Bitter for Sweet


quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Bitter for Sweet
Synopsis After the audition decision, Quinn draws Sable aside to discuss the less obvious consequences.
Date May 30, 2010

The Rock Cellar


The jam had gone pretty well, even if Quinn was having trouble a bit of trouble integrating her violin style in with Magnes and Sable, though a quick bit on piano had been a bit more friendly sounding to her ears. But the entire time, there was a lot more on her mind than just the music that the trio was playing, something that kept her gaze downwards for the majority of their playtime, despite the smile on her face.

As soon as the jam session was over and equipment had either been stowed away or packed up, Quinn takes no hesitation in beelining for the door of the Rock Cellar - but she doesn't exit. Instead, she lingers and waits, eyeing Sable and Magnes. It's only once the latter leaves that she speaks again, making a motion to Sable. A half smile on her face, she motions the girl over.

"Hey, wanna go for a walk?" A simple enough question, but there's a sense of deliberate intent behind it.

Sable has had a hard time not glance to Quinn quite a lot, so there's no way she misses her call. The question receives a quick nod. "Jus' thinkin' of askin' you the same," she says, smiling. It's a little crooked, the smile, and not roguishly so, as she prefers. A lot has happened and not a lot has been addressed. She sidles up to Quinn, hands slipping into her pockets.

"Lead the way, comrade."

"Comrade?" Quinn's eyebrow is crooked, a curious expression offered. "That's a right odd… designation." She grins, slipping her own hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "You play better than you said, by the by." It had been the first time Quinn had really heard Sable play more than her acoustic guitar. Turning away from her, she motion to the door once before pushing it open, hesitating as she waits for Sable to pass.

"Aw thanks," Sable says, "'n'… thanks…" First about her musicianship, second for the door, a little surprising to her. She slips outside, ducking a little bit into her coat as the cold air hits. "'n' yeah, comrade in arms! Jus' how I think of it. Soldiers of love, battlin' with music. Y'know… all that." She grins, "You play too damn well, girl. No way I could say no without /knowin'/ why I'd said no."

Quinn follows out behind Sable, a grin forming on her face as she does. "Like I said, there's no accountin' for genre and desire, you know?" Both of them outside, Quinn takes the lead as she turns down the street, not towards anything in particular, and starts walking. "Comrades in arms. That's a fun way of putting it." For once, Quinn lacks her trademark headphones, leaving the air dry of any lingering music that normally permeates from them. "It was fun today, though. The jammin' and all."

"You got that right," Sable says, with a huff. She falls in step. Where they go is no object. It's that they're going, and going together. "It was," she agrees, "You make some cute faces when you really go at it with that fiddle 'f yours," if she's picked up on Quinn's distaste for the term, she pretends not to, which is just her style, "I never seen what I look like when I'm doin' a solo. Scared t' find out!"

Quinn looks down at her companion and laughs. "Cute enough, I'm sure. I'd say for sure, but violin takes a lot of m' focus." That's the last word out of Quinn for several moments as the pair continues forward, and for the first time since they stepped outside, Quinn's ever positive smile falters a bit, the girl's shoulders slumping and a long sigh escaping her lips as she walks.

"'m sorry, just so y' know." It's kinda sudden, and she's not sure Sable even wants to have the discussion Quinn's about to start, but she still feels it necessary.

"What the hell for?" Sable says, arching a brow as she glances at her companion sidelong, "I'd tell y' it's fine or whatever, but I dunno what in God's name y'think you've done needs my forgiveness 'r' anythin'." As if there is not discussion to be had, or as if it has already been had.

Quinn wrinkles her nose, contemplating exactly how to respond for a moment. "I just remember what you said at th' Village yesterday. Couldn't help but feel a bit bad while I was on stage and all." Her shoulders roll, a bit of a nervous tone in her voice, not unlike the night they'd met. She'd had that feeling in the pit of her stomach the entire audition, though she'd done her best not to show it. "A right proper shame, really." A pause and a half grin. "If 'ya want me to shut up, just says so."

Sable gives another huff. "Hey," she sticks out her hand, clasping Quinn's, "What are the goddamn odds, eh?" She half smiles back as well, completing the missing portion of Quinn's own expression. "Hon, I'd become celibate if I knew it'd bring me what I wanted, make me th' life I've spent this whole life tryin' to build. I wanna make music. I wanna stand next t' the greats and feel nothin' but pride 'n' gratitude," she gives Quinn's hand a squeeze, "I think y' c'n be part of that, Quinn. T' let anythin' get in the way of that… that'd be a betrayal. 'n' when things happen /like this/, like… like a goddamn test, well - all the more reason t' do what you gotta, 'cuz you catch yerself wishin' you didn't have t'."

