[Outside the obvious, of course. Enemies gone, ends to war, loved ones awoken. But seeing Red perform would have to be some kind of magic. Her yen for the stage and the medley is something that reads in her every move. Her performances even through simple hums, to the dance they'd shared at the gala, to the way she lit up when they'd listened to his vinyls. Not always approving, but her ear was tuned in to the finnicky layers and tricks and vocal ticks in a way that he had, in the private time of his youth, yearned to grasp.
But Richie never realized the rock star dream. Just became something close to it, the next best thing. Rubbing elbows and pulling circus acts with vocals of a different sort. They're both under limits here. One day maybe they could pick up business as usual.]
I expect front row seats, of course. So which one was inspired by Boxer's handsome mug?
I'll do you one better. [ That's an easy enough promise to make — she figures it's the least that she could do. Backstage passes and the like. Her waiting room had always been on the emptier side, with staff running around, Sybil, and Boxer. She lives up to the reticent description well — or maybe it's better to say that she did.
A first time for everything, she supposes.
Still, it takes care not to raise her hackles — old habits die hard, and she's not a fan of answering the question so directly. ] I'd rather have my work speak for itself. [ A usual fallback, but this isn't a press interview. So, another message comes soon after the first— ]
You're serious? I'll have to swap to that one in a second, I missed that the first time around.
Was he a musician as well, or just hanging around the studio on a whim?
[Not that figures meant much for musical aptitude but he looked more like his literal namesake than he did a crooner. It would be too sweet to see the pair of them in a duet, though. Nearing on saccharine.]
You have to listen for it. [ It was a compromise. It was never supposed to be a duet, in theory — it was a lot of bargaining on Red's end before he eventually, reluctantly agreed. Multiple conversations about how he's not really fit to do something like this, not to her songs ( she told him that wasn't for him to decide ).
It still isn't a duet. ]
He'll say neither.
I stand by my decision, though. [ The last question is mysteriously unanswered. ]
I'm doing it. Maybe I'll leave him a voicemail with my compliments too.
[Is he joking???
Mebbe.]
You're being evasive again. Come on, you've been strumming that old guitar, you can't tell me there's nothing fresh coming to your mind when you're fiddling on it.
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[Outside the obvious, of course. Enemies gone, ends to war, loved ones awoken. But seeing Red perform would have to be some kind of magic. Her yen for the stage and the medley is something that reads in her every move. Her performances even through simple hums, to the dance they'd shared at the gala, to the way she lit up when they'd listened to his vinyls. Not always approving, but her ear was tuned in to the finnicky layers and tricks and vocal ticks in a way that he had, in the private time of his youth, yearned to grasp.
But Richie never realized the rock star dream. Just became something close to it, the next best thing. Rubbing elbows and pulling circus acts with vocals of a different sort. They're both under limits here. One day maybe they could pick up business as usual.]
I expect front row seats, of course. So which one was inspired by Boxer's handsome mug?
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A first time for everything, she supposes.
Still, it takes care not to raise her hackles — old habits die hard, and she's not a fan of answering the question so directly. ] I'd rather have my work speak for itself. [ A usual fallback, but this isn't a press interview. So, another message comes soon after the first— ]
That's his voice in Paper Boats, though.
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Was he a musician as well, or just hanging around the studio on a whim?
[Not that figures meant much for musical aptitude but he looked more like his literal namesake than he did a crooner. It would be too sweet to see the pair of them in a duet, though. Nearing on saccharine.]
Have you written anything since you got here?
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It still isn't a duet. ]
He'll say neither.
I stand by my decision, though. [ The last question is mysteriously unanswered. ]
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[Is he joking???
Mebbe.]
You're being evasive again. Come on, you've been strumming that old guitar, you can't tell me there's nothing fresh coming to your mind when you're fiddling on it.
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[ Probably not. Also Richie is the FUCKING WORST and she leaves him on read for an hour or so to prove her point.
But eventually— ]
A few things. We'll see if they stick.
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You can be patient for a little while longer. [ Aka whenever she gets her voice back. Which might be never tbh. ]