I know a room full of musical tunes
WHO: Pink Musician and Blue Fanboy
WHERE: Music shop, somewhere
WHEN: Tuesday afternoon
WARNINGS: I don't see why
SUMMARY: Rock star, meet rock enthusiast
FORMAT: Words
( Some rhyme, some ching, most of them are clockwork )
WHERE: Music shop, somewhere
WHEN: Tuesday afternoon
WARNINGS: I don't see why
SUMMARY: Rock star, meet rock enthusiast
FORMAT: Words
( Some rhyme, some ching, most of them are clockwork )
He'd tested it, to be sure that it worked and of course it had, considering it was him -- sort of -- that had built it. Everything Megamind made worked -- though sometimes...not in the way he predicted. It didn't matter how meticulously he laid his plans out, there was always something that went wrong, though that contributing factor replete with gold and white costume didn't happen to be present in the city right now.
Thank Zeus. He wasn't sure if he could handle the man coming back from the dead right now, regardless of what Roxanne had told him.
But -- he digresses. A sound system needs music and while there was quite the library already built up, you can never have enough.
Music stores around here had all the fixings, so he strolls in like he owns the place and contemplates simply dehydrating the employees and just taking what he wants, but Roxanne would be pissed and having your ladyfriend angry isn't something he wants to deal with.
So he doesn't dehydrate anyone, but he does pause at this man tuning a guitar.
"You hold that as if you know what you're doing."
Conversational, polite, even!
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He looks up from the bass, and gives a tired, but very confident grin. Good God, it's a young Bob Geldof! Wait, that doesn't make any sense, does it? "I'd bloody well hope so. Only been playing for half my life."
He starts to pick out a few notes, just playing around. Then trying out, why not, the bass line from 'Money.' Doesn't sound quite right, though. He hmns, and fiddles with the instrument a bit more.
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It just hadn't been a profitable endeavor for someone like him.
"Really." That had him pausing, peering down his nose. "Bit off, aren't you?"
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Better. But still not good enough for him. "No... bloody thing..."
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"Perfectionist, are you?"
He knows. He's meticulously thorough himself.
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"Dedicated. This is my life. I'm not gonna bloody half-ass it." And that includes not bothering with a touchy guitar, no matter how nice it might look. He scoffs and takes the instrument off, swapping it out for another one.
"You play?"
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"Excellent outlook." Truly, it is - it's Megamind's philosophy, in a way. If he's going to do something, it's going to be damn extravagant and one hell of a show.
"Not since I was a boy." Villainy didn't allow for things like playing.
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He tsks, when Megamind tells him he doesn't play. "Shame. You had a reason for giving it up?" Idle conversation, while he sets the new instrument up, and tunes it.
Once it's all set up, Pink plays the same notes again, and they do, in fact, sound far better on the new instrument. He hums his satisfaction, and moves smoothly from that to something else, new and improvised, treating that old, familiar bass line like it's his, something he came up with and is more than comfortable with altering.
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"I've always been a fan of the classics, though -- they just don't make music like they used to."
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"I was in seventy-seven, 'fore I ended up here. Been playing catch-up. There's some good stuff. None of it's on the radio, though."
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"Villain, usually. Though I find myself venturing into...other avenues lately."
Avenues that included Roxanne Ritchi and delectable New Years kisses.
"Wait -- seventy seven?" He has to stop his browsing of the store and come stand directly in front of the man.
"You're--telling me you came from right at the cusp of it all?"
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"Yeah?" No fear, there. In fact, just about the opposite. Curiosity. Enthusiastic interest. At least this beats him making small talk with Black Mask. "Really? And you're just telling me about it?"
The reaction to his point of origin is a fun one. He debates, briefly, whether or not to... you know, why not? "Me and my boys, we were the cusp. Much as that counts for, here." He slings the bass over his back, and offers a hand. "Floyd Pinkerton. Friends call me Pink."
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"Pinker--Floyd--seriously? Pink Floyd?" He's almost crowing. "Are you kidding, it counts for everything."
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This sort of enthusiasm is so much easier to deal with when it's in small doses. And when he hasn't had any in a while. "The same." Whether he's being recognised from the album, or just by band name, he'll take it. "Not what it seems like, hm? Had every bloody thing stole out from under me, when I got here... then I found out what they ended up doing with it, and that was worse."
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"That's fantastic, truly--" He's all aflutter, but oh Zeus he can relate.
"Oh, isn't it just the pits when that happens?" Still so bitter about Metro Man and That School Thing. He had his whole life stolen away by fate! Destiny! Tricky little minxes, they are...
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"Worse every bloody time," he agrees, obviously honestly commiserating. He's had his share of universal screwing-over, yes indeed. Some of it even isn't entirely his fault. "But I think I've got the last laugh. Fresh start. New tricks up my sleeve. And thirty years younger than any of them." Though that one is a little more uncomfortable to think about.
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