Can you play? // Christy & Stephen
stephenmorrison-rp:
“I’m Stephen,” he said hesitantly, pretty sure she wasn’t actually mad at him, but unable to really tell. “And that….sucks? I hope you’re not paying him,” he frowned, he hated it when people didn’t do their jobs correctly, it was unprofessional and just disrespectful.
Christy was very pretty, and probably would be even more so if she actually smiled instead of scowling, but hey, that wasn’t his business. She seemed to have a good reason for being upset anyway.
“Maybe you should consider finding a new musician,” he suggested hesitantly, “One that actually shows up.”
Eyeing the man up and down quickly, Christy folded her arms across her chest. Now, what? He’d gotten her up bursting her little bubble (though unintentionally, and unknowingly), and she was of no mind to turn back home. Raising an eyebrow to improve (or what one would call it) her scowl, Christy scraped aimlessly with her shoe at the ground.
“Or one that isn’t an asshole,” she muttered perfectly audibly. “I don’t suppose you can play?” she shot the question at him very sharply, though sarcastically. The man was obviously on his way somewhere, but if he could play, maybe she could persuade him… even if gaining friends wasn’t one of her stronger sides, she ought to try. “You don’t seem like much of an asshole, and here you are.”
Still scowling, she surveyed him more gently, relaxing her face a little. No. She was absolutely horrible persuading people, most of all handsome strangers.
“And you…,” oh shit, what are words? “… you don’t seem like a guy who listens to… horrible mainstream music.”
This was going absolutely and perfectly straight down to hell. Christy’s scowl intensified, and she lowered her gaze somewhat, angry at herself, though seemingly not displaying any signs of embarrassment. This was a bad idea.
“Or, whatever. You probably have somewhere to be, so better scurry away,” she said irritably, trying to feign indifference but failing horribly, and avoiding his gaze completely. Just leave, I’ll go sit down in the park and waste my day there. At least people won’t try to put money in my fucking guitar. She wanted to smash that god damn guitar, right there and then. It had been a mistake trusting that stupid musician-wannabe, it had been a mistake to think that something might’ve happened, and it was a mistake she hadn’t scared the man in front of her away when she had the chance. Finally scowling at him, Christy tried to maintain her anger.
(Source: christyrossi)
Can you play? // Christy & Stephen
stephenmorrison-rp:
Stephen raised his eyebrows at the angry response; maybe he really should have kept walking. Still, he was only trying to be nice. Maybe he’d startled her. Except, she’d seemed equally as angry at everyone else who passed by…
“I wasn’t planning to put money in it,” Stephen said, and then before he could think about it, “Generally you have to actually be playing music for that.” He bit his lip, but if this woman was going to be snappy, he could too.
“I was just asking,” he said, shrugging, so maybe he was a little nosy. He was a reporter after all. Not that he did much field work….”You seem upset, and people don’t usually lounge around on sidewalks for no reason.”
Fixing her eyes determinedly on the man, Christy raised her eyebrows in a rather softer version of her usual scowl, her dark eyes emitting sparks, as per usual. Normally it scared children, but if you were used to it, the sparks could be pretty. Just. Nobody seemed to think that way about Christy even though they knew her.
“I do have a reason,” she snapped as soon as she could, though did sound a bit calmer this time. Looking the man up and down one quick time, Christy got up in a swift movement, bending down again to pick up the guitar. The man had burst her angry bubble of sitting down acting like a three-year-old, so Christy decided it was past time she moved around a little. “And I can’t play the guitar, otherwise I would have.”
She was not going to thank him for asking, even though his jawline made her want to, just to win him over. Hanging her bag over her shoulder, she surveyed him now when she stood.
“I’m Christy,” she said through pursed lips, making an eye-roll downwards and then up, to meet the man’s gaze. She didn’t know why she never looked at somebody when she said her name, but it made her annoyed with herself, so her usual scowl reappeared in her face right on time. “And my musician didn’t turn up on time. Actually he didn’t turn up at all.”
God, she wasn’t actually good at this. Making conversation. With strangers. Well, it wasn’t for lack of confidence. Whatever she did, Christy thought she did perfectly perfect. She didn’t budge. Just. Yeah.
(Source: christyrossi)
Can you play? // Christy & Stephen
stephenmorrison-rp:
Stephen was on his way to the store, ready to use the coupons he’d saved from last Sunday’s paper. He’d realized he was running low on, well everything, and wondered when he’d gotten so distracted. It wasn’t like him.
As he approached the store he saw a young woman sitting on the sidewalk in front of it, holding a guitar and looking angry. She wasn’t playing, so she probably wasn’t trying to get tips or something. Actually, he was sure of it, with the way she was glaring at everybody.
He almost walked by her, head down. But then rethought it. Maybe something was wrong, after all, and it seemed impolite to just ignore her.
“Um, hello,” Stephen said uncertainly, “Are you…alright?”
The longer she sat there, the more the guitar looked like it belonged connected with the curb of the pavement. Though her anger had somehow subsided (if that was even possible for Christy), she was still annoyed, folding her arms across her chest. When someone very gently seemed to speak to her, Christy’s eyes shot sharply up, and met… well, a rather handsome man’s eyes, which, to be fair, threw her off for about a few seconds, before she reassembled herself again.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, “do I look injured? Don’t put any money in the guitar, I’ll go through hell getting it out again, it’s so much fucking harder than people think.”
She eyed him up and down as sharply as she’d first looked at him, inevitably concluding that he was indeed very handsome. Reaching out with one small hand, she fiddled at the neck of the guitar, softly playing at a random string she couldn’t have identified even if she wanted to. Subconsciously she was, perhaps, making sure that nothing had happened to it, nor that he was about to reach out and put some money in it.
(Source: christyrossi)
