Participants:
| Scene Title | Not Novelty Acts |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Lesbian poetry, a preview of a new book, a first time performance, an intricate new song, and a touching tribute are all shared at one open mic night. |
| Date | January 22, 2011 |
New Lunacy
A random cafe-bar
With martial law and curfews in effect, most of the Big Apple's nightlife is withering on the branch. To drive in more people and keep their businesses afloat, bars and clubs are doing earlier hours, specials, whatever they can to put butts on barstools. Even artsy little fusion/jazz/whateverthetrend cafe-bars like New Lunacy have had to shake things up. So for the first time, no live house band tonight. It'll be an Open Mic Night, or more precisely an open mic afternoon.
The advantage is they don't have to pay a house band, and that is welcome. Already a bit of the polish is coming off the long, sweeping chrome bar and mirrored backstop. The retro-tech glass walls that make up the booths could use a little cleaning, and some of the alcohol and foods stocks are lacking. At least there is a crowd though, a light one, but better than last week. Must be the novelty of the acts.
Just now about to leave the stage is the first 'performer', some student from NYU if the sweatshirt is an indicator. Her neo-modernist twist on Dadist poetry with a lesbian fixation had been….entertaining. Anyone else who signed up with be called by the number on their ticket in whatever random order they are pulled. They'll have to climb the carpeted stage, plug in their instruments, rock the mic, or just pontificate for a few minutes. Their reward? The accolade of their peers and a ticket for a well drink(assuming they are of age).
Usually Savannah doesn't participate in these things. She views it as cheating, in a way, taking away from the spotlight of some others who usually don't get it. Even from the spotlight of those who really, really shouldn't be out in light at all. As the blonde author slips in, she slips her name onto the sign up sheet, moving to take a seat out of the way. She had a bit of a plan.
Evan is already settled in, and nods vaguely to Savannah as she sits down nearby. He hasn't been a participant, either - it takes a sort of right-brain-ness that he really doesn't feel - but he's attended a few of them, and knows some of the performers. Didn't he see the NYU dadaist at a protest back around September? She has the same hair color, at least, though it's hard to tell with her shirt on.
This certainly isn't Quinn's first open mic night, not by a long shot. But it's been months since she did one, and that last one… it didn't go so well. So, it's the new year, which means it’s time to start again as far as these things go. She's come tonight prepared with her keyboard, resting against the wall behind her as she sits, leaning back with her feet propped up on the table she sits at. You know, until someone yells at her. She doesn't notice the famous author (who's books she's had to shill so many times enter - she's too busy giving the woman leaving the stage an appraising eye. Not that she'll actually do anything about it, but…
Having never done an open mic night, Brand's body is fraught with nerves. He's already signed up for his random slot at least half an hour ago, and now he frets at a table. A soda fizzes, untouched, by his elbow. His attention is fixated on a slightly beat up Statrocaster Plus stretched across his lap. He tunes it, then retunes again. He fiddles with the settings, and nervously sorts through picks. Obviously almost ready to swallow his heart.
The MC for the event, a petite and soft-spoken woman of indeterminate age (is she in her twenties? late teens? hard to tell!) proceeds to the small stage with her clipboard. "Uh, okay, lets see here… next up, we have, uh, someone named… Brand? Doing… a song?" She squints at the clipboard, clearly needing glasses. "Lets have a round of applause!"
A song! Quinn can't help but clap as a fellow musician makes his way up on stage, grinning all the while. He looks vaguely familiar, but she can't really palce it - but she's learned in the last year that New York is a much smaller place than she ever realised, so she's not really that surprised. A look is glanced over at NYU girl as she sits, only briefly, before returning back ot the stage.
