Love and Rock'n Roll


delilah_icon.gif magnes_icon.gif quinn_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title Love and Rock'n Roll
Synopsis Loved ones convene as a musician finally gets her better arm back.
Date August 8, 2010

Gun Hill - Sable's Apartment

This room has slowly started to gather the detritus that makes it recognizable as a place of dwelling. Yes, there is still little in the way of furniture here. In fact, the only object that really qualifies is a big queen sized bed. It has sheets, but it is a constant battle to keep them from getting pulled up and tangled in the big down comforter.

The piles of clothes that once cluttered the floor have disappeared, pushed into the closet, opening up floorspace on either side of the bed. On the closet door is pinned a black and white poster of Jimi Hendrix exhaling a mouthful of cigarette smoke. He is just one of many such icons, forming a pantheon along with Beatles crossing Abbey Road, the Who, on stage and doing damage, a lazily posed Pink Floyd (post-Barret), and a shag-haired Joan Jett with a guitar slung over her shoulder.

Swooping between the posters are many swaths of brightly colored, patterned cloth pinned in drapings upon the walls. The impressions is chaotic but enthusiastic, like the combined work of a hippie, an ADHD child, and a crazy person. The last is true. The others… arguable. Clustered nearer to the bed, pinned to walls and ceiling, are pages cut from from old Playboy magazines, all from the 60's and 70's from the looks of it. Beauties from another era.

Other that than, there are only a few items that suggest the tenant's personality and interests: a computer (lacking a desk, it rests on the floor), a CD player, a pile of CDs, an amplifier and two guitars, one black electric, one blue acoustic-electric. These last, of all the (admittedly few) possessions in this place, look well cared for. Even the way they rest in the corner, arrayed with care, suggests something like love for them.

Today was the day. Odessa removed the splint, checked the healing, the state of the bruise, the weakness of the arm. In truth, Sable was already out of her splint, and out of her sling, but she is a performer to the last and she insists on being found with her arm still hanging in its protective cradle, ready to be thrown off (okay, gentle eased off) like a cripple after an encounter with the Son of Man. She'd gotten used to the sling, but now that she knows she doesn't have to wear it, the cloth suddenly feels itchy.

Sable holds court, is is her wont, at the foot of her bed, facing towards the door, the walls covered with colorful cloth and decades-old girly mag pics. Her legs are folded and her door is left ajar, open to supplicants, well wishers and fellow apostles. Pretty much to everyone. Though she tries to remain waitful and watchful, when she's not reaching into her sling to itch her arm, she is glancing over at her guitars which rest, longed-for, against one wall. Soon, my darlings, soon.

Magnes slips into Gun Hill occasionally. He may not be allowed to live there anymore, but he does try to visit. He has a glass cake dish in his hand, wearing an orange t-shirt with an Orange Lantern symbol on it, some blue jeans, and black sneakers. "I have pie." he announces, and by the looks of the pie, it has a crown of Oreos… Oreo pie!

Delilah lets Sable visit her often enough, though it is slightly less when Sable has her over there instead. Not so much rare as Sable probably doesn't want Dee to see the mess. She doesn't have pie, but being around for Sable to get her splint off is an event by itself. When she gets there, it's just a few minutes after Magnes. She's been all about the flowery dresses lately, and today is no exception; she lets herself into the apartment, confident enough that she's welcome.

"What's this I hear about splints'n'arms?" Not quite 'I have pie', no..

Well, let's be frank - Sable's place is very Sable, and that means it's kind of a hole. Plus, with Sable subliming like crazy, trying to get out her guitar urges by helping Dee with her guitar work, it really just made more sense for Sable to visit Dee. Plus it felt right in Sable's mind - she remains true to the spirit of the courtier, the supplicant, the swain. She'd feel sort of guilty making Delilah come all the way out to the Bronx, particularly if she had to haul her guitar all the way. Who would be so ungallante as to send summons to a pregnant girl, anyhow?

But this is a special occasion and as Magnes appears, Sable lifts her chin imperiously, smirking as she surveys him from… actually, the bed doesn't give her any height advantage at all. Oh well. We can't have everything, can we? "Th' Sage finds yer offerin' pleasing. Set it before her," she says, with a magisterial wave of her left hand. The right still stays in its sling.

That is, it does until Delilah arrives. Sable cracks a wide grin at Dee's question. "Never heard 'f 'em!" she exclaims, and lifts her right arm (which I guess she's never heard of arms, is what her reply entails, oh well) out of its sling and wiggles her fingers in a wave.

