My window's painted shut

[panspermia]

Who: Greg Universe and OPEN
What: You gotta appreciate the little things when you've made it big
When: Late March
Where: Various Places Around Vista City
Warnings: nah

A. OPEN

It's been a while since Greg's hung around in the Virgo common spaces; he often holes himself up in the Virgo penthouse, but he's trying to get himself back in the songwriting groove with different workspaces than his room. He hasn't been nearly as productive lately--his career and band is the last truly solid thing he feels like he can protect, so he can't keep letting himself wallow.

Piles of crumpled paper strewn around him are a good indicator of how that's turning out. Greg raps his pen rapidly against his notebook, frustrated and tired. Everything feels stilted and forced. Why is it suddenly so hard to feel passionate about things?

B. OPEN

When it comes to museums, Greg prefers natural history over art, but the public archives in the lower levels of Virgo are pretty pleasant to hang around and people watch. He appreciates the displays of musical history as something largely separate from everything else here.

He might be appreciating it a little loudly. Sorry, he has trouble not air guitaring or humming along when he's got headphones on. Like this is a music museum, it's okay to be loud here, right? Yeah?

C. OPEN

With the first days of spring, Vista has gotten its first real bouts of warm weather in months. Even with the ground still wet from rain, people are laying down blankets in the park to enjoy the sun. Some people might find the pleasant atmosphere marred by the small crowd of birds flocking a nearby bench, pigeons and seagulls impatiently harassing its occupant.

"I've only got so much popcorn, guys," Greg insists to birds who neither comprehend nor care. He thought throwing out a few kernels was harmless, and now he's got some type of feathered mafia glaring him down. A seagull gives an impatient squawk, flapping its wings by way of threat. "Geez! All right, all right!" He tosses out another handful, sending them into yet another flurry. He is trapped. There is no escape.

D. Closed to Pinkie

Greg doesn't drink a whole lot nowadays, but this place has good bar food, and private booths to talk. Given a few hours later at night, this would have been the sort of party place the two of them would have usually run into each other, last summer. He only just realized how long it's been since they got to talk in person.

Comments

C

[eba02]

There seems to be a Hitchcock movie going down in the park, and J can't help but intervene. He waits until there's a break in the cloud of birds and heads up behind the bench, putting a hand on Greg's shoulder. "Come with me if you want to live." Okay, he can't resist. After a moment, he adds, "and leave the popcorn behind - it'll distract 'em."

[panspermia]

Greg looks between the stranger, the avian mob roiling before him, and his popcorn. He does so hate to leave food to waste, but... at least someone will get to enjoy it.

"I'll miss you, bud," Greg somberly confides to the bag. If J can go for the dramatic line, Greg gets to milk it too. He takes a breath, and drops the snack to spill over the well-trodden park pathway. The birds go wild, and Greg takes the chance to hop over the back of the bench in the chaos.

[eba02]

"His sacrifice will be remembered," J intones solemnly. It's nice to have a moment to screw around every once in a while. "Now c'mon!" He grabs Greg's arm and books it out of there, far enough away that the birds shouldn't follow them.

[panspermia]

Greg can't hold back his laugh as they abscond from the scene. The birds, pleased enough with their ill-gotten gains, fail to notice their prisoner's escape, and the two get away scott free. "Thanks, pal. I dunno if I'd've had the strength to do that on my own." He really likes popcorn.

[eba02]

"No problem." J grins at Greg - it's good to actually hear a musician happy for once, even if the dissonance in his tune is awful. Well, hopefully he'll have some time here to work on that. "Bet we can find you more popcorn, too, with a little less Hitchcock this time."

D

[sailorlaughter]

It's funny - coming here now just makes Pinkie think of how little she's been out lately. Partying just isn't really an option anymore. She's not sure she could dance that long, even if her ears would stay covered. She sort of misses it.

When she arrives, it luckily just looks like she's trying out some new accessories; she's spent a lot of time practicing with the head scarves, and her hair is voluminous enough to sort of explain the space where her new ears are. It makes hearing a little hard, but she suspects her ears have actually gotten sharper in more ways than one. It evens out.

"Hi, Greg!" she chirps, sliding into the booth gratefully. Balance is weird, right? "Have you been here too long? I got kinda held up!"

[panspermia]

Pinkie's always been one for lots of bright looks and fun fashion, so he doesn't think to question the look. The slight issue with balance is more notable, but he's more distracted checking for that resonant thrum of magic so many other magicians have. He can't sense any on her. That's probably for the best.

"Nah, just got here myself. Hope you didn't have any issues?"

He leans his elbows on the table, smile tired. "I'm just glad we could meet up. It's good to see you." His misgivings against Pride have been inexorably growing lately, but he can't ever bring any sort of ill will or suspicion on Pinkie.

[sailorlaughter]

"Yeah, you too!" She reaches up to run a hand over her curls, halting the gesture when her fingers encounter cloth. Maybe she should've spent more time getting used to the scarf thing. "It's been AGES, right? I guess we've all been pretty busy..."

Pinkie trails off, glancing over her shoulder. She's afraid that if she ditches her security too often, they'll just get worse, so she didn't bother this time. Instead she asked them to watch the door for paparazzi. They're staying over there, but she has to wonder if it's really because that's the only way she could get out. "Stuff's been happening all over." That's a depressing thing. She should try to be a little more upbeat. "Steven's doing good!"

