Setting II ○ Relationship VIIIbutwedonotAugust 13 2011, 13:11:30 UTC
[ Charles' fingers tapped down on the ivory with nothing short of deft talent. He was settled behind a classic black, and obviously well cared for, parlor piano. The music trembled form the keys and filled the room, accompanied by a record that was settled not too far off. Usually there was an entire band playing, but this evening it was a more private affair and only the favored piano player was there. He glanced away from the keys, an easy task as he required no sheet work, watching the mingling figures in the crowd. Obviously some sort of big deal was going down this evening, just the fact there was less than fifty people in the speakeasy and he'd gotten a warning to be exceptionally cordial to anyone who came in. ]
[ With the wide-brimmed fedora pulled low over his eyes, Erik sits in the corner of the bar-- he eyes the crowd, a trail of smoke snaking from between his lips. The piano player has had his distracted attention for the moment; but the appreciatively lingering glance is tempered when he turns to speak to one of the assembled associates-- talking in a low growl. They've got a shipment of whiskey coming into the docks tomorrow; and it's taking most of his considerable influence with the New York State Police to pull strings here; and to boot, there's been a detective on his trail for the past few months-- nothing of any considerable worry, yet, though he's had enough of the tommy-gun-toting car chases around the downtown back alleys.
The flick of his chin sends the man away; back outside to stand at the door-- revolver in hand. With his attention focused again on the piano player, the song ends-- and Erik lets a slow smile curl his mouth. ] Play it again, Sam. [ He quotes, with an arched eyebrow, room falling somewhat silent when he
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[ His head snaps to the side at the sudden voice above the others. For a second he simply stares, surprised someone would talk over the crowd, but the moment he notes the mans position and the way others observed him he decided he was probably serious business. He gives a short, curt nod and then slides his fingers back up a chord before going back into the same song he had just been playing. He was supposed to be on break-- but he had a feeling this man wasn't the sort that took too well to being ignored. ]
Mhm. [ He continued to play the tune, all the while eyeing the bar. ]
[ He meets the bright stare with one of his own-- pale eyes and a flash of teeth, He gets up then-- picking the tumbler of scotch up off the curved counter of the bar and stepping over towards the piano. He casts one more quick look over the patrons, all carefully picked associates that he's chosen to involve. But business and pleasure have never been mutually exclusive with the type of business that Erik's used to-- they were outside the law, outside the established circles. He could do what he wanted. Erik leans his elbow against the finely polished black surface-- he dips his head to smile at the man, speaking over the music. ]
You always worked here? [ The quirk of an eyebrow accompanies the look. It's not their usual haunt, of course, hired mainly for the location in relation to the docks this evening-- and he'd have noticed a face like that earlier, surely. But there's a familiarity there, when he looks again, uncertain of where he might have glimpsed it. ] I'm sure I've seen you around.
Not always, [ He admits, eyes having followed his approach for the most part. It wasn't what he had expected to hear, and for that he was grateful. A soft shrug, or as much of one as he can give while his fingers still bounce across the keys. The melody changes to something a little easier simply because talking and playing at the same time might cause him to screw up and he was decently sure that wouldn't bode well with the speakeasy's owner. ] But for a while, maybe seven or eight months? [ He takes a moment to catalogue the man, his clothes and attitude speaking volumes his words did not. ]
You might have-- I've been around much more since the other player quit. [ Or died. Or... something. She just never came back one day and Charles' wasn't dumb enough to ask about it. ] I also work in the used bookstore on fourteenth but-- [ He cuts himself off before he can say something stupid like, 'You don't really seem like the book type' and instead says, ]-- I would remember if I had seen you there, we mostly get regulars.
[ The man has an undoubtedly deft touch with the piano-- and Erik pauses to listen, before dragging his gaze back to the blue eyes. He removes his hat, setting it down on the closed lid of the instrument. Leaning against the side of the thing, a toothy smile takes over the mobster's face-- not quite unhinged, but it's edgy-- like he's not so much smiling out of genuine friendliness or humor, more out of the wolfish need to bare teeth-- a threat to the room, and to the patrons. It's turned on Charles. ] Can't say I remember where-- just that you look familiar. You wouldn't happen to be a cop on the side, would you? [ He laughs, but only once-- and studies the man's face closely, as if trying to place it. In this day and age, a familiar face was never truly a welcome sight-- and Erik's been jumpy lately, with the threat of the authorities-- or someone so close on his tail. ]
[ His countenance changes from threatening to friendly as if on a passing whim-- his posture loosens instantaneously, elbow propped on the piano to allow him to
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pretend the typewriter is a piano >>butwedonotAugust 14 2011, 20:35:58 UTC
[ He stares back, but if he were meant to be intimidated he hasn't quite figured that out yet; instead a smile is offered in return, light and friendly in contrast to Erik's predatory one. ] Yes, I'm a cop that also has time to run a book store and play piano six days a week. [ A light laugh as he shakes his head a bit, eyes drifting to the keys to make sure he's changed to the proper chord before back up to him again. His smiles over but perhaps a bit sly, ] Besides, I doubt anyone with a badge would be foolish enough to come here; don't you think? [ A quick glance around the room, noting some of the people he had only heard about. ] Quite a scary lot, if I say so myself.
