Groovy Tunes, Sunday

[furnaceface]

Well. Jono still had one day off left before he had to make his way back to Glacia, and since he'd missed his shift at the Groovy Tunes yesterday on account of a zombie walk that had been called due to real, actual, bank-robbing zombie, he was here today instead. He didn't imagine it would be especially busy, no. Not with the majority of the island's students taking off for he-hadn't-been-paying-attention. But that didn't mean he wasn't up for enjoying a day of just sitting around the music shop, listening to new albums and, whenever the muse hit him, picking up random instruments and trying to teach himself how to play them.

And that was how Jono Starsmore wound up killing an hour with his feet up on the front counter, playing 'Creep' on the ukulele.

Maybe he'd break his brain trying to figure out how to play the harp, next. Why did they even have a harp? Who on the island could possibly want a bloody harp?

[Idek. Open!]

Comments

[sharp_as_knives]

And this was Hannibal, dropping in to check on his friend and patient, because aftercare was totally a thing.

He stopped to listen to the...whatever that was, amused.

[furnaceface]

The little red Mahalo that Jono had grabbed from the wall and was strumming away at in a simple four-chord progression, tapping his foot against counter as he did so? That one?

//I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul...//

He hadn't gone so far as to set up his phone so that he could actually, tangibly sing along, no, but when he was alone, he wasn't exactly shy about singing in his head, either. Apparently he had his telepathy turned right down today, or he would've noticed Hannibal come in before that verse.

//I want you to noti-- Oh.// See, there he went, glancing up at Hannibal as he stepped into the shop. He really needed to get a bell or something for that door, apparently. //Hello, mate. Didn't notice you there.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"So I see." Hannibal kept his voice low and soothing. He had no idea how long Jono's headache and tinnitus might persist.

Which didn't mean he wouldn't give him grief. "If you tell me that was written for the ukelele, you may crush my nascent appreciation for modern popular music," he added. Soothingly.

[furnaceface]

//Ha, no, not even remotely,// Jono replied, shaking his head a little. //Drum and guitar, mostly. It's Radiohead. I've played Radiohead for you, haven't I?//

His brains were still a little scrambled since yesterday. It was a marvel that he could remember the lyrics in the first place.

... Though, in fairness, there was a reason he had spent an hour on Creep alone.

//I'm pretty certain everybody who's ever recorded cover songs has a version of Creep to their name. It's... simple. Lends itself oddly well to ukulele. I think.//

Hard to tell if any of this actually sounded any good, given how close he'd been to Dinah's screaming, granted.

[sharp_as_knives]

"You have," Hannibal agreed. "This song was on one of the CDs you lent me, I think." He nodded to the ukulele to indicate the song. "A regrettably common affliction to sing about."

[furnaceface]

//What, feeling inferior?//

It was a regrettably common affliction in general, really. But Jono shrugged his shoulders a little, looking down at his ukulele. He was going to keep this one. It was small and cheap and candy apple red. Why not?

//Not belonging?//

All very common.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Both," Hannibal agreed. He smirked a little. "Though to be fair, there are many who feel superior who shouldn't, either."

He leaned on the counter next to Jono. "How are you feeling?" Not that he was necessarily going to trust your answer, Jono, but it seemed polite to ask as well as to observe it himself.

[furnaceface]

//Little bit like I sprained my brain,// Jono replied, shrugging his shoulders a little. //Nose has stopped bleeding in fits and starts, but sounds are still a bit tinny. You sound a little like somebody's been running you through a blender, actually.//

But for an impromptu ukulele cover of Creep, it wasn't exactly detrimental.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Fortunately they haven't," Hannibal answered. "And you look a bit less as if the same had happened. Although," he noted, "probably not well enough to avoid Raven fretting at you."

So look forward to that.

[furnaceface]

//Should've just blown him up,// Jono mumbled, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling and playing a little dun-dun-dunnnnnnnn on the ukulele. //Would've taken myself and half the neighbourhood with me, but at least I wouldn't have this bloody headache to contend with.//

Seriously. Subtlety and Jonothon didn't get along well. He'd tried, and see where it got him?

