(Untitled)

[song_n_dance]

After the war was over, Cole had often told people at parties that he'd served in the French Foreign Legion, which an outright lie (though he told the story with such playfulness that he couldn't imagine anyone believed it anyway), even if he did have a number of fancy dress uniforms tucked away in a closet that were fun to trot out on occasion.

Comments

[patriotqueen]

The rec room had a musician in it and therefore Guy expected some good music to come from it. He had therefore not announced his entrance to the room - let the artist be the artist. However, it did not seem to be the case. "Catchy lyrics," Guy remarked as he picked up a book.

[song_n_dance]

"Guy, it is very unkind of you to mock my current predicament," Cole scolded, though he didn't seem terribly upset by it.

[patriotqueen]

"Pray tell, what is your current predicament?" Guy replied, entirely unaffected by the chiding tone.

[song_n_dance]

To be honest, Cole was a little annoyed that it wasn't big news by now, his being shot and all. Did this sort of thing happen around here often?

He gestured the sling around his left arm. "I think I would have preferred a bullet in the leg, given the choice."

[patriotqueen]

It was all in the definition of news. And often, for that matter.

But it was then that Guy noticed it, since before the view to Cole's arm had been blocked by the rest of him. "Has that been by that same murderer, or did someone get highly annoyed by your playing?" But in truth, he was quite annoyed by the whole buggering fact.

[song_n_dance]

Cole quirked a smile at that. "As aware as I am that my music may inspire homicidal tendencies in some, I am afraid that this time I was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I suppose I'm lucky that I escaped with my life."

[patriotqueen]

Guy smiled back. "It's fucking disgusting," he then said, suddenly serious, referring to the events and not the arm. Not surprising, but definitely disgusting.

[song_n_dance]

"Yes," Cole said, suddenly just as grave, "it is at that."

Then he cleared his throat, because Cole was never comfortable being grave for very long. "I don't suppose you play?" he offered hopefully, gesturing to the keyboard with his good hand.

[patriotqueen]

"It's bloody arrogance, that's what it is," Guy continued, but the graveness dissapeared like snow before the sun as he sat down. "A bit." It came with education and not with choice.

[song_n_dance]

"Excellent," Cole said cheerfully. "Then you can give me a C minor chord progression while I work out this melody, hmm?"

[patriotqueen]

Guy snorted amusedly and nodded. "You wouldn't happen to have a fag on you, would you?"

[song_n_dance]

Cole reached into his breast pocket with his good hand and pulled out the silver cigarette case. He opened it, displaying the contents. "Two left," he said. "And I'm willing to sacrifice one for my art. What do you say you play with me for a few minutes first and then we go smoke these together?"

[patriotqueen]

Guy smirked a well-known smirk. "Sounds like a very good idea." If smoking was only part of it. "C-minor you said?"

[song_n_dance]

"Mmmhmm." Cole waited for him to hit the first chord, the picked out the beginning of a melody, singing softly. "Love for sale..." The chord changed. "Appetizing young love for sale..." And again. "Love that's fresh and still unspoiled..." And once more. "Love that's only slightly soiled..." And back to the original chord. "Love for sale..."

He turned and smirked at Guy. "That's what I'm working on. Only the verses are giving me fits."

[patriotqueen]

And obviously Guy wasn't going to tell the man he knew the song. It was actually rather amusing to see the writer struggle with the words when the words were so familiar to him.

He smiled instead. "A song about a brothel? What will your country think of you?"

[song_n_dance]

Cole chuckled. "That's exactly what Linda said. She thinks it'll cause quite the scandal... it would have, perhaps. Though I suppose I don't have to worry about that here, hmm?" After all, he'd heard some of the profanity spewing from the jukebox.