[Music. She hears it. Stray stops dead in her tracks, ears panning to find where it is coming from. After a brief pause she jumps into a nearby shadow, reappearing in front of Scott, tail poofed ever so slightly. She stares at him, head quirked.]
[Puzzled by the strange appearance of the girl(?) now standing before him, Scott is a bit slow at answering before finally snapping to and giving her the courtesy of replying.]
"Uhh.. *AHEM* Uh yeah! That was me. You here for band auditions?"
[Nope. She has no idea what you're talking about, but you made pretty music. Not as good as hers, of course, but nice all the same. Stray leaps forward until her nose is inches from his, staring with her single visible eye deep into his own. Then her attention shifts to the instrument he's holding. Someone mentioned something like this before...]
{Well, cue the bright, red blush across his cheeks now that he's been mere inches away from the girl's face. Coming to again, Scott strums a few chords on the guitar.]
"Uh-Y-Yeah! This is a guitar I found. Pretty neat grab, yeah?"
"Heh, sorry! But you know me. When I'm doing something for the girl I love, I'm always short of breath because well.. ya' know.. you take my breath away."
[Corney? Yes. Kinda' lame? You bet. Romantic and hero like?
"Yeah, back home at least. I figure if I start another one here it might help move things along. Ya' know, bring people together and fight the good fight."
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...Music. You?
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"Uhh.. *AHEM* Uh yeah! That was me. You here for band auditions?"
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[Nope. She has no idea what you're talking about, but you made pretty music. Not as good as hers, of course, but nice all the same. Stray leaps forward until her nose is inches from his, staring with her single visible eye deep into his own. Then her attention shifts to the instrument he's holding. Someone mentioned something like this before...]
Oh! Guitar, yes?
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"Uh-Y-Yeah! This is a guitar I found. Pretty neat grab, yeah?"
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[Corney? Yes. Kinda' lame? You bet. Romantic and hero like?
Hell yes.]
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[She's totally kidding with him.]
"I'll make a late dinner, since you don't know how long you'll be out. Any requests?"
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[Scott's scratching the back of his head, all awkward like.]
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Drums it is!"
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. . . The hell was that supposed to be?
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"What was WHAT supposed to be?"
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[King douchebag at your service.]
Or can you not because even you don't know what it was?
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Scott Pilgrim's the name. And whom do I owe the displeasure of serving the illest tunes?"
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