Come have a drink with John~

[drpsychosomatic]

WHO: Dr. John Watson and... you, if you like! As long as you are of legal age to drink, I guess.
WHERE: The most pub-looking bar John can find within a walkable radius of his flat
WHEN: After moving in with Sherlock to their new place in the City
WARNINGS: None really. John's a fairly well-behaved drunk. Mostly.
SUMMARY: John's scouting out a watering

Comments

[ofcompanyb]

How Blue got into this bar is something unknown - whatever way he managed, he's not telling. Instead he sits next to John, recognizing him from the chance meeting on the street. Surely, another Fable would understand his plight, right? He doesn't even really drink booze! Much.

Okay at all.

Sometimes.

Whatever.

Blue has, in his hand, a Roy Rogers and in his lap a trumpet case.

"Hello, Mr. Watson."

[drpsychosomatic]

John recognised Blue, of course, though it took him a moment to work out why his appearance set off alarms- something about not asking a question, if he remembered correctly. There was something he wasn't supposed to do around the guy.

"Blue, wasn't it?" he asked amicably. "Sorry, Sherlock's not around."

[ofcompanyb]

Blue shrugs. It's not really a big issue, because in Blue's mind, Watson is a Fable, too, and so he has some measure of trustworthiness. Of course, why they haven't come to Fabletown is a question too, because why wouldn't they? It's a safe place, even if they are planning on going to war.

Blue really hopes they're not on the Adversary's side, but he supposes if he's cautious, it can't hurt. "Well, I thought I would say hello anyway. Sometimes Sherlock can give me a little bit of a headache." It's the intense stare, really, like Blue is a puzzle.

[drpsychosomatic]

John laughs, taking a sip of his pint. Oh, does he sympathise.

"Yeah, he does that," he agrees, offering Blue a gently apologetic smile. Sometimes it feels like he spends half his life apologising for whatever it is Sherlock's done this time- but for whatever reason, he's never really minded. It's familiar, at least. Comfortable. "Think he likes it, too."

[ofcompanyb]

Blue cheers up quickly - despite his name he's often all smiles, even though there's no Fabletown here. It's New York, in some incarnation, and Blue loves the city, even if he's a bit alone. He's been lonely for two hundred years, he can deal with it.

"Do you like music? Oh, sorry, I guess you're not a Mr, you're a Dr, right? I'm really terrible with titles, and the last doctor who patched me up was good but he wasn't exactly approachable. Half the time I forget that Charming is a Prince."

[drpsychosomatic]

Doing his best to ignore everything the guy was saying that didn't make sense, he hits back another mouthful of beer before replying.

"John, please. Just John. I'm not exactly... up to date when it comes to music, but I like it all right. "

[ofcompanyb]

Blue is babbling a little - possibly because he's a little nervous, and also because there's a smokey little jazz club next door that agreed to let him play a little Chet Baker if he promised to stop making that sad face, and he hasn't performed in front of people (Stinky doesn't count, Stinky doesn't know music if it appeared to him and told him a bedtime story) in a while.

"I'm sort of stuck in the forties, you know," he says, as if it's not obvious. "I'm playing in a few minutes. Do you want to come listen?"

[drpsychosomatic]

"That- would be nice, actually," he admits. "It's been a while since I've seen anyone play live. Not counting Sherlock. He's brilliant, actually. Have you heard him?"

[ofcompanyb]

Blue shakes his head. "I would offer to play with him, but he plays the violin, right? It doesn't really pair well with the trumpet. But maybe...?" Blue tilts his head. "I'll buy you a drink over there, they let me have a tab even though they won't let me buy alcohol."

Blue finishes his drink and sets the glass down. "It'll be nice to see a friendly face in the audience."

[drpsychosomatic]

John nods, knocking back the rest of his beer.

"I doubt Sherlock plays well with others. All right. Where is this place?"

[ofcompanyb]

Blue's smile could light up a room as he stands and moves through the room. "It's right next door! Thank you so much, D--I mean, John."

He looks so much younger when he's happy, but that melancholy edge will be back in a moment, taking over his youthful face again.

[drpsychosomatic]

Almost a little uncomfortable with how obviously happy he's made him, John rubs at the back of his neck and shoots him a smile before following.

"It's fine. I needed to get out of the flat for a bit anyway."

[ofcompanyb]

Blue opens the door and steps out into the street, and a few short blocks down he opens another door.

The jazz club is smokey and quiet, right now. It's got the old wear of a place that has been there forever, slowly building layers of grime and smoke and the dust from many hands on the walls and the tables. The bouncer greets Blue with a dubious kind of hello - he may be the hired entertainment but the kid still looks like a kid.

Blue aims for a table in the corner.

"Here we go. I know it's not much but it's seriously the only place that would even consider me."

[drpsychosomatic]

John checks the place out as subtly as he can manage. It's got a very different atmosphere, but it's interesting, and interesting is good. He takes a seat with his back to the wall, facing the stage.

"That bad, is it? Because of your age?"

[ofcompanyb]

Blue opens his trumpet case and takes out his trumpet - it has survived many incarnations. In the case, under the panels, is also the Witching Cloak, folded up tight. Blue doesn't go anywhere without it.

"My age, my looks. It's hard to get in clubs when you look like you're-" Blue is interrupted by the manager nodding to the stage, and Blue gives John a shrug as an apology. "Hold on, okay?"

Blue climbs the tiny stage and introduces himself before he plays a sad, soft rendition of Almost Blue, the pianist doing remarkably well at keeping up. He plays another few songs, all along the same vein - sad and beautiful, the kind of blues that most sixteen year olds just cannot manage, before he comes back down and sits.

"Thanks for staying."

[drpsychosomatic]

John listened, of course- completely still with his eyes half-closed, letting the music surround him. It had been a while, but something about Blue's tone sank into his bones...

"No, not at all," he replied once Blue settled in the chair opposite, his voice sounding a little distant. "You're a fantastic player."