Magnes goes down to one knee, and sits the cake dish in the air in front of Sable; gravity trickery. He lifts the dish, and nods his head toward it. "You don't even have to use a fork." Then Delilah comes, and his face lights up, immediately heading over to her to drape an arm around her shoulder, and move a hand down to gently rub her stomach. Teo's baby… after that email, there's so much to consider now.

"Hey!" Delilah says sharply, breathing into a laugh. "You did get it off. For a second there I thought you had to wait more." That is frightening. Sable may have exploded. She makes her way in, closing the door back. "I suppose I'll have to make sure you don't too rambunctious too soon, huh?" She leans over to give Magnes a one-armed hug, smiling at the pair of them.

"If you stay there long enough, he'll kick, you know. You'd think he's fightin' bloody dragons in there or something…"

The offering is received in both hands, both now being at her service once more. Really the event should be inaugurated by the performance of some much more rock and roll action, like shredding, or the 'windmill', but Sable is under strict orders to let her neglected arm build its strength before putting it to serious use, and if she's let near a guitar she isn't sure she can control herself. But she will not be losing use of her arm again. Not to some damn fool impatience at least, not after so long. She sniffs the pie, and deems it worthy.

"Y' got my knife, boy?" Sable inquires of Magnes, "Wanna slice y'all a piece. Dee gets extra. Mebbe Saint George'll settle down if he gets a share, eh?"

"Oh yeah, I've got the knife. And babies kicking is still so surreal…" Magnes leans in to peck Delilah on the cheek, then releases her and heads over to Sable, digging into his back pocket to pull out the folded knife. "How's this? I thought it was nice and compact."

The sounds of someone approaching down the hallway are rather well telegraphed even to someone not paying that much attention, the sound of sandals slapping against the floor as they rush up stairs and down the hall more than audible, and in a sudden moment, Quinn is at Sable's door, peering in excitedly, dressed in a long green skirt and blue t-shirt, several plastic bags hanging from her arm.

"Jesus, I don't see you for a feckin' week, an' the next thing I know your cast's comin' off?" she practically shouts from the door, taking a moment to register Magnes and Delilah's presence, laughing and waving once she does. "Hey guys! Sorry t' just… bust in, but I got Sable's text an' had t'!"

"I doubt that. Irish-Sicilian, come on. It'll take more than cookie pie for that. But I'll have some anyway." Delilah knows that much already and he's not going to be out for months. Sometimes you just know things. Moms moreso. She pats herself a bit to perhaps clarify. This is about the same time Quinn literally drops in, covered in bags. Dee laughs immediately. "You're noisier than a cow in an elevator."

"That," Sable says, peering at Delilah, "Is an expression I've never heard. 'n' a thing I've never heard, neither. What elevator c'n even fit a cow? Not one I've been in…" But really, this is not a terribly productive line of thought, and Quinn's arrival, however noisy, is of greater import. Sable sets the pie to one side and slides down to her feet, padding over and using both arms to hug each visitor in order of their arrival. Magnes, then a light bongo drumroll to Dee's tummy since Walter does precede her, then a hug for Delilah as well as a smooch on the cheek, then one for Quinn, Sable carefully navigating the plastic bags. "Don't ask me t' carry any 'f that," she says, smirking at the latest arrival, "Gotta take it easy, build m' arm back up t' full strength." She then moves over to take the knife. Eyes narrow, then widen, as she turns it over in her fingers.

"Holy shit," she states, "This is th' one. Th' one I saw."

"It is? Weird." Magnes has inspected and tested the knife himself, and quite frankly didn't think there was anything particularly special about it. "I really hate premonitions, especially when I find out how I could go down that path." He's never spoken about his flash, other than to Sable and Elaine, and walks over to take a seat on Sable's bed. "Hey, Quinn."

The hug and the kiss on the cheek from Sable are welcome happily, Quinn beaming as she steps into the apartment. A nod of acknowledgement is given to Magnes, a small wave to Delilah. "Nice t' see you guys again. Been too feckin' long since I saw any a' you for more than a moment or two. Everyone's been so feckin' busy this week, it's just been me an' Elaine slummin' it!" She laughs, setting her bags off to the side. "Didn't mean t' bring all my shit with me. I've been down at my place for, like, the last hour tending t' something that you all have got t' come down an' see later. But for now…" Quinn unfolds the flap of her messanger bag, pulling out something large - and when held out, is reveald to be the slip case for a vinyl album. Joan Jett & The Blackheart's I Love Rock'n'Roll, specifically.

