Auctions and Broken Vases - Chapter Three
Tittle: Auctions and Broken Vases - Chapter Three
POV: Third
Author: hilson_is_love
Pairing(s): Vam, slight Minde later on.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: April drags Bam to an auction. When the skater is intrigued by the Auctioneer's accent, he begins to pay attention...
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened. Bam is IN DENIAL.
A/N: Bam is sixteen in this. Forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. My beta's compy has come down with a virus.
Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/3283965.html?view=45417981#t45417981
Chapter Two: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/3286400.html?view=45466240#t45466240
A flurry of unstacked papers obscured their vision of the room for a moment and they waited until the papers settled before entering.
“Yo, Valo!” A tall man with long, dark hair and warm brown eyes ran up to greet them.
“This is Burton,” Ville grinned, hugging the slightly hyperactive man briefly around the shoulders. “He’s certifiably insane, but an amazing pianist. He organises our books.”
“Who’s your friend?” Burton chuckled.
“His name’s Bam, I caught him in the art room,” Ville replied.
Burton looked disapprovingly at Bam for a moment, and then grinned. “Going where you’re not meant to will mean you wind up like us.”
He waved his hand absently at the wreak of an office they stood in.
Bam smiled and inclined his head. Burton’s accent was strangely like the Auctioneer’s. Only, it was slightly stronger.
Ville moved away from Burton to show Bam the rest of the office, such as it was. The fifty-foot by fifty-foot space was tightly packed with piles of paper, overflowing filing cabinets and leather couches. The slightly acrid smell of cigarettes hung in the air.
“That’s Gas,” Ville said, indicating a podgy man with fine, blonde hair and a tangle of a beard sitting on a couch. “He writes up the receipts. And also plays drums like a madman.”
Gas looked up and waved politely.
They continued around the office.
“And, that, is Linde,” Ville giggled, pointing to what Bam had taken to be a statue. “Fantastic guitarist. Helps load things into people’s cars.”
A tall, thin man with bright grey eyes and waist-length dreadlocks, sitting in a corner, flashed a mouthful of teeth at them.
Bam smiled at Linde and nodded to Gas. “But who’s the Auctioneer?”
Ville grinned. “His name is Migè. He plays bass too.”
“What about you, Ville?” Bam asked. “You must do something around here…”
“That I do, Bam,” Ville smiled gently. “I sing. And I help with the estimates.”
Gas grinned. “If you couldn’t tell, Bam, we’re all in a band.”
Bam turned to Ville, his eyebrows raised. The vocalist had materialized a cigarette and was lighting it.
“Where are you guys from?” The skater asked. “Your accents are completely different.”
“Finland,” Ville replied, taking a drag from the cigarette.
Bam opened and closed his mouth a few times in disbelief before replying. “F-F-F-Finland? You mean, like, snow, ice, and cold, Finland?”
Ville chuckled. “The very same.”
Bam felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks at the dorky laughter. Ruthlessly, he stamped on the feeling. No! Bad Bam! You barely know the guy! For all you know, he might be an axe wielding manic, who just looks…like…he…was…carved…from…a cloud in Heaven…
“Bam, Bam,” Ville whispered, in an attempt to bring Bam out of his thoughts. “Bammie?”
The new nickname registered in Bam’s brain. Curiously, he looked up at Ville. “What did you call me?”
POV: Third
Author: hilson_is_love
Pairing(s): Vam, slight Minde later on.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: April drags Bam to an auction. When the skater is intrigued by the Auctioneer's accent, he begins to pay attention...
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, never happened. Bam is IN DENIAL.
A/N: Bam is sixteen in this. Forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. My beta's compy has come down with a virus.
Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/3283965.html?view=45417981#t45417981
Chapter Two: http://community.livejournal.com/__vam/3286400.html?view=45466240#t45466240
A flurry of unstacked papers obscured their vision of the room for a moment and they waited until the papers settled before entering.
“Yo, Valo!” A tall man with long, dark hair and warm brown eyes ran up to greet them.
“This is Burton,” Ville grinned, hugging the slightly hyperactive man briefly around the shoulders. “He’s certifiably insane, but an amazing pianist. He organises our books.”
“Who’s your friend?” Burton chuckled.
“His name’s Bam, I caught him in the art room,” Ville replied.
Burton looked disapprovingly at Bam for a moment, and then grinned. “Going where you’re not meant to will mean you wind up like us.”
He waved his hand absently at the wreak of an office they stood in.
Bam smiled and inclined his head. Burton’s accent was strangely like the Auctioneer’s. Only, it was slightly stronger.
Ville moved away from Burton to show Bam the rest of the office, such as it was. The fifty-foot by fifty-foot space was tightly packed with piles of paper, overflowing filing cabinets and leather couches. The slightly acrid smell of cigarettes hung in the air.
“That’s Gas,” Ville said, indicating a podgy man with fine, blonde hair and a tangle of a beard sitting on a couch. “He writes up the receipts. And also plays drums like a madman.”
Gas looked up and waved politely.
They continued around the office.
“And, that, is Linde,” Ville giggled, pointing to what Bam had taken to be a statue. “Fantastic guitarist. Helps load things into people’s cars.”
A tall, thin man with bright grey eyes and waist-length dreadlocks, sitting in a corner, flashed a mouthful of teeth at them.
Bam smiled at Linde and nodded to Gas. “But who’s the Auctioneer?”
Ville grinned. “His name is Migè. He plays bass too.”
“What about you, Ville?” Bam asked. “You must do something around here…”
“That I do, Bam,” Ville smiled gently. “I sing. And I help with the estimates.”
Gas grinned. “If you couldn’t tell, Bam, we’re all in a band.”
Bam turned to Ville, his eyebrows raised. The vocalist had materialized a cigarette and was lighting it.
“Where are you guys from?” The skater asked. “Your accents are completely different.”
“Finland,” Ville replied, taking a drag from the cigarette.
Bam opened and closed his mouth a few times in disbelief before replying. “F-F-F-Finland? You mean, like, snow, ice, and cold, Finland?”
Ville chuckled. “The very same.”
Bam felt a slight blush rise in his cheeks at the dorky laughter. Ruthlessly, he stamped on the feeling. No! Bad Bam! You barely know the guy! For all you know, he might be an axe wielding manic, who just looks…like…he…was…carved…from…a cloud in Heaven…
“Bam, Bam,” Ville whispered, in an attempt to bring Bam out of his thoughts. “Bammie?”
The new nickname registered in Bam’s brain. Curiously, he looked up at Ville. “What did you call me?”