Brand huffs, and almost hyperventilates fir a moment there when his name is called. He stands up, fists clenching tightly before he takes a deep breath. Seeming a little more relaxed, he hefts his guitar and climbs to the stage. He hooks up his guitar - thankfully all the right hookups are there so it takes no time at all - and pulls the mike to the right height. "Uh, hi there." He speaks a bit unsurely, strumming to test the levels. "My name is Brand, and uh, I don't have a band name or anything. I wrote this song though. I hope that you guys will like it." He coughs, to clear his throat. "Oh, and its called 'Nobody Sees Me(But the Man with the Gun)." Then he does start to play, and to sing. His song and playing style are both relics, heavily influenced by the very old days of rock. Buddy Holly, CCR, Pink Floyd, The Stones and the Velvet Underground are influences from which he draws. His playing is best described as competent, his singing similar. The lyrics are a bit unsubtle, but they fit. Its kind of a ballad, really, about being isolated and unable to get help. About being pursued by authoritarian forces. Considering the martial law in the streets, it seems appropriate.
The petite MC claps loudly (almost a bit too loudly) as she listens. The sentiment seems to get through to her, and for a moment she seems to forget that she's supposed to go up on stage. Flustered, she makes her way back up, still clapping. "Let's hear it for Brand. That was a fantastic song." Indeed, she does seem impressed, giving him a smile before she looks back to her clipboard in hand. "Um, let’s see," she squints. "Next up we have…" She squints again, as if unsure. "Uh, Savannah Burton, reading some prose she's written?" The dark haired woman looks a little surprised. She almost forgets to clap as she steps off the stage.
Quinn claps for the song, smiling as the song comes to an end. "Bravo!" she shouts, entirely enthusiastically for Brand - but it's when she hears the name of the next performer that her attention is torn away from both Brand and the NYU girl, blinking several times as she watches the stage. It can't be the same Savannah Burton, right? People would be reacting more if so, right?"
Brand almost drops his pick when he's done, his hand trembling slightly. He takes a little bow, and then sidesteps to get out of the MC's way. Seeing that his time on the stage is over, he unplugs his gear and climbs down to the little steps. He hurries to his booth again, to put his Strat back in its case. He's smiling though. At least a little bit. To preoccupied with having just performed to really pay attention to the next person going up.
Making her way up onto the stage, notebook in hand, Savannah offers a friendly smile in the direction of the cafe patrons. "Hi, everyone… like our MC said, I'm Savannah Burton. I wrote the Amplified series. I normally wouldn't steal the mic from anyone, but it's cold out and I thought I'd see what people thought of some of the new stuff I've been working on. Just don't tell my publisher!" She laughs, flipping open the notebook. "I don't have a title yet, so… yeah. You'll just have to deal." She clears her throat, then begins reading.
"Hailey's heart fluttered in her chest. The sounds of the world around her sounded hollow, a dull ring in the back of her mind as her eyes filled with the vibrant colors of places around her. It was Paris, though the colors seemed sharper and clearer, as if everything was in high definition. There was something in front of her, a warm beverage steaming in the slightly chilled air, but the wind brought the smell of fresh baked bread. Everything was heightened, as if she could be aware of every detail. Still, something hollow rang in the back of her head. It was a voice.
"'Hailey! Hailey!' It was Austin's voice, but it sounded distant. Hailey blinked, her vision fuzzy as the back alley in Queens came back into view. She shook her head, trying to clear her senses, the world feeling numb around her as she came back. 'Hailey, what the hell is going on? Now is not the time to turn into some kind of space case. We need to move. Now! I hear something!' Austin tugged on her jacket sleeve and numbly stumbled after him. The spray of gunfire just behind them brought her senses clearly back to her surroundings. 'There they are!' A voice muffled behind a thick helmet sounded almost distant and mechanical, metal and cold. This time, the hail of gunfire struck true, and Hailey felt a sharp pain as her ankle gave way under her."
Savannah smiles again, closing her notebook as she glances back towards the audience.
There's a round of applause from Evan's corner as well as Brand finishes up his mini-set. Savannah's reading gets a more hesitant response: not because he looks less than impressed, but because NYU Girl gets a reaction in ahead of him. "Oh my God, I was in Paris last summer! Was she stalking me or something?" Ooooookay, not the most heavyweight of intellects here.