Yes, I quite like books-- however books do a poor job of paying the rent. [ Another little laugh, ] Fortunately for me, I like piano too, and seem to do a well enough job to get paid for it. [ A soft 'hmm' noise passes his lips before he cants his head to the side. ] I find it's handy to make time for a good book, it's soothing, and one can never really know too
( ... )
You would be surprised, the situations that detectives and cops can worm their ways into. Lately I've been having a particular amount of trouble with them, so excuse my reluctance to believe you. [ He can always have the man's story checked out, so that's not something that's particularly in question for him at this point. The fact that he's not at all worried by the attention from Erik-- or at least shying away in polite fear-- has piqued his interest considerably. It's not that often that he meets an openly friendly individual-- though there's still a side of suspicion on his part. The other does certainly seem to have a talent regarding music, and Erik can appreciate an affinity for the arts; he's nothing if not a cultured man. ]
[ Erik flashes him a quick grin. ] Though, I'd be willing to keep you here based on your talent alone. You have quite the ear. [ There's a jump of his eyebrows-- an appreciative quirk, and he tilts his head. ]
That's fine. [ He shrugs, as if not at all bothered by this prospect. ] You don't have to believe me. [ He taps the keys in a little staccato, almost teasing with the tell of the ivories before he slides back to the melodic tone that he had left a moment before. ]
Would you? How kind. [ He slides his fingers along the keys slowly, almost putting a soothing blanket over the bar. ] I do enjoy playing here so I appreciate you not getting me fired. [ The boss, his boss, wasn't always the best person to work for; but it was one of the few places he could play what he liked most of the time and usually got left alone. ] Can I ask your name? Since you're loitering here, I figure it might only be polite. [ A beat. ] I'm Charles.
A pleasure. [ Erik intones evenly. ] And of course you can, I’m Erik. Erik Lehnsherr. [ And usually, that alone would be enough to send most rational men skittering across the bar, with a polite excuse in order to cut short the conversation. Though he’s casual around Charles now-- leaning against the instrument with a certain amount of rakish ease, cigarette angled from the side of his mouth like a figure straight out of a Hollywood set. ]
So-- you just play the piano here, hmm? Not at all involved with the scene itself? [ He seems slightly incredulous at that, because most people could only ever associate with these sorts of people if they were actually in business with them-- outsiders were mistrusted, as well as disliked-- and it’s an intriguing thing, to meet someone entirely separate from the gang activities. ]
[ His unasked question was answered when the man offered up his name, Erik Lehnsherr, notorious really; Charles was well aware enough of who he was. He could understand some of the stories he had heard now, but Charles was a little more oblivious to the common tales of being intimidated. He may be a powerful man, but Charles hardly felt he was in any situation to be worried; or that's what his continued light expression said. ]
Got it in one, [ He presses his foot down on the peddle lightly. ] Boss likes me well enough and I keep to myself; besides, he lets me play what I like and no one seems to care so long as other people can't hear their conversations. [ A small, almost sly quirk to his smile. ] It's a win-win, I suppose. Finding a job is hard enough, I'll take what I can get.