"I picked this up on the way home for y', to celebrate. Thought you might like it. A CD or two too," she remarks, motioning over to the bags she's set down. "So, what are you guys up t'?"

Fetus Walter replies with a glub to the noise on the outside of his tiny world.

Delilah nuzzles a small kiss back into Sable's cheek when she offers her own. "What's up with the knife?" She asks up-front, taking a seat down beside Magnes and putting her feet out in front of her, heels on carpet and toes up. Ah, that's better. Flat shoes have been helping, but converses and flats can only do so much for her walking. The Brit looks over as Quinn reveals the album case. Ooh. "Magnes brought pie, I don't know much more than that."

Sable flicks the knife open, testing the blade against her arm, shaving a small patch of skin clear of hair and then blowing the flat clear. "I had this knife when I saw what's yet t' come," she says, answering Delilah, "It's comin' t' pass." She flicks the knife closed. "I'm choosin' t' embrace my way," she states, "Knowin' some good may come 'f it. Y'r fate's yer own boy. It wouldn't've been shown t' you if it didn't matter, dig? That's how it always works." In stories at least, but what else does one have to navigate by? Reason? PSHAW!

She is about to start cutting up and doling out pie but then Quinn pulls out a thing of beauty, a rock anthem in vinyl from the patron saint of all renegade chick rockers and self-made stars - Saint Joan of Jett. Sable gapes, then lights up, springing over, lifting the record into both hands and bearing it aloft, gazing up. "Holy. Shit," she says, grinning to bet all. She looks down at Quinn. "Don't got anythin' t' play it on. Shit… we should go t' yer place. Can we got t' yer place? I'll even take a bag. Just one." She flashes a grin at Delilah. "Yer in charge 'f carryin' th' pie, darlin'."

"I don't like difficult choices. Is it so much to ask to spend the rest of my days playing piano, bass, and shacking up with a redhead and her lesbian friends?" Magnes shrugs, then stands up and heads after Sable. "We could go to some antique stores and look for record players, y'know."

"I didn't think you did," Quinn remarks with a very telling smirk, one that says I've got it covered. But she raises a hand and waves it dismissively, even as others seem to be gettin' ready to go. "Oh, no! I don't want t' pull everyone away, it's not fair. We can go down in a bit, unless you really want t' listen now. She smiles at Sable as she revels in the record, looking just pleased as punch.

"Pie? What kinda' pie?" She next asks to whoever will answer, turning over to Delilah. "How's the last week been treatin' you?" she asks with a nod, and a glance over to Magnes. "Go look in those bags, Magnes. I, um… I followed up on the recommendations you gave me when I was over the other day, an' I wanna make sure Kendall gave me the right stuff."

"Hell yeah I wanna listen now!" Sable exclaims, tucking the record under the newly reclaimed arm. She points to the Oreo pie on the bed. "That pie, hon. Snag it. Y'r second 'n' third piece are reserved, by my fuckin' decree." She sidles towards the door and pushes it full open with a foot, reaching out to snag one of Quinn's bags.

"It's Oreo pie, I made it." Magnes stands up and heads over so he can crouch down to his knees, then hunch over and dig through the bags. "Whoa, every Scott Pilgrim book, and these are some good Green Lanterns to start with. I guess you could always get into Blackest night later." He's looking at the cover of each book, seemingly amazed by one thing after the other. "Can't believe you actually got them."

"You overestimate my ability to get around." Delilah pipes up quite loudly, still sitting on the bed. "If she lives upstairs or something that's all good, but-" You can't really be dragging her around anyway. "Oreo pie. I'm fine, got a new phone to replace the one they took, too-" She rifles down to her hip through her dress, slipping it out of a pocket in her dark leggings. It's a sort of gunmetal gray phone, slate-shaped. I feel like Hana when I get new things, but I don't think she'd put these on hers-" Delilah flips over the phone and shows off a sparkling pattern on the back, IE stickers of flowers.

Quinn laughs as she lays eyes on the pie, shaking her head. "Lord, I think I have enough Oreo pie in my freezer." Turning to Dee, she frowns. "I can go get my player an' bring up here if you'd rather not make your way down t' my place." She eyes Delilah's belly for a moment, smirking. "I've never really hung uot with anyone who was pregnant before, so I'm… not exactly used t' having t' make compromises. Sorry." She wrinkles her nose, looking at the phone with a chuckle. "Cute! Dunno who Hana is, but I guess she's not one for stuff like that?"