She's a bit surprised when Sable takes her hand, but Quinn tries to hide it. She's unsure at first of exactly what Sable means, but after a moment of thought, she's pretty sure she gets it. She thinks; it seemed to loop around a bit at one point. "I 'uppose. Still kinda sucks. You're a right cute lass" - suddenly, she's a little Scottish or something in an effort to be cute - "And I'd fancy stayin' close to you, but…" She trails off again, shaking her head. "Sorry, I'm bein' a bit selfish, aren't I?" She squeezes Sable's hand in turn, but doesn't let go, a smirk still on her face.

Sable gives a rueful laugh, "Aw hell," she says, "Can't hardly blame you. I'd be sore about losin' me too, if I were you." She snickers, grinning wickedly at Quinn, daring her to take Sable down a notch. As evasions go, this is pretty standard.

“Hmph!” Making an exaggerated movement, Quinn feigns insult, letting out a huff. “Someone’s right full of themself!” A playful bump to Sable’s side and some laughter help Quinn feel a bit better about the whole thing. She exhales sharply, only this time a bit more wistful sounding.

The yellow eyed girl's snickers spill over into giggles as she stumbles to the side at the blow. She theatrically flails with her other arm, and then starts to tip over, hand still holding Quinn’s, pulling her along. Playing as if Quinn doesn't know her own strength, though her laughter betrays the act.

Quinn’s first instinct is to let go and keep walking and whistling, but she’s not that mean. Unfortunately, she’s also is clumsier than Sable might have been anticipating, and it takes a good grip and digging her heels in not to send both Sable and herself tumbling to the wet pavement. Somehow, between her laughter and her surprise, she manages to keep upright, and in one lunge backwards is able to pull Sable back up.

Sable rises to her feet without much difficulty - actually falling might have been less hilarious than painful, even in their cushions of winter gear. She brushes herself off, despite nothing have happened. "Close thing, that," Sable says, with an air of performative relief, "You gotta watch y'rself, hon. You got a dangerous goddamn weapon there. Handle with care!" She returns the bump, lightly.

“I’ll do well t’ remember that when you’re in the snow next time I ‘ave to lay one on you,” Quinn replies with a wink. The smile’s fully returned to her face now, her hands returned to the pockets of her hoodie. “So, what now?” Talk about a question up for interpretation.

Sable's own hands mirror Quinn's with a slight delay, slipping into the pockets of her jacket, more than a little bit oversized. "We make music," she says, matter-of-factly, "We bring these poor bastards in this sorry city somethin' to take their minds off the day t' fuckin' day and give them a little fuckin' perspective, some hope 'n' despair in proper measure, y'know?" She pauses - this statement was made in seriousness, however grand the prose. But she quickly defuses it by adding, "'n' we make sure, when we're rich 'n' fuckin' famous that you 'n' me have separate dressin' rooms, because otherwise I ain't gonna have the presence of mind to remember our fuckin' set list."

Quinn chuckles, giving a quick nod. “Fair ‘nough. I’d hate for us to end up in a tizzy right before a show.” It wasn’t really what she wanted to hear, but what could she do? She certainly wasn’t going to press the issue. Not much at least. With a sudden pivot she spins around and begins walking the other way, back towards the Rock Cellar. “Would it still be weird t’ get something to eat later?”

Sable makes a show of skidding to a halt on her heels and spinning around, scrambling to catch up with Quinn after her sudden turn. "Woahnow, more warning next time!" she declares, "'n'… naw, naw, why should it be? We'll be well behaved, won't we? I mean if you are, I'll sure try t' be."

Quinn doesn’t look back behind her, instead offering a shrug as she walks – though she wishes Sable could see the smirk on her face. “You never quite know, right?” She raises one hand, back still turned, and points up two fingers. “And I’ll behave, scouts honour. Or however the devil it goes.” She laughs and then stops, turning. “It’ll be just fine.” There’s the boundless positivity.

Sable wrinkles her nose and Quinn, tapping the side of her head, "Hey, don' think I'm a dim bulb, hon. I know what you over the pond types mean when y' show off two fingers," she challenges, just making trouble for trouble's sake, "You were flippin' me off. Don't think I missed that! If you want a scuffle, hon, I'll give y' one. Don' think your charmin' goddamn accent can keep me off guard f'rever."

Quinn’s hands move to her hips, an incredulous expression on her face. She looks down at the ahnd she had held up, and then laughs. “Y’r a bit off there, ‘m afraid.” She lifts up her hand, more accurately making a palm-in V-sign. “If I wanted to flip you off, dear, you’d know I meant it.” There’s just the biggest grin across her face. “’Sides, I’m pretty sure you could kick me ass without much problem.”