Quinn came with company tonight, though since hanging her coat on the back of a chair and lodging her guitar under Quinn's, Delilah has been conspicuously absent. Walter had been making a bit of a fuss, so she slipped off to occupy one of the two restroom stalls for feeding's sake. It boggled her really, as she fed him just before they left. Alas, maybe today is just one of those days. When Delilah sits herself back down in the chair beside Quinn, she is looking a bit less harried and Walter far more content. Maybe he was fussing because of the low cut of her shirt- the idea of being a breastmilk tease is completely alien, isn't it? Think about it.
She is there for the latter half of Savannah's reading, Walter up on her shoulder peeking over at the next table from behind Dee's hair. "Hey, Quinn, what number did you have?" It is a hushed question, as the reading finishes and people with free hands clap together.
"Number, uh… now. I think." She's mostly staring at the stage in surprise, not even looking over at Delilah. "Holy shit, I can't even believe that Savannah Burton is on stage, readin' t' us." She smiles, looking back over at Dee, then down at Walter, offering him a finger to grasp on to. "I haven't decided what I'm going t' play yet. I think somethin' I've been workin' on, though."
Brand finally finishes getting his guitar packed up into its black case. The case is in worse shape than his battered but functional Stratocaster Plus, probably because it’s been taking the fall for the instrument. He now takes the tip to sip on his soda, casting his eyes toward..the infant? Who would bring a baby here? Then the guitar- he's curious about who else is playing and what they are playing.
Savannah smiles at the applause, securing the strap on her notebook as she makes her way back into the crowd. She heads over and orders a drink, soon returning to her table with a mai tai, glancing towards the stage as she waits for the next person.
The MC returns to the stage, still looking a little star-struck as she smiles to the retreating Savannah. She claps, then clears her throat as she moves on. "Yes, um, thank you Miss Burton… next up we have… Robyn Quinn, and she's going to be doing a song. Let's hear it for Robyn!"
By the time Savannah returns, Evan has gotten a drink for himself - Dr Pepper and 80 proof something-or-other, judging from the scent - but sets it down long enough to glance over toward Quinn and Delilah's table. "I've heard of it happening occasionally. Last time it was Mike Myers and The Love Guru, so… hope it turns out better than that did." Meanwhile, Hailey has flounced off in a huff, not bothering to stick around to discuss her latest conspiracy theory with present company.
Number now? Oh. Delilah laughs, and nods once. "I missed most of it, was trying to listen from behind the wall." Walter is still peering over Dee's shoulder- and probably towards Brand at some point, gaze equally inquisitive for everyone. He grips her hand as babies who can't let go do, fingers tight and fist balling when she pulls away again. "Good luck. Let's watch auntie Quinn now, hm?" Delilah gently turns the baby around, though his attention looks to be more on the light fixtures or the table closeby with gum on the underside and a shiny napkin holder on top.
"Eh, I think there's a few other people t' go. You really only missed some lesbian poetry and a pretty good song. At least you get t' see a famous author an' a soon t' be star, right?" Quinn grins at Dee, poking her finger at Walter's nose as she stands up, grabbing her keyboard and another bag at her feet, dragging them up and on to the stage. She taps the mic, as people always do for reasons no one is ever sure of it - it was just on after all, it's not like it magically turned off! "I need a minute t' set up, sorry!" she announces, smiling weakly at the MC. It won't take long, she promises!
Brand wriggles his fingers at the baby when it stares at him. He's not hateful towards children or anything. He watches Quinn head for the stage, and scoots a bit closer to the table she just left. "So, uh, your friend liked my song. Thats nice to know. She's your sister?" Brand is not the very best at striking up conversations with strange women in cafe/bars, but with his recent success at music he might be feeling emboldened.
The MC doesn't seem too peeved, offering Quinn a friendly smile as she stands off to the side, waiting. She prompts a round of applause to greet Quinn on the stage, as well as using that to keep the audience occupied while the Irishwoman sets up.
Savannah sips her mai tai, glancing over towards Quinn as she heads up onto the stage, then her eyes float over towards the table Quinn formerly occupied. OH! There's a baby. The blonde author instantly smiles, glancing between baby and mother.