A turn to Magnes, makigg her way over to the bags with a curious look on her face. "Really? Why? I mean, y' seemed so sure I'd like 'em, so, I mean… why not?" She shrugs, cuckling. "Besides, I spent, like, $600 today. That $100 in there didn't seem like much to it." A glance back at Delilah. "Makes me really glad they didn't get t' my checks the other day."

Sable quirks her lips, hanging at the edge of the door. She hops to one side, a foot still propping it open. "Go forth, Quinn. Magnes, you go with 'er t' help her carry th' player," she casts a look at Delilah, "I'll keep her majesty company in fine royal style while you mistral types snag what we need for music. Want t' get a word with you in anyhow, darlin'," this said to Dee, "Need t' check somethin' b'fore I speak t' the band in general, since we're all, like, here, 'n' more or less in possession 'f our relevant fuckin' limbs f'r the first time in an age."

A record player can't be too much trouble, right? Delilah feels bad about saying something, but it is probably fine that she did. It's only going to be more complicated later. She smiles a thank you to the three of them, patting the bed beside her when Sable says that she wants to get a word in. "I'm all ears, babe. Love to hear what's on your mind."

Quinn smiles, nodding. "I don't really need Magnes' help, but he's hapy t' come so long as he stays outta my music room. Take a gander in the bag you got there, Sable. Part of its contents are for you." With that, Quinn disappears into the hallway, motioning for Magnes to follow her if he so chooses. She sprints, not wanting to waste time - and nearly tripping as she exits the room. Or maybe that thud was her tripping. Either way, a moment later she's loudly clodding her way through the hall.

"Innit she just fuckin' adorable?" Sable says, grinning as Quinn galumphs audibly even when out of view, "Awful taste in chicks, though." Which is a crack she feels okay with making because it's as much an aspersion against herself as it is against the G.B.B. The yellow eyed girl moves over to sit next to Dee, hopping onto the bed and slipping an arm around her. Her left arm. She's being wise. Being prudent. She's got only so much prudence to spend, but she'll spend it here. "I wanna know if mebbe y' wanna feature on a track 'f mine," she says, "Nothin' complicated. Some power chords, maybe, basic rhythm stuff. Just a guest sorta thing. Wouldja wanna? Quinngirl surprised me all with Elaine's playing fiddle, and I figured… good fuckin' idea."

Like she said earlier- hang around down there long enough and you might feel epic battles going on. Same goes for Sable if she's going to get close. Delilah lifts her hands to take Sable's right wrist, gentle and inspecting of the limb. "Feature? Oh- well. That's flattering. I'd love to, if you'll have me. You going to get Elaine in on it then too? I think some of the songs I like might be served by a violinist, actually. Like the one I did at the open night?"

Her arm looks okay. A little paler than the other, having been shielded from the sun's rays, but Sable has always managed to stay oddly pale, despite her lack of goth proclivities. She's all about life. She looks down at the epic of epic epicness that is going on behind Dee's inflated tummy. "Jesus. He's just gonna climb right th' fuck outta y', huh?" she grins, "yer gonna have t' lay down the law a bit. I'll lead him down a reckless road given half th' fuckin' chance. Bet y'll want him t' stay in school 'n' shit," she snorts, "like school every did anyone any good." Like keeping you off the streets, say? "'n' 'f course I'll have y'. Y' don't never have t' ask, never, f'r any use 'f th' term in any sorta way," she beams, "I was real fuckin' proud. Fact, y' inspired me. Think I'm gonna want t' do a harder rock cover 'f this alt. country song y' reminded me of, singin' 'f eyes 'n' all that. One 'f my favorites. Love t' have y' take th' the acoustic chords on that 'n'."

"I half expect an alien to come popping out sometimes. I hope he settles down a little or it's gonna be an uncomfortable couple of months. Of course he'll stay in school. I have yet to figure out what kind of school. But I have time for that, yet." Delilah snickers, her arm inspection apparently satisfactory. "He is probably predisposed to being a rascal though. You'll have a good time of it, I'm sure. I'd love to do the acoustics for it. Is it any song I might know about? I have mixed tastes enough, maybe I've heard it.

Just like before, Quinn can be heard plodding up the stairs and back towards Sable's apartment, albeit much slower than before. When she finally does reappear in the door way of Sable's room, she has a big brown cardboard box cradled awkwardly in her arms. Set down on the floor, a small, similar brown, though wooden device is pulled up and out.

