fandomtownies | The Boards, Thursday Evening

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The Boards, Thursday Evening

Jono had had big plans for tonight at the Boards, but the events of the last few weeks had thrown something of a wrench in the gears when it came to organizing the showcase he'd wanted to hold.

... Or even finding people to perform in it. Which meant that he was going to have to adjust his plans somewhat.

A lot.

There was a new sign up where the old one had been.

Due to Unforeseen Circumstances, The Fandom Showcase Has Been Cancelled.
Come in for an Open Mic Instead!
There's Beer.

When all else failed, bribe people to participate. And if anybody needed Jono, he'd be on the stage playing his guitar for the duration of the evening or until somebody else showed up who wanted to perform. Whichever came first.

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Right.

"Let's go with dates," Eliot said. "Since we're talkin' 'bout whether a song's before anybody's time or not."

Oh, thank God. That was the easy answer.

//Born in '77,// he replied, shrugging. //Which puts me, what, four years after Free Bird?//

As if he didn't know.

Eliot nodded. He wouldn't have put Jono at any older than maybe his late 20s, but apparently Jono's life had been just a bit too complicated for an accurate guess, anyway. "'76," he volunteered. "Most classic rock I know's from my dad."

Really, after his second complete physical reset and his third lifetime's worth of memories, Jono had given up keeping count.

//I picked mine up in pubs I wasn't supposed to be walking into for a few years more,// Jono confessed. //Then moved to America when I was 18, and the rest of my musical taste was rounded out somewhat by MTV.//

And it was a bloody crime, what had come of MTV, really.

"You know, this explains so much." The obsession with grunge, for instance.

//Does it?//

It really sort of did, Jono.

"Oh yeah. The whole Brit-punk meets Seattle look and everything. I'm surprised your hair ain't longer. Or dyed green or somethin'."

//I stopped wearing it longer and spiked up back in the nineties,// Jono muttered, wrinkling his nose. //Even I have my limits, mate.//

His limits had included a mullet, once.

Those had been dark days.

"Bettin' there's some real funny pictures of you floatin' around out there, somewhere."

Because clearly there were none of those in existence for the guy who occasionally decided to "blend in" while working a job by wearing the ugliest shirt he could find.

//Probably in London,// Jono allowed, shrugging his shoulders. //Unless my ex burned them.//

She had used one of them as a lure in order to attempt to have him captured and cannibalized by a marrow-sucking mutant, that one time.

Man, exes could be just the worst, huh.

"You ain't tried to track 'em down and burn 'em yourself?"

//That would involve speaking to the ex,// Jono pointed out. //And going back to London. Two things I tend to avoid whenever I'm able, these days.//

For many reasons including but not limited to Gayle, Sugar Kane, and that cult that his family had been a part of for thousands of years.

... One of these things was somewhat less like the others.

"London's a pretty big place," Eliot mused. "Though I guess you do kind of stand out."

//More than you'd think,// Jono muttered. //There were tabloids once.//

A beat.

//Twice. At least twice. Maybe three times.

"See, now that just sounds irresponsible to me."

Eliot, don't tease.

//Only one of those times was actually my fault,// Jono replied, wrinkling his nose. //I get what I get, when I'm spending that much time in the company of a pop superstar. And I don't even like bubblegum.//

Damn you, Sugar Kane.

//The other times, I wasn't even conscious for.//

Because of course he hadn't been. What was his life?

"One of these days, I'm gonna have to get you to tell some of these stories, 'stead of just hintin' at 'em."

Eliot's idea of a funny story involved a Mossad agent murdering someone with a mop handle.

//One of these days, just say the word, and I'll be happy to share,// Jono replied, shrugging his shoulders. //Be nice to have somebody else to talk about some of them with who'll appreciate how insane they are.//

Without being outright horrified, like some.

"Sounds good." Eliot tilted his head. "There an equivalent for you of buyin' ya a beer?"

What with the not having a mouth and all.

//Not unless you feel comfortable letting a telepath tap into your sense of taste,// Jono explained, shaking his head. //I've heard a lot of mixed opinions on that one, so I like to make sure people are alright with it, first.//

Everything from people who didn't care to people who insisted, to people who thought it was gross, to the ones who didn't want a telepath doing anything remotely resembling looking in their head. Even if that wasn't at all what he was doing.

Eliot frowned as he thought that prospect over. ". . . How exactly does somethin' like that work?"

He wasn't going to say "no" outright. But he was kinda thinking something more along the lines of getting Jono hard to come by concert tickets or something.

Hey, Jono wouldn't turn down concert tickets, either!

//It's... hard to put to words,// he admitted, after a pause. //Somebody drinks something, and I just kind of pay attention to the part of their mind that processes the sensations. I don't peer at their thoughts or anything. I don't want to. Anyway, it's a cheap substitute for actually getting to drink anything myself.//

"So kinda . . . skimmin' the surface," Eliot said. He'd be on the hard no side of this if he hadn't taken that class on psionics from Emma awhile back. "Could be worth a shot. Ain't much fun drinkin' alone."

//Skimming the surface,// Jono agreed. //I only go really poking around deeper if I have permission.// Or if he was very, very angry. //But you can taste without really putting thought into it, so it isn't as though I have to go digging.//

Thank goodness for Emma, right?

//And of course you're welcome to change your mind at any point. I won't even sit there and give you miserable looks while you drink, if you do.//

He'd come to terms with not having a mouth a while ago. High school had involved a lot of sulking, though.

"Alright. We'll do that sometime. Trade some stories and share a beer."

The Boards, Thursday Evening

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