[panspermia]

The faltered stroke through her hair faintly strikes Greg as off, but not enough for him to think too hard on the matter. He worries a lip, nodding. His own security is lurking at a distance; indoors, but not close enough to overhear anything.

"That's good to hear. I know he was pretty ill for a while." Even if the security can't hear them specifically, he shouldn't talk about his involvement too much in public.

"What about you? I know it's gotta be weird, being the oldest in that group. You've always been pretty, uh... young at heart." His smile is gentle, but worried. Everyone's stressed, but while Pinkie is a great and reliable friend, he never got the feeling she was best at being responsible for people.

A

[i_am_not_cute]

That's a nice beat you have there.

[Pao-Lin certainly looks like she has music on her mind, but really she just came downstairs to get some cafe food, since she may or may not have eaten most of what was left over in the FoB fridge.]

[panspermia]

Huh?

[ He blinks at her a moment, bewildered, before looking down at his pen. After a moment, he laughs faintly. ]

Hah... thanks. Guess it's good to know I can still get a good foundation down.

[i_am_not_cute]

Sometimes you just have to let things flow! My best ideas always seem to come when I'm not thinking about it.

[In general she doesn't like thinking too hard about things. She likes to live in the moment and take things as they come.]

And sometimes I'm not even the one doing it, you know? I just hear something in the city and it just sounds like something good.

[Hey, there's an album idea -- an album where every song features ambient sound samples from Vista City, manipulated and warped as needed.]

[panspermia]

[ He chuckles faintly. ]

Yeah. It pays to get out of your head, doesn't it?

[ He chews on the end of his pen for a moment, considering things. ]

All right, how about this. Improv. Gimme a place you like to go.

A

[eyettentionplease]

Momo doesn't talk to other people that often, but... she should probably change that, right? Especially with Kido having actually Said Something about them, knowing some people around Virgo way wouldn't hurt.

So when she sees someone having trouble with their music, which is something she's more than familiar with, Momo decides she might as well see if she can help.

"That's a lot of paper." ... It's a start, right? Just sort of... stating the obvious?

[panspermia]

Greg glances up, a tad surprised. He's seen Momo around but they've never really spoken before. Looking around at the mess he's made, he gives her an apologetic smile.

"Uhh... yeah. Never good to go with your first draft, right?" He scratches at his hair. "Sorry. I'll clean all this up."

[eyettentionplease]

"Nah, it's alright." Lord knows her room would be a bigger mess if it weren't cleaned regularly. "You're going through a lot of drafts, though. Need some help?" Not that she knows how much of a help she could be to him, but... she can try!

[panspermia]

Her offer is met with a smile--exhausted, but appreciative. "If you're up for it, it's more than welcome." He sighs, blowing bangs out of his face. "I may be caught up in my own head here."

B

[thetruehistorian]

[A musical history museum is just what Robin needs. It's so hard to catch up on centuries of cultural evolution when one is not in any way, shape, or form, a part of it. So this is fantastic! She reads everything, and is well on her way to listening to all of the examples in their entirety when an energetic young man catches her eye. At first, she doesn't pay him much mind. A little bedlam feels right. He persists, and eventually she finds herself watching his "performance". Robin hangs up the headphones she'd been listening to- it isn't as if the exhibit will disappear in the next day or two- and makes her way to a nearby bench. It's clear he truly loves music, and Robin is intrigued. Could this be a native musician?

When he seems to finish his most recent air guitar solo, Robin claps, quietly, but with a broad smile.]

Bravo! Encore! You put on quite a show.

[panspermia]

[The applause surprises him a little; sure, he's used to it, but not in a setting like this. Slipping off the museum headphones, he returns her smile with his own. It's hard to discern if he's more sheepish or cocky from the praise. ]

Hey, I try to give as good as I get.

[ He gestures to the display with a thumb. ]

Can't go halfway with the classics.

[thetruehistorian]

No, I don't suppose you can.

[Robin props her chin in her palm.]

You seemed rather at home with the music. Do you play?

[panspermia]

[ So she doesn't recognize him. That's a little refreshing. ]

For as long as I can remember. May as well have been born with a guitar in my hands. [ He's fairly sure that's even true for his past life, but the lines are so hard to define... ]

B - not too late never too late

[nibelungvalesti]

[If Greg isn't alone, it's because he isn't meant to be. Meril is looking for him, having tracked him down to the lower level with some surprise. But not much. She knows things aren't well -- and all her power can't do anything to help him.]

[All she can do is be there.]

[So she comes up to his side, but says nothing, merely reaching out to take his hand with hers.]

[panspermia]

[ She caught him in a quiet moment. He takes her hand without a word, entwining her fingers with his. Quietly, he leans against her shoulder. He's so tired. He needs this support, just for a minute. ]

Are you okay?

[nibelungvalesti]

You are asking me? [The note of surprise in her voice raises it higher than normal as she looks at him, and she doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.] I am the one who is worried here.

[panspermia]

About who, me? [ His tone is light, but he still leans on her. He smiles at her, pale and wan. ] I'm good as I can be.