While Quinn preps and the others coo over Walter, Evan takes the opportunity to return his attention to his drink. It's on the sharp side, but with the sort of week he's had so far, sharp works just fine for him. At Brand's question, he raises a brow - that wasn't how he read the body language - but keeps quiet about it. It's far from a certain thing, anyway.
Delilah lifts her chin to look over her shoulder, turning slightly towards the young man when he scoots over. She smiles, but shakes her head. "Oh, no, not my sister. Just a good friend that asked if I needed something to do." There's nothing else too it, really. Walter turns his head a bit, making some noise in an effort to see who is there. If Dee sees miss Burton in the side of her vision, smiling at them, she doesn't say so. Chances are she does.
Brand offers his hand to Delilah, if she wants to shake it. He's got big hands for a kid, and big beefy forearms. Like a teenaged tank. "My name's Brand." When he sees how interested Walter is, he offers his hand to the infant, allowing his to grip on his fingers if the kid wants too. "Not like a band name or anything. Thats my real name." He shuffles his weight to one side, glancing up at the stage. "I think your friend if about to play, actually."
With a little extra time to kill, Evan pulls his chair over closer and waves to Walter. Everybody loves a little kiddo. "I was wondering about that earlier," he replies to Brand. "It could be a band name, has some possibilities to it." Or maybe he prefers to keep it a solo act, who knows.
Dee has to reach past her arm to shake his hand, but she is willing. Walter lifts his fist when Brand offers a finger, but he isn't quite at the stage where he can grip on his own. "I'm Delilah, this is Walter." Very British and all, imagine that. The baby has taken to simply butting at the fingers with his arm now, determined to somehow make this work. Delilah smirks over at Evan when he offers some creative input. "He's right, you know. You could spin that."
While the others have been talking quietly, Quinn’s been setting up just as indicated – it’s actually far less complex than she made it sound, just a matter of getting it all plugged in and situated. Sitting in front of her is her KORG keyboard, a string of LED lights fastened across the front, facing out towards the audience. They burn brightly, but certainly not enough to provide much more than the set of tables just in front of the stage with any meaningful amount of light. Attached to the side of the keyboard – entirely jury-rigged from the looks of it – is a silvery device that when plugged in just fills with red lights, if only for a moment, the other end of the keyboard situated with a more normally attached, mundane looking soundboard. And of course, rising up from the front of the keyboard rests a microphone, which once plugged in properly, Quinn leans up to and smiles.
“Sorry about the delay,” she comments apologetically, the lights on the front brightening noticeably for a moment. “This is all probably a bit much for this, but it’s the first time I’m playin’ this song, an’ I didn’t really- want t’ half ass it. So, I hope everyone likes it as much as I do.”
And with that, she turns her attention to the attached device, finding a button and pressing down, before running her finger down, producing a visible red line of light from the back of the tenori-on for the crowd to see, the lights on the front of her keyboard dimming as it produces a repetitive bass line, and a flick at the soundboard creates a staticy overlay. A few keystrokes produce a sound like a traditional piano, letting the three sounds mingle a bit before she hits a button on the keyboard, the sound of the keys abruptly turning to a more complex electronic sound, keyboard playing accompanying the droning, repetitive bass line rather well, continuing for another good bit before she finally leans forward and starts to sing.
Left all alone
Out in the sun
Reflect, deflect
Out of this world
The things we say sometimes
Left all alone
Nowhere t’ go
Inside, Outside
Out of this world
The things we do sometimes
Make me feel so guilty, guilty
Why do we do this to ourselves?
Everything stuck on repeat, repeat
Why do we do this to ourselves?
With the end of that chorus comes an interlude, followed by another verse-verse-chorus section, before building into Quinn abandoning the keyboard entirely in favour of messing with the tenori-on, still singing the chorus as she produces sounds from it, an interesting array joining the sound of the bass, from keys, guitar, and sounds plucked from other normal instruments to various synth parts, lights flaring and changing colours from the front of her keyboard the entire time, until finally, abruptly, but the lights go dark and the sound just stops, Quinn stepping back and bowing.
