when by now and tree by leaf

[hey_capn_jack]

04:00 - In the Kashtta Tower, soft music is floating from the piano room tucked back by the cursed hallway.

It's not terribly good music.

J picked his way through a primer someone had left on their piano, and is now demonstrating minimal proficiency at having memorized any of the songs. He can pretty reliably hit the first few bars of Ode to Joy

Comments

[wedontjump]

To be perfectly honest, Annie has mostly tried to avoid J in the time she's been in Chicago. Mostly this is because she never really knew Jack and there are all those awkward things that happened that she was only ever tangentially involved in, and she figures it's probably best to just steer clear and not have to worry about it.

But she follows the pitiful (and slightly painful) sounds of someone poking at the piano. She's no musician, but she took lessons as a child, and that makes her want to find the poor soul who apparently can't play.

"It helps if you stick to one song, you know," she comments from the doorway with a slight smile.

[hey_capn_jack]

Somehow, J manages to find his way back to Middle C. Whether or not that's where he's supposed to end up is an open question. "But then I would have to stick to one song," he says, a very slight dry smile gracing his expression at that advice. "Maybe even follow the music."

He turns, taking in the new person and tilting his head. Familiar, but not someone he can place until--

Aha. Annie. He'd encountered her in Manchester, though only briefly, and if it hadn't been for Sam he'd have had no reason to hang onto her face at all. Even looking up her files through Torchwood was years ago and a universe away. Recognizing her, of course, and recognizing exactly what connections led him to recognize her, starts a pinball of emotional reactions going in the back of his mind, all of which eventually settle down into a vague ...wait for orders? directive that requires no immediate reaction on his part

[wedontjump]

"You'd be surprised how much fun it can be. Opens the doors to recitals, sing-alongs..." She's teasing a bit, and wanders in fiddling with her bracelet. She knows who he is, obviously, but she's not sure what she thinks of him.

She tries to save her opinions for when she actually has the information to form them.

"Neither, really," she says with a bit of a shrug. "The first day or two after a nice stroll in the sunshine, I don't really get tired. Was a bit odd, the first few times, but I'm used to it now." She tilts her head a bit. "What about you?"

[hey_capn_jack]

That gets a low chuckle, and J picks out the first few notes to Mary had a little lamb with his index finger. "Not sure I'm quite the recital type," he says. "...and I'm not sure anyone else in the building is the sort for singalongs. As for me, I don't sleep." He shrugs. "Sooner or later I'm sure I can get this to produce music for me."

"This" is accompanied by a wave at the piano like it's some sort of alien technology. His head is tilted a bit, watching her - he recognizes that recognition, but he's not going to push the issue if she's not.

[jiiiii]

It is not surprising that there is a Matoi. It's really never surprising when there's a Matoi anymore, even if she's been utterly silent and basically invisible until she speaks.

"You'd think it would be easier to get off this cold outside," she says, shivering. She's wearing tights and a long jacket, but none of her clothes are really conducive to the insanity that is Chicago in winter. "Or dead."

She looks up at her breath on the air and then just watches him with wide eyes as he struggles with the thing.

[der_weevilkonig]

"I think it's frozen to the... thing," Owen says. "And I forgot to bring my battery-powered hairdryer." He gives up on the vacuum for a moment, looking at Matoi. "I don't suppose you'd happen to have one of those?"

His tone says that, while he might have certain questions about that, it also wouldn't really surprise him.

[jiiiii]

Matoi shakes her head slowly at the question, and internally berates herself for having forgotten the battery-powered hairdryer. She will have to do better next time. "No, but I do have a lot of glove warmers, on me," she says after a moment of thinking and starts fumbling through her purse. "I mean, those won't screw it up more than a hairdryer, will they?"

Hairdryer will be added to the list of things that need to remain in her purse at all times, just in case.

After a moment, she hands a couple of glove warmers to Owen. "I'll remember to bring the hairdryer next time we go out."

[der_weevilkonig]

"Probably won't fuck it up any more than waiting for spring," Owen grumps. "Forget the haridryer. Some kind of laser saw might be better. Just take home the whole piece."

Because no one's going to care if they deface public property in order to collect samples of Stuff What Fell Through The Rift It's Chicago. Public property is practically self-defacing.

[consumesflesh]

Sunshine thinks it's wicked awesome that she found a broken down car by the road that doesn't even look like a scrapper. She's driven past it three times already, to see if someone's wandering looking for a tow truck or something. But no. It's still there. Abandoned. It would be wrong of her not to touch it. Someone needs to touch it.

The hood is up. She could look at it and try to pretend she knows things about cars and stuff. Hey, if she wrecks it further, who's going to pin it on her? It's only a bit of fun.

So the fourth time she passes the TARDIS, she pulls over to the side of the road, gallumphing forward. "Ohhh I'll have a little bit of a looksie under this here hood now won't I?" she asks, looking to the side as if she were addressing someone next to her. She giggles softly, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Now, Jeanie, I don't understand how you manage to break down this often. Why won't you just let me drive?"

[alt_tardis]

TARGET ACQUIRED.

...target is already talking to a nonorganic... something! The TARDIS scans, but comes up with nothing - doesn't mean whatever-she's-talking-to's not sentient or extant. Could just mean it's a quit sort of soul.

:: is.greeting{"Hello"} !! ::, she transmits at Sunshine and the general vicinity. :: is.problem{'brokensad'} ?? ::

[consumesflesh]

Sunshine is talking to herself because sometimes it's just fun. However, she doesn't ever expect people to talk back. And this isn't the right--

Something.

