded to get a real piano or a better keyboard, at least? I don't know if business is good enough to warrant that or if it would fly, but it's a suggestion I can't help but put forth." He finishes his drink.
"Piano, no, Keyboard. Maybe. I'll see what the budget is in the bar, and maybe we'll go looking for once. I think you'll be sticking around for as long as you want to" Abigail studies him, looking for traces of the headache returning and satisfied at seeing none, she picks up her swamp sludge to take another chunky sip. "Village renaissance. They're trying to revitalize the village, to bring affordable and safe housing to those in the neighborhood. Give back. When i asked how much the rent was, they asked me how much I was able to afford. I shot low, just to see and… I now have a two bedroom apartment that's actually in a really safe building. round the clock security even, for a very indecently low price"
"I'll have to look into that. The more money I can pour at my student loans, the better." Aaron stands. "Well, it's been a blast, Abby, but I should head back home and get some sleep. I have to open tomorrow." He collects his guitar. "And thanks for the acupressure."
"Anytime Aaron. You never know what it helps with. It's crazy like that. get home safe okay?" She's still got some work to do and an empty apartment waiting. Yeah, she's dreading that. Maybe not as much as she was before, but she still is.
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