2014-05-16 Music, Media, and Mutancy
Players: Chamber, Loki, Phantasm
GMed by NA
Title: Music, Media, and Mutancy

With it being the latter portion of filming in London and the ambitious pace of the shoot schedule, Mike has found himself with some free time. And with the free time, he has, gotten more work by doing an impromptu music set at one of the local music pubs. The arrangement was so last minute that only the staff and those who have followed the pub on twitter or facebook had a chance of knowing. That said, the pub has become incredibly packed and plenty of drinks have been sold. Hair a bit wild, eyes lined with the appropriate level of makeup, and attire of a much higher, and yet darker quality, Nick Drago is very much present in the room as local musician friends have popped in as well to contribute to the cause, and their own pockets. But things have quieted down considerably since the begining of the set, as Nick is now seated at a standing piano, playing the last song of the evening.

Loki pops in, wearing a Midgardian T-Shirt with the chaos symbol commonly attributed to Loki on it, and a pair of black jeans that aren't /too/ loose. He has his hair pulled back into a ponytail and braid, and he's playing with his iphone as he enters the room. Unless opposed, he approaches the piano, his expression neutral. He hasn't smiled since Frigga's 'death'. Even though he found her on earth it seems to keep the wound open.

"It started so slowly, didn't see it come. The tears, the aching, and thoughts that scare some. Yes the feeling is seeping in, It's a pain deep within. We're not sure if we'll survive. This thing inside that thrives." Focused on performing and singing, Loki's approach goes unnoticed initially, "It builds until that won't do, this sickness residing in you. You're not sure how to keep it at bay, just need to know what to say-ay yay, hey."

As Nick plays, it becomes apparent just who in the crowds have heard the music before as they sing along to the chorus the first time through. But by the time the second chorus comes in, more join in, having already been introduced to those lyrics.

"One thing to ask, a tone demure. Raphael's flask, give me a cure."

Loki's approach is indeed impeded with the wall of pub patrons gathered about the stage area, several of those who have been here 'a while' lifting up their glasses as they sway with the piano and guitar music.

Loki shoulders his way through the crowd, then eventually just makes himself intangible with magic and walks right through them. That might be a bit freaky, but he isn't in the mood to try and push people out of the way.

"What is this instrument?" Loki asks, looking at the piano. "These people seem to be enthralled….or inebriated."

One of the sober patrons, most likely a designated driver for some group, that Loki comes up next to looks over at the Asgardian and then to what he's looking at. "What, the piano?"

"A saving grace. Perhaps that'll buy us awhile. Smiling. A smiling face. Time to give sickness denial." Nick's hands flick upon the keys as the music meets its ending with a trickle of notes. "Deprive. It's time to thrive. "

Song finished, there's a mix of responses. Some cheer, others swing their drinks up into the air, and others, well, they walk to the bar to get a head start on their next drink order.

Loki tries to ignore the words to the song itself, and looks to the person talking to him. "Yes, the piano. It is interesting that you are able to make music with it. We do not have pianos in Asgard." When the song is finished, he looks to Mike/Nick. "That was quite intriguing. I came to visit. Am I intruding? If so I will come back another time."

The final song finished, Nick's head turns away from the piano as the familiar voice addresses him. He gives a bit of a smile, "Nah, you're fine. Almost done." He gets up from the bench seat, giving a bit of wave to the audience along with the other musicians on stage, "Thank you! And to all the DDs out there, Thanks!" As the other musicians put their instruments up, Nick simply steps down, resting a hand to Loki's back as he gestures towards the back of the pub. "Owner's got a place set up in the back room for the performers. We can chat there for a bit."

"What's a DD?" Loki asks, allowing Mike/Nick to guide him now that he's tangible gain. "As you wish, that is fine with me. I don't want to intrude or interrupt. You are a good performer. I haven't seen you perform in that way before. How did you learn to play that instrument?"

"A designated driver." Mike answers, "When a group of people go to a place where there will be much drinking, one person of the group will abstain from drinking anything with alcohol in it so they will be able to drive the others home without the added risk of he driver being too drunk to drive properly. It's a practice that saves lives by not endangering them to begin with." He pauses to tug at a curtain, pulling it back to expose a doorway leading into a back room. Unlike the crowding in the front area, the room is depressingly empty of other people despite the availability of tables and chairs set up. Over to the side, a mirror hangs on the wall with one of the tables being taken by a bag resting on top. "And thanks. I like doing the acoustic performances as well. Much simpler and easier to setup."

"Oh. It is bizarre that you all drive individual chariots rather than travel together. I suppose mortals don't have the capacity for other transportation methods. It isn't a very big city, why do they not just walk? Why do you not do such performances more often to save you the trouble of setting up more equipment?"

"Most likely walked." Mike allows, "But there's always a few that have to take the car or just chose to…" He moves over towards the bag, opening it up, "Because acoustic shows, while easier to set up, are harder to hear in large venues with large amounts of people attending." He smiles, looking over to Loki, "And some people prefer more of the flash and the volume."

A (possibly) familiar head peeks into the performer's area from the path to the back entrance of the establishment. It's Jono… brown hair, black face-wrappings, and all. He offers a wave, and then steps into the performer's area proper. He's got his guitar case this time, too. It comes as probably no surprise that he doesn't say anything as he enters.

Mike pulls out a box from the bag, "Besides, you got to give the fans what t-" He pauses upon finding Loki no longer in the room, "Loki?" Seeing Jono come in, he lifts up his hand to give a wave to the musician before looking around once more. Huh. Must've been a short visit.