"In th' interests of international relations," Sable says, returning Quinn's grin, "Right back atcha." And Sable promptly flips Quinn the bird. The finger turns into a pointer, down which she eyes Quinn, "And y'r damned right. I fight dirty, hon. Which I bet you guessed, huh?"

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, and I could do without gettin’ my hair pulled out.” Quinn turns back around and begins walking again, running a hand through her hair as she does. “I need to get back soon, van to return and all,” she comments, motioning ahead. “Do you guys… or, well, I guess do we practice at the Rock Cellar often?”

Quinn's comment about hair pulling brings some unfortunate memories up in Sable's mind, unintended salt on still-healing wounds. Sable is thankful that Quinn turns, because she's unable to keep up her appearance of good cheer for a moment. Dang, just when you think you're safe. "Naw, that's more a special favor from th' owner, I think," she says, her voice a little marked by her dip in mood, but not too much, "We got a place but we… uh… gotta sorta check with the owners of the buildin'." Meaning the Ferry. She can be less vague without risking a breach in security and, though she doesn't suspect Quinn of the least sin, she is interested in remaining in good standing… and not coming off as an idiot to her now-fellow Ferrymen.

Quinn looks back over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “A place? Like, rental space?” Quinn doubts they’re fallen into the good fortune of having studio or real practice space, so she’s more than a little curious.

Sable chuckles, "Just our apartments," she admits, "We c'n look into gettin' a real practice space when we start pullin' in cash worth mentioning," this gives her pause, and a thought, "Y' c'n keep DJin', of course. Pull in that cash. Just 's long as yer ready t' drop everythin' when we're readyin' for a gig. Sound fair?"

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Performing was her first love, but it’d take a lot to get her to stop DJing anyway. Besides, gotta make bank. “Hopefully, your tenants ‘re more lenient than the ones at my flat, ‘bout the noise and all.” The van’s comin’ into full view now, and Quinn is very quickly glad that it’s already all loaded up. “I look forward to practicing, if nothin’ else to see a place that can manage to contain the pair of ‘ya.”

"We're three now, hon," Sable says, halting as they near the van. She lifts a hand to her brow and gives Quinn a salute, "Glad t' have you with us," she says, before adding, with a wry smile, "However high the damned cost."

“That’s going to take some gettin’ used to.” Quinn’s just full of open ended remarks today, however unintentional. Reaching the fan, she peers in the back door to make sure everything is loaded, and observing that everything looking in order, she taps twice on the glass and turns back. “You need a ride?”

That'd be just fine," Sable says, gratitude mixed with a careful consideration of Quinn's words. Very open ended, a lot of this, despite the fact that closure is what Sable thinks they should be after. Thinks. Not necessarily feels. "Shame we can't just use your scooter. That's a mode 'f transport I can really get behind." And one that lets her get behind Quinn, she may recall. But no need to double any more meanings.

A smile crosses Quinn’s face as a hand motions Sable to the other side of the car. “Hop on in. I should probably know where potential future practice space is anyway, right?” Climbing in the door, a thought occurs to her, one that she hadn’t brokered to either of them earlier, and one that was bound to come up eventually. “And remind me next time we see Magnes to ask if he likes tricky light shows.”

Sable tugs open the passenger side door and hops into the seat, hauling the door closed behind her and using a fair bit of her not-exactly-generous weight to help her. "Honest," she admits, reaching behind her to adjust the height of the headrest, "I dunno how y' managed the one I saw. That all LED type crystal high tech whatsit?

That’s probably what she gets for bringing it up to begin with; despite posing the question, she hadn’t really anticipated having to explain herself. She immediately reaches for a plug in the dashboard, pulling out her iPhone and plugging it in, tossing it over to Sable in an attempt to get by some time as she decided if she wanted to be up front on the matter. “Find somethin’ to listen to.”

She leans back in her seat, watching in silence for a few moments as Sable fiddles with the device, scratching the back of her head. “Well, it’s… complicated. But it’s not. It’s…” She sighs and shrugs, poking Sable in the temple to get her attention back. “It’s a good thing I can trust you with a secret.” Or at least she assumes, given the whole new band thing.

Sable is not at all sure what to make of Quinn's reaction. Secret? What the hell is secret about a light show? After some dutiful fiddling with the iPhone, she dials up 'Demon Days' by the Gorillaz, but her attention is soon drawn by a sharp poke to her head. She yelps and rubs at her temple, "Jesus. Yeah, yeah, 'f course. Comrades in arms. Trust like no other."