[ The patrons are starting to dwindle; after all-- the night had gone well, all the deals were done and the organization for the latest shipment had been sorted out. He'd paid off the required cops, too. Erik smiles at Charles, plucking his had off the piano-top, and settling it back on his head with a wily grin. ] Well, we're in a depression-- I would not blame a man like yourself from taking what he can get. I'm quite the same. [ And he's done well because of it; taking the opportunities that have been set out in front of him-- and possibly initiating several assassinations on the way there; Erik's never been afraid to pull out a gun and do the dirty work himself; and it's part of the reason he's respected in the mafia's ranks-- he's as much one of them as any other-- vicious when he needs to be, matching it only with his charm. ]
So, Charles. Your shift ends soon, I suppose? [ Erik asks with a smooth-talking kind of tone, never quite managing to be sleazy-- he's too calculated for it, too underhanded. ]
[ He shrugs softly, looking around the bar again as if counting the patrons this time before back to Erik with a bit of a sigh. ] Technically yes, though usually I'm asked to stay till everyone else leaves-- [ He glances toward the main office, a bite to the inside of his cheek as he keeps back whatever was going to come next and looks back to the Mafia member. ] Why do you ask? [ And the question is posed as innocuously as one can manage, seeing as mob men hardly took kindly to having their motives questioned-- he had learned that the first night on the job and almost ended up floored because of it. ]
No reason, particularly. [ He pauses for a moment, adjusting the brim of his hat, the one end tilting just a little roguishly over one eye, and giving him the distinct air of an Italian mobster. ] I think I'm obligated to buy you a drink, after all, you're not a police officer. [ And he likes the look of him, the talent, the distance from this crowd of men-- it's a refreshing change; someone with culture-- an interest in literature, if the bookstore is something to go by. As always he'll attempt to be cautious, but he's become too arrogant for real caution. ]
Unless you're obliged to be somewhere else? [ He leans both elbows on the piano, getting a proper look at the other man's face. ]
[ There's an interesting lift to his brow but no protest at the idea of a free drink-- he was curious if the man was aiming at being charming or suspicious. Probably both. The phrasing made him wonder if this was some sort of a test-- not that he cared. It would do him no harm to have a drink; provided Erik didn't intend to poison him-- though that would pose a challenge as he's quite friendly with the bartender, Armando; still, he would keep a wary eye on his hands. ]
No obligation elsewhere, provided you don't ruin the polish on my piano and make me spend the evening repairing it. [ It's a little bratty, but obviously well intentioned; a warning joke at worst, especially considering the laughter that comes afterwards, punctuated by a few strikes to the ivorys. ]
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The flick of his chin sends the man away; back outside to stand at the door-- revolver in hand. With his attention focused again on the piano player, the song ends-- and Erik lets a slow smile curl his mouth. ] Play it again, Sam. [ He quotes, with an arched eyebrow, room falling somewhat silent when he ( ... )
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Mhm. [ He continued to play the tune, all the while eyeing the bar. ]
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You always worked here? [ The quirk of an eyebrow accompanies the look. It's not their usual haunt, of course, hired mainly for the location in relation to the docks this evening-- and he'd have noticed a face like that earlier, surely. But there's a familiarity there, when he looks again, uncertain of where he might have glimpsed it. ] I'm sure I've seen you around.
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You might have-- I've been around much more since the other player quit. [ Or died. Or... something. She just never came back one day and Charles' wasn't dumb enough to ask about it. ] I also work in the used bookstore on fourteenth but-- [ He cuts himself off before he can say something stupid like, 'You don't really seem like the book type' and instead says, ]-- I would remember if I had seen you there, we mostly get regulars.
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[ His countenance changes from threatening to friendly as if on a passing whim-- his posture loosens instantaneously, elbow propped on the piano to allow him to ( ... )
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Yes, I quite like books-- however books do a poor job of paying the rent. [ Another little laugh, ] Fortunately for me, I like piano too, and seem to do a well enough job to get paid for it. [ A soft 'hmm' noise passes his lips before he cants his head to the side. ] I find it's handy to make time for a good book, it's soothing, and one can never really know too ( ... )
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[ Erik flashes him a quick grin. ] Though, I'd be willing to keep you here based on your talent alone. You have quite the ear. [ There's a jump of his eyebrows-- an appreciative quirk, and he tilts his head. ]
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Would you? How kind. [ He slides his fingers along the keys slowly, almost putting a soothing blanket over the bar. ] I do enjoy playing here so I appreciate you not getting me fired. [ The boss, his boss, wasn't always the best person to work for; but it was one of the few places he could play what he liked most of the time and usually got left alone. ] Can I ask your name? Since you're loitering here, I figure it might only be polite. [ A beat. ] I'm Charles.
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So-- you just play the piano here, hmm? Not at all involved with the scene itself? [ He seems slightly incredulous at that, because most people could only ever associate with these sorts of people if they were actually in business with them-- outsiders were mistrusted, as well as disliked-- and it’s an intriguing thing, to meet someone entirely separate from the gang activities. ]
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Got it in one, [ He presses his foot down on the peddle lightly. ] Boss likes me well enough and I keep to myself; besides, he lets me play what I like and no one seems to care so long as other people can't hear their conversations. [ A small, almost sly quirk to his smile. ] It's a win-win, I suppose. Finding a job is hard enough, I'll take what I can get.
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So, Charles. Your shift ends soon, I suppose? [ Erik asks with a smooth-talking kind of tone, never quite managing to be sleazy-- he's too calculated for it, too underhanded. ]
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Unless you're obliged to be somewhere else? [ He leans both elbows on the piano, getting a proper look at the other man's face. ]
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No obligation elsewhere, provided you don't ruin the polish on my piano and make me spend the evening repairing it. [ It's a little bratty, but obviously well intentioned; a warning joke at worst, especially considering the laughter that comes afterwards, punctuated by a few strikes to the ivorys. ]
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