Jono also looks around, not seeing anyone. He places his guitar case against the wall and then taps in on his phone, 'Something wrong?'. He seems to have something a little more sophisticated than a notepad this time. It's an app on his phone. That says words. The that statement was spoken by his phone. Granted, it's in a computery-sounding voice. And also female. But it's easier than writing out everything on a piece of paper.

Determining that Loki has left, Mike's attention shifts over towards Jono, "Ah no. Just was talking to someone and it looks like they left when my back was turned." Opening the box, he tugs out a wipe before turning to the mirror.

Jono nods. The voice from his phone says, 'I hate it when that happens'. Pause, type type. 'I heard you out there. You're good'.

"Thanks." Mike replies, bringing the wet cloth up to his eyes, starting to wipe away at the makeup. "Hopefully I can maintain that opinion with the fans for the next album and then some."

Jono nods. 'Hope so,' the voice in his phone notes. 'They have another set coming up. They're going to let me play with the next band.' Which explains what he's doing here. And Mike has heard him play before, so he knows what Jono's going to be doing.

"That would explain the guitar case." Mike muses, setting aside a blackened wipe on the table. He eyes look a lot less defined now. Normal. "Maybe I'll stick around for a couple of songs. Though, I got to head back to the hotel. Technically on call tomorrow for any reshoots needing to be done." He turns back to the bag, rifling through the contents once more.

Jono nods. 'I saw the one scene.' No-brainer there, Mike saw him there. 'What's the name of the movie?' He pauses then, and realizes something. Hasty typing. 'If it's not too secret'.

"It's a movie adaptation of the book 'The Waves of the Phoenix'." Mike answers, pulling out a brush and a hair tie, "Something to take a girlfriend to."

Jono's eyes crinkle a little in amusement. 'Is that what they call a chick flick?' He doesn't seem to have as low an opinion of them as is often thought. Because he notes, 'You must have quite the female fan following. Or if you don't, you will once the movie comes out.'

"The perks of how the media portrays me I suppose," Mike replies with a shrug, "Girls love a bad boy." He starts working on his hair, "Hell, I could go out, save some elderly people and several kittens from a burning building and I'd still be labeled as such because of the shit we pulled during the Greysong days."

Jono nods. 'A saying I heard. When I'm right no one remembers. When I'm wrong, no one forgets.' He tilts his head to the right, and gives a shrug. Tap tap type, 'But what can you do, right?'

"Capitalize on what they remember." Mike replies matter of factly, giving a bit of a grin to Jono via the mirror's reflection. "All press is good press for the performer." He sweeps back the hair. "They think I'm bad, then so be it."

Jono's shoulders shake a little with amusement at the statement. It's true, and he knows it. He starts typing on his phone again… and then pauses. Suddenly the voice comes from elsewhere. A place that's unclear. What /is/ clear, is that it's resonating in Mike's head. .o(Be what they expect, eh? Easier for 'em t' accept.)o. It's a man's voice. Middle tenor range. And very, VERY British.

The brush swings down away from Mike's head as he turns around, "-bleedin' hell?" Mike's voice, while the same does slip into something mildly Irish. "That you?"

There's a noticeable reaction from Jono when Mike turns to look at him. Jono actually turns his head to look somewhere else, jamming his hands into his pockets. The placing of his hands into his pockets produces a slouch to his shoulders. And it also looks like the pose is familiar to him. .o(…Yeah. S'me. Thought I'd best get that outta the way first.)o.

Confirming the identity of the thought intruder, Mike relaxes somewhat. Somewhat. Not entirely. "So, does that mean you can go poking around in my head?" He squints his eyes, recalling the nastiest mental image he could think of, checking for a reaction.

Jono shakes his head. And sure enough, there's no reaction to whatever nasty mental image Mike came up with. Doesn't seem Jono saw it. .o(Nope.)o. He taps his temple. .o('M set t' send-only I think. I used t' hear others all the time, but I think I turned it off when I was eleven. Somehow. I can pick it up if yer thinkin' it /at/ me, but ya hafta really be thinkin' it at me. I can't go in yer head an' look for stuff.)o.

Mike relaxes a bit more at the double confirmation. "Oh good." He brings the brush up to his hair once more, "So what's that make you? Mutant or other?"

.o(Mutant,)o. Jono confirms. .o(I'm… well, not 'harmless', but I got no reason to hurt ya. I know all the tripe y' hear on the news. Most of it's not true, of most of us.)o.

As Jono tries to reassure the other musician, Mike's lip curls upwards in reaction before he snerks. "No one's 'harmless'. That's to be expected. Hell, if any of those guys blitzed out of their minds out there went driving, they'd be far from it. Don't take mutancy to cause grief for someone."

Believe it or not, this seems to put Jono further at ease. .o(Yeah. S'what people keep forgettin'.)o. There's a distinct note of wryness as he says the next, .o(B'sides, I can't get drunk anyway. There's a reason I hafta talk like this.)o. Jono's not about to tell Mike he's literally got a furnace in his chest, but he can at least allude to one issue it causes him.

"We all got our crosses to bear." Mike murmurs, using one hand to gather up the hair as it is brushed. "And I sure as hell know what it's like to have press exagerating the situation."

Jono nods. .o(The hate groups make it hard to trust people. S'why I didn't tell ya right from the off. Wasn't sure how you'd take it. Didn't want ya freakin' out in public.)o.

He quiets, though, as someone looks in from another door. "Hey, uh… you the mute bloke with the guitar?" Jono raises a hand. "It's almost time." Jono nods, and puts a hand up as a silent acknowledgement.

When the fellow leaves, he notes, .o(Welp. T' work with me.)o. Pulling the guitar from its case, he offers to Mike, .o(Take care, mate. An' good luck with yer movie.)o. Jono will wait long enough to make sure Mike heard him, and then head for the stage.


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