Trying to figure out what's going on and not freak out, she drops her pack of cigarettes, leaning over to pick it up.

"Well, yeah, the car's broken, I mean," she says, scanning around, trying to find the source of the. Something. "I-- I won't touch it. Then. I get it."

[alt_tardis]

:: !! :: The TARDIS's headlights flash in what she hopes is a reassuring range of visible light. :: !is.intended{reaction{alarm}} !! :: She straightens out her wheel, and the hood thunks shut. :: is.entity{'TARDIS'} !! ; idiomatic-greeting == "Nice to meet you" !! ::

Trust the talking car, Sunshine! She only wants to be your friend!

[diatomic_life]

It's been a long time since Kat has had anything to eat. Ohhhh so long. She was just going to pop in and get a hamburger and fries, but then there are fries flying at her. She has not been aware enough of her surrounding in a long time to deal with this.

She frowns, leaning over and picking up the croquet mallet.

"Are you going to eat this?" she asks Malek, studying the decoration idly. She doesn't mean the mallet; logically she's referring to the french fries. It's kind of hard to tell though, considering her attention has been completely distracted by croquet mallet. "Because I mean, you're just going to bleed all over it and it's a perfectly good meal and I really don't have to wait on a waitress or anything to get food. I mean, sure, patience, whatever, I should have it and stuff, but I'm starving and if you're just going to go jump right back through that window it would be a sin to ignore the food."

She pauses, holding the croquet mallet forward, as if it were an offering of some sort. "Bash long and prosper?"

[homoraptor]

Wat? Wat? ...maybe the Rift made her a mallet-eating fiend? MALEK DOESN'T JUDGE. It takes him a moment to work out exactly what she's saying, which is probably some form of karmic retribution.

"...ja, whevver rocks t'boat, hhnh?" he says, and then accepts the mallet she apparently decided not to eat. After a moment he tilts his head at her, starting to grin "Sin t'ignore good fight, though; don't want in?"

[diatomic_life]

It's almost tempting. Kat's been full of lots of crazy lately. Well, she's still full of crazy; she's just been able to syphon some of it off since she finally got out of the den. Oh, oh, she'll be going back there but first she has hamburgers and things to conquer because bypassing the gastric system forever is a bad idea.

"But I don't exactly fight fair," Kat explains, shrugging. "I mean, I don't fight with my fists or a weapon. I more you know, am the kill everyone in the building type?" When she says it like that, it's easy to write off as a joke. "And that's no fun for anyone but me and you've got a wicked awesome mallet. So I've got a better idea. How about you beat the shit out of someone while I eat your french fries? That way, everyone gets to have fun and I get fed. I'm not so good at the actual brawl-type of fighting, so it's probably a good idea for me to take a step back or two or something. ...something."

[homoraptor]

"Aah." Malek's grin becomes a bit wider and more face-eaty. "Knew Rak or two like that. ...really, most Raks. Comes in coolbloods too?"

He spins the mallet, sizing her up. Who knows! Wholesale slaughter. Could be fun. He was always more the "trash the place" sort, but hey, so long as it doesn't get back to the boss-

And then there's some guy, less drunk than belligerent, throwing open the door and looking incensed. "What, you want me to come out here? You want me to show you what a fight looks like,fag?"

Malek looks at him. Looks at Kat again. Shrugs.

"Ja, bring't, pretty boy," he says, hefting the mallet. The mallet's gonna have a good time tonight.

[superiorspectre]

It's four in the morning, and Suzie's still not sleeping. She'd had much the same idea as J, actually, for all that she knows one entire song, and she'd felt the need to do something with herself.

The truly sad attempt at playing makes her feel much better about her own still not quite perfect rendition of Cohen's "Hallelujah", and is enough to make her curious about who's playing at this hour. When she reaches the door and finds out it's J, however, she has to bite back the urge to laugh.

So there's something he doesn't do well. That's reassuring.

She'll just be leaning in the doorframe, with an expression which can best be translated as, Seriously?

[hey_capn_jack]

J feels that Look, Suzie. He feels it in his soul.

However, this is a good day, or a few days after a good day, and Suzie's silent implied mockery cannot possibly bring him down today. ...simultaneously, this is a terrifying day, his entire world's careened madly out of his control, he has no idea how to cope with it, and Suzie's silent implied mockery loses a bit of its edge in that maelstrom.

How this translates to him sitting here, picking out broken little ditties on the Kashtta's Christmas piano, is possibly best left unexamined.

"What?" he says, after mostly not failing to play the last half of Little Brown Jug. "Old dog, new tricks, thought it might not be too late to give it a try."

[superiorspectre]

Suzie mocks out of love, J. Love and inherent bitchiness.

"I'd had the same idea, a while ago," she informs him. "I did make an effort to learn an entire song, though."

And then, before she can consider the repercussions of her words, because it's four in the morning, and she was about to have a musical wallow anyway (going to the room where you first played a certain song and then ended up snogging your missing biffle so you can play that song again is the best way of coping with things, really), she finds herself saying, "I could teach you that one, if you'd like. Assuming you're not inherently opposed to Cohen."

[hey_capn_jack]

"Interesting man to spend a weekend with," he says. "Didn't come out with any particular opinions of him as a person, though. Warhol, now, plenty of stories I could tell about him." He stops butchering whatever it is he's butchering and turns, jabbing a finger in Suzie's direction. "Painting. There's something I never considered, either."

And something which would likely end in results just as... messy. Except those, he'd have to clean up through actual effort on his part, rather than just taking his hands away from the keys.