“Right, figured as much. “A grin crosses Quinn’s face, and instead of buckling her seatbelt, she quite suddenly pulls herself up out of her seat and very awkwardly climbs into the back of the van – where it’s darker. Every seat in the cramped back end is down, allowing her enough room to climb and manoeuvre around all the instruments.

Sable blinks, turning in her seat to watch Quinn recede into the back of the van. She's not wear a seatbelt, so she's unimpeded, a hand coming to rest on the driver's side seat. "Aw… now what the hell's this gonna be about?"

As she situates herself, sitting cross legged in one of the few spaces not occupied by a guitar case or synthesizer or what not, she flashes a nervous smile at Sable. “So, it goes like this…” She waits moment, making sure she has Sable’s attention, and once she’s sure, she lifts up her left hand. It’s held in an awkward looking claw, fingers separate and palm open to Sable. “While ‘m glad you think its fancy LEDs and all…” She trails off, and there’s just silence for a moment before slowly but surely, Quinn’s hand starts to glow, light spilling out and around, filling the back of the van and rather quickly making it look like someone flipped on one of the fancy florescent light bulbs in the back of the van.

Oh, no way. Just… just no way. A photokinetic?

Sable gapes in what must appear as simple surprise at Quinn's revelation. In truth, there's quite a lot more going on, more jamming the gears in Sable's mind. Not so long ago, Sable decided that coincidence had to be respected as an expression of Fate. That brought her to one conclusion. Now, a new coincidence stares her in the face, and she has no idea what to do with it. She's dumbstruck for a uncharacteristic stretch of time.

"Holy shit," Sable says when she finally finds her voice, "You too?" Meaning ambiguous. She quickly amends, "I mean… me too. Not, like… that," she gestures at Quinn's hand, "But, yeah. I'm also, like… well. Like that." Way to make sense.

After a moment, the light in the back dims, the glow around Quinn’s hand focusing into a bright aura-esque glow. She doesn’t acknowledge Sable’s remarks at first, instead seeming to be locked in concentration – the reward of which is the sudden shifting of the innocuous white light to a bright red hue, making the back of the van resemble some sort of photo lab, were it not for the afternoon sun coming in through the windows. Eyes still closed, the light around her hand fades, though the light does not fade – it only displaces, and in a moment light concentrates and condenses, forming into a simple geometric square in the air before fading entirely. Exhaling heavily, Quinn opens her eyes and rubs the back of her neck.

“It takes a’lotta concentration to do both ‘those. Bleedin’ the light and shapin’ in.” She smiles, slowly making her way back to the front of the vehicle. “You’re evo too? ‘m a bit surprised, to be sure.” She feels it’s rude to ask someone what they do, so she doesn’t pose the question right off, instead forming a somewhat cocky grin. “I figure Magnes is too? Fella didn’t exactly leave much question in my mind between the rescue an’ carryin’ all that crap earlier.” That’s probably ruder, actually, but it’s too late now.

"Yup," Sable says, "'n' don't listen to what Magnes tells you 'bout what I can do. He's convinced its some kooky goddamn thing about, I dunno… reflexes or somethin'. But I know how it is. I'm a born musical goddamn mistress," she winks, "You made the right choice signin' on with me, hon." She reaches out and up, giving Quinn's hair a ruffle. "Guess we're all fuckin' mutants, huh? You the perfect damned light techn, Magnes the perfect roadie, and me," she waggles her brows, "The perfect maestro."

The climb back into her seat is… somehow more awkward than the climb out, and not without banging her forehead straight into the overhead lights. Oops. A few quiet curses slip out as she rubs it, settling back into the driver’s seat. “Quite the trio, sounds like. I’m sure we’ll have a corkin’ good time, though.” She still grins, for so many reason – the foremost reason being not only being able to tell someone about her lights, but being in company that understands, at least on some level. “Mistress of music, eh? Sounds like you got the best deal ‘f us all.”

"Hey, be careful, yer band property now!" Sable says, teasing through her concern for Quinn's poor head. She reaches out and pokes at Quinn's head, checking for damage. "'n' don't think it's easy bein' as brilliant as me, hon. All genius is tormented - that's a fuckin' rule."

Quinn chuckles at Sable’s concern, but winces as she pokes on the spot she just bumped. “Ah well, fair ‘nough, I suppose.” Starting the car, she is a bit surprised by the music that erupts from the console that the mp3 player is plugged into, looking to Sable with a raised eyebrow. “’m just glad you didn’t turn out to be of those… evophobics or what-have-you.”

"If I had been, hon," Sable says, reaching out to tap the underside of Quinn's chin, "You'd've turned my bigoted little head right around, made me see th' light. Pun much fuckin' intended."

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