Brand shakes Delilah's hand, and ever offers it to Evan to shake. "Nice to meet you, Delilah. Walter." He doesn't seem to mind the kid nudging at him. "Uh, thanks, guy." He peers at Evan, perhaps waiting an introduction. "Spin it, huh. Like, I don't know…" He frowns, darkly. "Red hot Brand, The Brand, Brand of Heroes, something like that you mean?" He snorts. "Like I'm good enough to have a band…"
Savannah claps for Quinn's performance, leaning forward a bit as she sips her mai tai. The petite MC's eyes widen at the show. Clearly, this was the day to go to work. Best night ever. She claps loudly before glancing at her clip board. "Oh, it looks like we may have one more…" She peers, squinting for the final time at the clipboard. "Uh, it looks like we have someone named Delilah also doing a song?"
Evan merely shrugs at Brand's questions. He just recognizes that there might be an idea somewhere in the neighborhood— actually coming up with it is another matter. Once Quinn finishes up, he joins in the applause once more, and looks around to see who's up next. Nice variety this evening; some nights it's all poetry slams, which is right up Hailey's alley but a bit much for his taste.
It takes a much shorter amount of time for Quinn to dismantle her things and get them back packed up - deconstruction is much easier than rebuilding, after all. But with that done, she bows and starts back down the stage to where Delilah sits, now that her name's been called. Her stuff is placed down and Brand regarded with a smile as Quinn reaches down towards Walter. "Give 'em t' me. You go up there an' wow 'em, okay?" Quinn comments amicably. "Walter'll be safe with me. I think I'll introduce him to a famous author."
Delilah doesn't say anything to Brand again until she has a second, while Quinn is just starting. "If she can do it, you can." Meanwhile, Walter is having the time of his little life, cradled in her lap and watching the lights flashing across the ceiling and people. Best. Day. Ever. Delilah claps as best she can, considering the baby, and he seems to like the music and show too, because he is giggling by the time it ends. She is lucky that he likes the modern indie keyboarding. Or it coulda been the lights. Probably the lights, moreso.
When Quinn gets back, Dee lets her intercept control of Walter once she puts her things down. "Get his forehead autographed or something." It's hard to tell if she is serious, because that is all she says before toting her own guitar up to the stage. Last time she was at an open night, she was roughly the size of a watermelon. It's better to be up there without a live fetus, for sure. There is a bit of adjusting done, things plugged in.
"Hello, everyone! I'm Delilah, and this is maybe my third time at something like this, please bear with me. I wanted to do a song by a good friend of mine. Sadly, she is no longer with us. Else Kjelstrom was like a little sister to me, even if she was a dozen years older." A pale laugh. "We looked after one another, and I helped her dump her habits. She was about to start playing again when she was …murdered. Before she died, she made a disc for me and my son-"
Delilah points, over her white guitar with the sparkly red heart- to Quinn, and Walter. "And there was one non-cover on it. She wrote it for him, and I'm going to share it with you." And, she is not pushing any buttons here, because she starts the mellow first chords just a few seconds later, starting into the song.
Oh, my baby if you're crying
Rest your head on me
You have angels standin' round your bedside
You have angels watching out for you
Oh, my baby if you're wanderin'
Lay your secrets out for me
I have love that's overflowin'
I have nothin' but faith in you
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Child when the wasteland is a'callin
You'll have angels with you to lead the way
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Child when your life don't seem so easy
You'll have me to hold you in my arms
Oh, my baby when you're fightin'
Lean yourself down on me
I will be that strength you need to keep on goin'
I will be that hope to lift you up again
Oh, my baby if you're watching
Know I meant the best for you
We have shadows in our pasts
We have shadows leadin' us all astray
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Child, when the road just seems too long
Then the end ain't that much further away
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Child, when the future seems too painful
Come back home and I'll hold you in my arms
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Worry not my darlin'
Worry not my son
Child, when all else is taken away
Remember me and I will show you the way home…
It's the story behind the song that touches Savannah the most. It's a beautiful song to be sure, but hey—we're talking about an author here. Of course she's going to fall for the story. She listens intently before she gives a round of applause, looking from Dee over to Walter. Yep. You've got Savannah all interested now.