"I saw this on sale at the same place I got the record," Quinn states, hoding it out. "It's a CD player/radio/turntable. CD slot an' dials in the front, the top opens up. It's rather nifty, an' I figured it'd go well with the record - I don't even have somethin' this nice, I'm amazed it was as cheap as it was. Where do you want me t' put it?"

Magnes is still looking into that bag when they return, looking over at Quinn every now and then. "I still don't understand DJ equipment too well, but it's all pretty cool. You should teach me some time, I only know a little about music production."

Sable swivels at her waist as Quinn gets in, and then sets a quick kiss on Delilah's cheek before sliding off the bed and padding over to Quinn, offering her a hand (or TWO! Ha HA!) with the player. Hopefully Magnes made this extra light, if no less bulky. What's he good for anyways? Other than the occasional evil bastard beheading or pizza. "I'll play it f'r y' sometime," she says to Delilah, over her shoulder, as she guides Quinn and their cargo over next to the computer Magnes got her, which is on, but the monitor's switched off, "It's called 'Big Brown Eyes'. By th' Old 97's, one 'f th' only country bands out there with real country spirit, but a good rock t' them." And one of the few contemporary bands she gets excited about, too.

"Your lucky day, innit?" Delilah chimes, finally picking up the pie to find a flat surface to put it onto. "Put on some Joan and we'll have some pie. I haven't heard it. Gimme a listen later, we can sort something out if you show me the chords."

Quinn, with Sable's help, finds counter to slip the player up on to, find a plug for it. "This'll do for now." Hands find her hips as she turns back out to everyone. "It's not DJ equipment, Magnes. Just a neat little thing I saw at the record store. An' I don't know that much about production. Buuuuut, that's part of a surprise I have for you an' Sable later." She nods, glancing over to Sable. "There's a Runaways album an' Ann Wilson's solo album. Thought they went thematically with the rest, even if not on, like, real records." Quinn shrugs, looking to Dee and the pie. "Delilah, I think that pie sounds delicious right now."

Sable snags the record from the bedside and gently, reverently, slides the vinyl out of its sleeve. Sacramental. Reliquarian. Santified. She offers it to Quinn. "Get us spinnin', DJ Ravenfall," she says, grinning, and then moves over to lean next to Delilah, overseeing the cutting of the pie. "Quinngirl, yer a regular goddamn wonder. Magnes, how's it we get t' chill with such rad fuckin' ladies? Two jackasses like us, eh?" she grins, "It ain't fair. I love it."

Delilah is busy slicing up the pie with whatever sort of knife she can find; she peers over past her arm as Sable leeeaans in. "You could get some plates and spoons, you know." She suggests, in a hushed tone like she can implant it in Sable rather than tell her. "You get to chill with us because we choose you. We're like pegasus." Plural.

"She's right," Quinn remarks with a grin as she sets the needle down on the record, going straight to the album's title track, or at least approximating. Nothing like the crackle of a turntable come to life - few things sound as truly pleasing to Quinn's ears. "Even if it wasn't me who found you guys, I wouldn't be here if I hadn't chosen you guys. Best buncha friends I've had in years, Elaine too." A glance over to Dee, and a smirk. "An' I'm hopin' the same with you, Delilah. You guys are great."

I saw him dancing there by the record machine,

Knew he must have been about seventeen

The beat was going strong, he was playin my favorite song

I could tell it wouldn't be long 'till he was with me

(Yeah me)

I could tell it wouldn't be long 'till he was with me

(Yeah me)


The rough and ready voice of Joan Jett growls from the speakers and Sable is just distracted enough for Delilah's words to become her thoughts, very briefly. "Gonna get some forks 'n' all," she says, "Got a stockpile 'f paper 'n' plastic. I uh…" she glances at Delilah, "Y' get 'em free at restaurants and stuff…" She defines this as 'not really stealing'.

I love rock'n roll

So put another dime in the jukebox baby

I love rock'n roll

So come and take the time and dance with me

After the stockpile of plundered cutlery is delved into, and pie is passed 'round, Sable affirms Quinn's glowing statement. "Never once b'fore really wanted t' stay put. Always headin' somewhere, foot out the door. Not here. First time in m' life. Fuck y'all f'r killin' my wanderlust," she grins, "Fuck y'all f'r makin' me love you so."

"I'm gonna eat now, b'fore I start writin' soft rock songs. Jesus…"

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