//Or that one. I think I burned a half-inch off on all sides while I was trying to push him back. Try hiding that from her.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Maybe if you tried it more often, Jono, it wouldn't be so hard!

"Personally, I'm very pleased you didn't." Really, Jono? Suicide to avoid headache? "And so will she be. But I think she enjoys fussing. You wouldn't want to deprive her of something so important, would you?"

[furnaceface]

Oh, bah. He wouldn't have stayed dead. He never did.

//She's got plenty of opportunity to fuss with Karla as it is,// Jono pointed out. //I wouldn't want to distract her from that. Though I suppose Karla might thank me for it...//

[sharp_as_knives]

"There you are," Hannibal said, chuckling, "think of it as your good deed for the day."

[furnaceface]

Jono was going to just project a groan at that, leaning back dramatically in his seat.

//If what I did yesterday doesn't cover th'rest of my 'good deed' quota until at least 2015, I don't know why I even bothered,// he complained.

[sharp_as_knives]

"Because you didn't want people to die?" Hannibal suggested. "Or because you had a sudden urge to find out how much you could do before splitting your head open. Further."

Wasn't he a helpful friend?

[furnaceface]

//Further,// Jono echoed, wrinkling his nose. //I think I did a rather good job of it. It's good and split, now.//

He raised a hand and felt idly around the edges of his wrappings.

//Letting large, angry corpses smash innocent bystanders with cars didn't seem like a great way to end my day.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I'm sure the bystanders thought the same thing." Hannibal eyed Jono's fidgeting. "Are the wrappings bothering you today?"

[furnaceface]

//What's under them,// Jono admitted. //Back when I was new to th'whole mutant thing, I used to check in th'mirror, to see how much of myself had burned away. Much as I can throw out energy like I did yesterday, I'm not really made for it.//

He shrugged his shoulders, setting the Mahalo down on the counter.

//Stopped paying such close attention, after a few years of it. Figured if I was going to burn away until I was nothing but fire and bone, it was going to happen whether I kept tabs on it or not. S'just been a while since I really thought about that, I suppose.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Your nose isn't bleeding any longer." Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him. "That will heal, but not this?"

[furnaceface]

//They're two different problems,// Jono replied, shaking his head. //Any telepath can tell you about the migraines and the nosebleeds when they over-exert themselves. It comes with th'territory. I'm a strong one by nature, but I'm almost criminally out of practise with it. Every now and again, I feel vindictive enough to step in and make use of it, but for the most part, it's just... there.//

He waved a hand at his chest.

//This, on the other hand... it's complicated. It's the same power that's leveled buildings and vaporized sorceresses and demons. It's from the same root place as my telepathy, but where that just deals with the mind, this, the flame, causes real, tangible physical damage. To my surroundings, to my enemies, and, when I push too hard, to me. You're a doctor, mate. I'm sure you've got some idea as to how difficult it is to heal up burn scars from fire hot enough to reduce flesh to ash. There's a reason my face is scarred well past my bandages.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"I know that fire hot enough to burn flesh to ash doesn't live within flesh," Hannibal pointed out. "But this fire clearly does, so we have to assume it follows other rules."

He eyed Jono. "Your body heals. Maybe not fast enough to heal all of you," at least not at the moment, "but the wounds at the edges of your skin should heal at least as well as a nosebleed. When a limb is amputated, it may not grow back, but the skin heals over."

Baby steps, Jono; believe that much, and maybe you could make some progress.

[furnaceface]

//When a limb is amputated, the stump left behind doesn't typically gout flames, either,// Jono pointed out, sounding tired. //This isn't a matter of healing the wounds at the edges of my skin so much as it's me pushing too bloody hard and the flames re-defining where the edges are. Damage is damage. If my body hasn't made any headway healing the rest of it, why should it have better luck with the centimeter I burned away yesterday? It's th'same injury, worsened.//

Sorry, Hannibal. Jono had about three decades of cumulative experience as a guy-on-fire to contend with, here. He appreciated the speculation, but he wasn't about to hop on board with this one so easily.

[sharp_as_knives]

Fortunately Hannibal had about the same amount of experience in being a manipulative sonofa overcoming people's preconceptions of themselves.