The petite little MC heads back up to the stage, clapping for Delilah (and looking a little misty-eyed). "Let's hear it for Delilah! That appears to be the last performer for the night… so let's give a nice round of applause to our performs. Thank you, and good night!"
Evan doesn't know the particulars of Else's history - the song's probably twice as moving to those who do - but the brief introduction is enough to appreciate, as the upsurge of clapping quickly proves. This is what you missed for being a spaz, Hailey. And Walter's too young to appreciate it, but he should have time in the coming years.
A smile is given down to Brand, QUinn patting him on the back as she holds Walter in her arms. "You did a good job up there, Brand. Keep at it," she offers, grinning. BUt with that, she turns, leaving behind her instrumetns as she crosses the room, pasuing midway as Delilah announces the song she's chosen to play, Quinn smiles weakly, giving Delilah a thumbs up. She disn't know Else nearly as well as Delilah did, but for the short time she did she was a friend and a half. Quinn wishes she were around to see her about to release something now, if only to give her some advice.
But once she starts playing, Quinn continues her way, stopping near Savannah, waiting until the song is over so that she can clap, and then move up next to the author. "She was a good person, Else. She did good in choosin' that song," she comments idly, before turning to face Savannah. "Nice t' see you again, Ms. Burton. That excerpt you read was quite good."
Delilah allows the last notes to echo for the entirety, letting people applause as they wish and giving her enough time to compose her breath to make sure she doesn't start tearing up. She misses Else quite terribly, just like the sister Dee claimed she was like. Having no true siblings and few cousins, Delilah has always considered her friends as that family she doesn't actually have. A rub of her nose later and she is bowing her shoulders and smiling for the floor.
Maybe she hurries a little so that she can get back to Walter, but she can't blame herself. She stows her guitar with Quinn's things, where she knows it will be fine, tucked away, before gliding her way back to her friend, and by proxy, those nearby again. The baby boy seems to have liked the song too, though maybe it is because he hears it a lot more often. "Oh, boy. How did I do?"
Brand applauds for her, perhaps a bit louder than he had applauded for everyone else. "That was some good stuff…" To the people that spoke to him, he responds with thanks and everything. At Delilah's arrive he goes a bit silent again. He doesn't want to be the first to say something to her, as he's unsure of the relationship dynamics at work here considering the nature of the work she just performed.
Savannah glances over as Quinn heads her way with Walter and she beams. "I'm glad you liked it. It's just a chunk I was working on, it's not edited or anything, but… it seemed good to me and I thought people might like something new… so I did. Who is this little sweetheart?" She glances to the baby, then lets her gaze drift over to Delilah. "The song was wonderful. I really enjoyed it."
Evan finishes up his drink, checks his watch - it wouldn't be the first time the curfew bit him in the ass - then wanders over toward the others, because hey, why not? The handful of others present seem more interested in keeping to themselves, anyway. "Far as I could tell," he offers in response to Delilah's question, "you did it justice."
"This is the wonderful boy the song was written for. 'is name's Walter," Quinn remarks, looking over at Delilah as she comes up. "You did wonderful, Delilah. Second bes tthing t' hearing it from Else herself." Looking down at Walter, she turns him so that she's facing her. "Maybe someday we'll hear it from him someday." And with that, she offers the boy back over to his mother. "Anyway, I didn't mean t' bother you," Quinn offers back to the writer, smiling at her. "Just wanted t' give you my thoughts! An' let you know I'm lookin' forward t' the final product. Rather cool a' you t' come t' somethin' like this t' do a small readin'."
Delilah rubs her fingers together, smiling at the rest. "Thank you, all of you." She leans in to give Walter a kiss on his head and scoop him up. "We've met briefly before, miss Burton, you might not remember me. I had a well-loved book for you to sign, during summer. There was some ruckus at the one I went to, you probably remember that more than me." Also gave the author her number, though that was more for her writing research than anything else. The redhead laughs and holds Walter where he can watch everyone else with liquid blue eyes. Hmmmmm.
