fandomtownies | Groovy Tunes, Friday

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Groovy Tunes, Friday

Dante had one of Breq's songs stuck in his head all day.

It was driving him nuts. No matter how much he dug through Spotify on his phone, he couldn't find it.

So he was spending his shift at work digging through what few albums they still sold, hoping to find something that looked like it - and humming quietly to himself. Stupid songs. Stupid Breq.

[[ open! ]]

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Jono, meanwhile, was doing the last-minute Pride flail. In that he'd organized Pride, and now the day before it was going to happen, he'd realized that he could absolutely set up... something? Music-related? That was less idiotic than 'people make requests and I try to play them, I guess.'

And so he was stepping into the shop today, looking faintly harried, and making a beeline for the karaoke systems. And then pausing midway to nod to Dante in the process, because manners and things.

"Hey, Starsmore," Dante greeted, sliding an album back into the rack. "What're you looking for?"

//Karaoke, I think,// Jono replied, looking speculatively at the selection. //Didn't have time to pull music together for the picnic this year, so I figured maybe I'd let people just... make their own?//

He had no idea if that was how it worked. But that's how it was going to work now.

"You know if you wanted someone to show up with a guitar, you just shoulda said," Dante said, raising his eyebrows.

A little crinkle of amusement was visible somewhere at the edges of Jono's eyes at that.

//It has been a while. You still play, then?//

Of course he did. And of course Jono knew he did. He listened to radio, after all. But he had to tease. It was hard-wired into him.

If Jono had been hoping to get a rise out of him, he was succeeding. Dante pulled a face. "Of course I do, old man," he said. "Pass me a fucking guitar."

Mission accomplished, Jono shrugged and made his way to the guitar wall.

//Electric or acoustic?//

"Acoustic, why not? I love a handicap."

Jonothon nodded and wandered along the wall before pulling down one of the ones that wasn't selling less because of the quality and entirely because of the cost; a Taylor, one that he enjoyed playing himself from time to time, but could never quite justify buying for himself.

//If that's what you want to call this,// he replied. //Let's see what you can do these days, mate.//

Dante stuck out his tongue as he reached for the guitar. "Better'n you, old guy."

//Prove it, mate,// Jono replied, leaning his head back, clearly amused. //I've got a few years on you yet, you know.//

"Getting old just makes you slow," Dante told him, sitting down with the guitar over his knee.

Okay, the fuck he was going to play?

//Well then, Speedy,// Jono said, leaning back against the wall as he waited for Dante to sort himself out, //whenever you're ready, hm?//

Choice made. Dante rolled his eyes oh so obviously and went for something with enough complexity and tempo to soothe his need to show off.

Take that, Starsmore.

Though he wasn't about to sing.

Jono stayed quiet through the entire performance, nodding along.

//Well, hell,// he said, once Dante had finished. //You've been practicing, I see. And Stinkifst? Here you give me a hard time about playing music from the nineties.//

Or was it retro when Dante did it?

Dante rolled his eyes. "You play fuckin' Pearl Jam, man," he said. "You can't handle acoustic Combichrist or shit."

Oh, if Jono had the ability to snort at that, he would have.

//I play Pearl Jam because I enjoy Pearl Jam,// he pointed out. //There's a difference between taste and ability.//

But no, really, the ability to snort here would've been much appreciated. He lifted his chin a little.

//Maggots at the Party? My Life My Rules? Mate, I've been running this place for years. I play Opeth for Hannibal at home because it amuses him. Try me.//

"Suuuure, old guy," Dante said, and struck the opening chord to 'Never Surrender' - which sounded almost adorably old-fashioned on acoustic.

//There is just no satisfying kids these days,// Jono griped lightly, pushing himself from against the wall, and then reaching for an acoustic of his own. //Alright, lad. I suppose I'm going to have to prove I haven't gone entirely to shite in my old age.//

By really throwing himself into jumping into the rest of that song, yes.

"We can always go back to Even Flow if this is getting too hard on you," Dante taunted, not about to let up, either, as they played along.

//Maybe as a cool-down,// Jono countered, quite happily keeping pace. //At th'very least, it'd lend itself more cleanly to acoustic.//

Still, he was kind of digging this, as it was. Not an expected take on Combichrist at all, but not bad, either.

And it meant he got to play.

Octavia was still trying to get rid of whatever the hell the flowers had been humming yesterday.

Banging on the drums for a while was sure to help.

"Dante."

That and a nod were greeting enough, right?

"Octavia, 'sup?"

Dante was just a little better at words.

Octavia would be okay with it staying at 'a little'.

"Came to play the drums," she said. And while the dry matter-of-factness of that seemed like a dare to try and stop her, she added: "Is that okay?"

Because occasionally she had something approaching manners.

"'Course it is," Dante said, stepping away from the shelves. "Just let me get my guitar."

Octavia almost told him it hadn't been an invitation. But maybe it had.

Either way, she gave him a 'suit yourself' shrug before heading for where they kept the drums.

Dante didn't need an invitation to decide to join, anyway.

He plucked a nice, spikey guitar out of the many they had up on display, snagged an amp with his free hand, and followed after her.

Octavia picked up the sticks, settled down behind the drums, shrugged off her jacket (probably too warm for today's weather, anyway, but it was a habit), and began to play.

She'd improved. She wasn't particularly skillful, of course, but she had enough coordination to produce a steady, harsh beat. Relentless, savage.

And oh so loud.

While she played, Dante plugged in his amp, got the guitar hooked up, and then... waited.

Just waited for an entry point.

He liked her beat.

He found it at last on an offbeat and hit a chord, enjoying the sense he power he got out of the roar that spewed from the amp.

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Groovy Tunes, Friday

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