"For a man partly composed of fire, you have a remarkably set view of yourself." Hannibal smiled and reached to grip Jono's shoulder to soften the criticism. "Larger wounds take longer to heal, and can require work. And sometimes a bit of help. But damage doesn't have to be permanent."

And if it sounded like he didn't entirely mean Jono's body...that was probably because he didn't.

[furnaceface]

//It's.... harder to heal something when it's been systematically carved away and replaced with something else,// Jono replied, and if he didn't entirely mean his body either, what of it? //So many times, you start to lose track of what came before.//

He shook his head a little, eyes on the hand on his shoulder.

//You piece yourself together enough times just to have yourself ripped away again, you start to wonder what the point is in trying.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"Like Sisyphus and his rock?" Hannibal asked, rubbing his shoulder gently. Not that his recent experience was much or a comparison, but in this respect it seemed apt. "Sometimes the point is the trying. The rest of the times, the point is hope."

[furnaceface]

//I remember hope,// Jono muttered. //Sometimes I even go around telling people how important it is.//

He leaned his head back again, and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before glancing Hannibal's way.

//I'm doing better, you know. Than I was. I get out of bed in the mornings. I function, for the most part. I could just give up on everything, not bother going through the motions. It isn't as though I'd starve to death if I just... stopped.// And he'd entertained those thoughts quite a fair bit, over the years. //Not so big on hope these days, but the fact that I'm not laying catatonic in a bed somewhere just not bothering almost balances that out.//

[sharp_as_knives]

"That is good progress," Hannibal agreed. "You should do whatever you must, if it helps. But try not to live so much for others that you forget to live for yourself. Enjoy the beauty that life has to offer."

He gestured at the ukulele, a smile playing about his lips. "Music, for one. Or something like it, anyway."

[furnaceface]

//Funny thing is, living for others has been the one thing I can do that makes me feel like I'm doing something worthwhile,// Jono replied. And then paused, and amended, //Usually.//

There were always those ungrateful ones, the mutant haters, or those who just shied away from him, thinking him a monster.

[sharp_as_knives]

"There's nothing wrong with helping, if it gives you a sense of hope," Hannibal answered. "The danger is that it ties your sense of self and worth to the actions of others. If you define yourself by your ability to help, and you're unable to, your sense of self suffers."

Not that that was at all applicable to you, was it?

[furnaceface]

Ahahaha, it would be more applicable if Jono remembered what having a sense of self felt like.

//I've been a soldier too bloody long,// he muttered, closing his eyes again. //Not much has been for me for quite some time. S'what this place is supposed to be about, though. My music shop. Mine. A place to retreat to when I can't handle whatever else is out there.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal smiled, and the hand on Jono's shoulder shifted to become more of a hug. "That is a very good start."

[furnaceface]

//Thought so,// Jono agreed, leaning back against Hannibal a little. Hugs were fantastic, even if he rarely admitted it. //It's good to know I'm getting this part right, at least.//

[sharp_as_knives]

Hugs were wonderful for building close connections to people who were touch-starved!

"You get more right than you give yourself credit for." Hannibal smiled. "I just happen to believe there is room for improvement."

[furnaceface]

//Well, yes, but when isn't there?//

See? Jono was in total agreement with you, Hannibal. He knew he had a long way to go. And if he was ever in a place where he wasn't constantly thinking that, then he'd finally be in a position where it wasn't so imperative that he work on it so much. Hell, maybe he'd even be something vaguely approaching healthy, by that point.

//I'm a work in progress, I suppose.//

[sharp_as_knives]

It was something to work towards!

"Even unfinished works can be beautiful and valuable," Hannibal pointed out. "Have you ever seen the price on a Michelangelo sketch?"

[furnaceface]

Oh, Hannibal. Jonothon was going to just smirk faintly.

//I can imagine. Though hopefully I won't have to resort to being recognized posthumously before that worth really starts to show.//

He'd be waiting a while if he did, considering he still wasn't completely certain it was possible for him to die.

[sharp_as_knives]

Hannibal chuckled. "You're a bit more colorful. But you take my point." He gave Jono a look that was half serious and half arch. "Don't think I'll give up on this point, but I'm willing to wait until your ears aren't ringing, at least."