"Given any thought to writing any children's books? Or maybe I should? For munchkins like this one, who got that big red dot at the hospital…" There have been books for kids with gay parents, why not evo kids? And then, it occurs to Delilah, that she isn't sure she told any of her friends. Teo knows, he was there with her at the hospital. Maybe she said something to them- she can't remember, and it makes her flush, and look sheepish.
Savannah offers Quinn a winning smile. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Walter!" She says in the baby's direction, then glances back to Quinn. "Oh, it's not a bother. Really, I enjoyed it. And I think this is the perk of people going to small readings… occasionally they might get something surprising. A lot of talented people tonight. Your music was lovely."
The author grins broadly as she looks towards Delilah. "I do remember you. You were that adorable pregnant woman… and I remember your copy of the book. I tend to remember people that are clearly good fans." She peeks at Walter, then smiles a little bit. "I'm working my way down that direction. It might not have been too apparently from the excerpt, but Hailey is fourteen and Austin is fifteen. The book I'm working on kind of focuses on people who are newly coming into their abilities and the problems that come with that transitional phase. I'm pretty sure eventually I might branch into something for a younger audience, but… I get so carried away with what I'm writing I might forget that I wanted to."
Her attention is drawn back to Brand as she notes his outrage, and she nods a little. "Well, think about it. The whole point of the Registry is so that the government can keep track of 'dangerous abilities'. And since it's mandatory anyways… wouldn't be surprised if they test them right after they make sure they're breathing. It's crude, but the government gets what the government wants, these days."
Evan can't think of a lot more to say to Delilah or Savannah that hasn't already been said. He knows some bits and pieces about their genres, but not as much as the dedicated fan. Brand's comment, on the other hand? That, he can wrap his head around just fine. "I wouldn't mind it at all if it was subject to doctor/patient confidentiality. Which it should be— but they've let 'innocent until proven guilty' slide over the past few years. Hell if I know how to stop that."
"Thanks!" Quinn replies enthusiastically, happy to receive praise from the author. "Have a CD comin' out soon, called Glass Wonderland. Pick it up. Or come t' the release party, I can send you an email about it." The invitation is given casually, like Savannah's just any other person, and Quinn just offers a bit of a shrug, before she steps back and looks between Delilah and Savannah. "Oh, so I'm not the only one who met you before. That's nice t' know. Didn't know Walter was Evo, though." She turns, leaning forward and peering at Walter, their eyes level. "Walter, you have t' promise me not t' acidentally pee fire or or turn iinvisible, okay? We'll all worry if you just up an' disappear one day. I don't want t' have t' smack you on teh ehad for bein' a twit."
"I couldn't say that it happens after breathing, miss, I had him in a backseat of a truck. I don't know what they do now, Brand. When I was there I asked for him to be tested. To be honest, for my own piece of mind. Cause, you see, both his parents are. Probably other parts of his bloodline too." Delilah murmurs into his ginger hair now, smirking over at Quinn and nodding. "And this way I am expecting something to happen. I just hope he doesn't learn to fly, or teleport, or phase, of turn invisible, or something like that where he cam be as mischievous as he wants, and nobody can box him for it. Little boys are scamps, god help me if he one day starts doing something that makes it worse." Though it would be hilarious.
"Quinn knows what it's about, Walter, she's so onto you now." Walter, on the other hand, isn't really sure why Quinn is staring him down, one hand half in his mouth as he blinks back at her. "I hope your writing goes well, miss Burton. If you- ah- ever need some input- you probably have my number." Dee isn't so subtle with her wanting to offer the famous lady something, unlike Quinn. "I can offer you some insight to the kids with powers thing, mine was when I was sixteen. I know lots of kids like that, too."
"I'd love to hear about your party. And I'll certainly pick up a copy of your CD. Might be good music to write to," Savannah says, grinning at Quinn. She chortles at the idea of Walter peeing fire, peeking at the little tyke. "Aw, a cute baby like you? You'd never cause any mischief." The author glances to Delilah. "… back of a truck? Well, now that is a story. I don't think I could've come up with something as creative as that. I'll certainly have to call you up sometime. It'd be a pleasure to talk." With curfew drawing near, the occupants of the cafe begin to make their way out.