Natalie's Duplex, The Hegemony Compound, Brazil, Tuesday Morning

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie had returned from another stay in Toronto yesterday, via a short layover – the length of a cup of coffee – in Fandom. Things in Toronto were... well. They were okay. Good, even. The school part was going great, as might have been predicted, and the social was interesting, for lack of a better word. She was integrating into some circles, as much as she ever did.

But it was still good to be here where she had space and quiet, and Moxy rubbed himself against her ankles and purred. It was still early, almost too early to be awake, even. She figured she could steal some time to herself.

So she got her guitar and sat down on her living room floor. She could play something, just for herself.

[ooc: NFB, but open!]

Comments

[lockestheway]

Peter had been up since well before dawn-- it was the only way to catch the Europeans at the start of their workday, and the issues that were on the table right now were vital.

But a few hours into the morning - early for Nat, not always for him -, he could justify heading back to his duplex for half an hour to make some coffee and at least consider the thought of sitting down.

He was almost there, too, when he heard music.

He paused in the hallway.

[whenshewasnice]

It was a good time to pause right there. She was just getting into the song. There'd been a lot of Elliott Smith playing back in Toronto, not that it made a difference to this particular listener. Not that she knew there was one, either.

There was a false start, a fumbled chord. The guitar, although she'd been practicing off and on for two years now, continued to not be her main instrument. But she was okay. Good enough to get back on track after her fumble, good enough to sing to her own accompaniment. "Drink up baby, stay up all night, with the things you could do, you won't but you might. The potential you'll be, that you'll never see, the promises you'll only make."

She had a clear voice, idly melancholy, soft. Emotion came easily with music but there was always a filter of Natalie on top of it.

"Drink up with me now, and forget all about the pressure of days, do what I say, and I'll make you okay, I'll drive them away, the images stuck in your head."

[lockestheway]

The listener in question was not the best judge of decent music, but Nat's voice was pretty-- Peter had to give her that. The hint of emotion to it was slightly weird, a thought he batted away immediately because it was pointless in its own right.

He should probably leave her alone, right? Because either she was alone, or she was playing for company who could probably appreciate the music more than he could.

He looked back into the hall, sighed. This was stupid, but now his curiosity was nagging at him.

He walked to her door.

[whenshewasnice]

Oh, she had a very captive audience! If 'captive' stretched to accommodate 'roling on the floor, batting a fleck of dust floating in the air' because that was what Mr. Moxy was currently doing. He was used to the music, and had long since given up on trying to play with the strings while she was playing.

"The people you've been before, that you don't want around anymore; they push, and shove, and won't bend to your will. I'll keep them still."

It was hard to tell what she was thinking but that still sounded sincere, a promise. She'd been working so hard lately, actual work, school work, and the work of just being social, and this was like a whole different part of her brain.

"Drink up baby, look at the stars, I'll kiss you again between the bars, where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air, waiting to finally be caught."

[lockestheway]

Peter was pretty sure he had the keys to her duplex in his pocket somewhere, so he could walk in without disturbing her. But that didn't seem like something that would necessarily be appreciated.

Either way, he was now fairly resigned to the impulse to spend his early morning break somewhere in the vicinity of Natalie.

So he waited, at least until there was a brief lull in the singing.

Then he knocked.

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie played a few chords more before setting the guitar aside and getting up so she could come to the door.

"Morning," she said once she had. Stepping out of the way was a reflex.

[lockestheway]

"Morning," Peter greeted, striding past her into the room like he belonged there. "You don't happen to have any coffee brewing, do you?"

[whenshewasnice]

"It should be ready by now," she told him as she closed the door. Moxy padded out of the living room, curious, and then padded back in once he'd verified who it was. "Help yourself."

[lockestheway]

Peter wandered into her kitchen. He knew intimately well where her coffee pot was. Strangely enough.

"Heard you playing a jaunty tune," he called. "Not bad."

[whenshewasnice]

"It wasn't jaunty," Natalie called back, as she wandered back into her living room. "And you're a terrible judge of music. Get me a cup, too."

[lockestheway]

Peter filled a second cup of coffee and stepped out of the kitchen. "Fine, it was kind of on the sad side," he said. "But I stick to my 'not bad'."

It was better than 'not bad', and he knew it, but he was Peter.

[whenshewasnice]

"It was better than 'not bad'," Natalie told him mildly from her seat on the floor. Look, some days were floor-sitting days. The guitar leaned against the side of the couch, and Moxy was curling up against her leg.

[lockestheway]

Peter offered her the cup.

"Maybe a smidgen," he said. "A scrap."

[whenshewasnice]

"Better." She took the cup. "How long have you been up? You know, before eavesdropping on me."

[lockestheway]

"Since four this morning," Peter said lightly. "I had some talks with Scandinavia."

[whenshewasnice]

"Quelle surprise," she drawled mildly, before taking a sip from her cup. "Have fruitful chats with the vikings?"

[lockestheway]

"Promising," Peter said, "But we're not making any björnberry salads just yet."

He took a sip of his coffee. "Don't let me keep you from your guitar, though."

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie raised her coffee cup in a demonstrative manner. "Do you want me to pour hot coffee all over myself?"

That was less a no and more an 'I didn't stop because you showed up'.

[lockestheway]

"Ooh," Peter said, waggling his eyebrows. "Modern art."

[whenshewasnice]

She rolled her eyes. "Performance art of that sort is less funny when you're the one who has to see me to a hospital for my burns."

[lockestheway]

"Oh, where's your spirit of adventure?" Peter said.

He took another sip of his coffee.

"How's Toronto?"

[whenshewasnice]

Natalie shrugged. "Toronto is Toronto," she said. "School keeps rolling on, I seem to have acquired a social life, small though it may be."

[lockestheway]

"A social life?" Peter echoed. "What's that?"

[whenshewasnice]

"It's this thing where people spend time around people they don't live or work with," she explained as she set her cup down on the floor. "I don't expect you to have heard of it."

[lockestheway]

"It sounds like a strange and alien practice. I want no part of it," Peter huffed. "I bet these people go out in the sun, too."