ArchivedLogs:Six Minutes Forty Seven Seconds

Six Minutes Forty Seven Seconds
How long does it take you to...
Dramatis Personae Logan & Rogue
In Absentia	April 15th, 2013 Rogue is playing her violin in the conservatory, and Logan comes along to eavesdrop. There's talk of... ambience, motorbikes and escape, and a ridiculous time-frame...
Location <XS> Conservatory
It's getting on in the afternoon, heading towards more dinner time than lunch. Most of the school is working on after school hours stuff, like grading, or homework, sports, what have you. But in the Conservatory, its a slightly different story. Standing not far from where some of the student desks are, is one gloveless Rogue. The white wire shows she has an earbud tucked into her left ear, auburn and white hair loosely braided back from her face. Gloves are nearby, laying harmlessly over an opened violin case, the scent of bow resin mingling with the more humid scents of plants. Snug black t-shirt and jeans clash with the classical number she is playing (Brahms Violin Concerto in D major op.77 to be precise), but her eyes are closed, and the southern belle is clearly somewhere 'else' as she plays. A passerby might wonder, How long has he been there? after spotting Logan standing several feet behind Rogue, on the side of a path running through and around the Conservatory, with a leg propped up on a nearby chair. He's smoking - again - and smirking (as usual) at the young woman playing, and appears to be quite content where he is, just listening. One of the arts teachers - a woman - walks by, sniffs the air and shakes her head at Logan, before heading outside. She gives Rogue a passing smile just as she disappears, the clip-clop of her high heels striking the ground fading into the distance. "Dunno how you chicks wear those," Logan snorts - a cloud of spicy cigar-smoke enveloping his head for a few seconds. He shakes his head and puts his cigar back between his teeth. "Wha's suh poin' o' wearin' i', if i' hur's?" It's a while, who knows how long, before Rogue finally starts to resurface from wherever the music had taken her. Dark eyes open, sniffing a bit at the air to make sure she's smelling the scent she thinks she is. There's a slightly dischordant note as the belle lets her bow slip from the strings, turning to look behind her. "How long ya been standin' there? Ah wouldn't have taken you for the classical music type, sugar." Rogue is blushing, just a bit, taking the earbud out. Logan can likely hear the orchestral arrangement coming from the tiny speaker until she turns the player off. "Who says I was here for the music?" Logan retorts with a smirk, removing the cigar and leaning his head forward just a bit for a Hmph, so there! nod. "You're good kid, real good. What... was that you were playin'?" He smirks again, redepositing the cigar in his mouth and puffing away as though he hadn't a care in the world. He looks the same as ever - jeans, jacket, boots - and cigar. He doesn't look as tense at least, not at the moment. "That was Brahms. Violin Concerto in D major, op 77. It's a hard piece, still haven't mastered it." She shrugs slightly. "So if not the music, what would you be here for?" "The..." Logan replies with a vague gesture at the room, only to swallow, shrug and... shrug again. "Ambience," he finishes lamely. The man shifts the chair away with his foot, lets his leg drop to the ground and then picks it up again (the chair, that is) to carry it over to Rogue. "I need a reason to come say hi, huh?" "Ah like it out here. Not too many people that come out here to look around. Safe. " Rogue shrugs, before she's picking up her gloves. She turns to look at him, a bright smile dawning over her features. "Of course you don't need a reason. Ah always like getting to hang out with you." There's even a wink his way. "Good, coz I gotta get outta here for a bit. Hit the town - a few bars - mebbe beat up some guys..." Logan sniffs and mouth-shrugs a bit. "You're welcome to come with, if ya want. I dunno... doesn't this place just get too..." He flails around a bit, searching for a word, his brow all screwed up in a rueful frown. "Nice?" In goes the cigar and out comes more smoke - blown in a cloud away from Rogue, just in case. "'Nice' is alright, I guess, but..." he sighs a fraction. "It's still just 'nice' an' it drives me up the wall. Oh, and someone's chasing me around for an Occ Health & Safety session, for the advance P.E. courses. Fuck." There's a brightness that comes over her features, as Rogue tugs her gloves into place. "Goin' out in the city, really? Ah would love to go." She looks like someone just handed her a hundred bucks. "IT can get a little too nice an' rarefied, sure. Why do you think Ah'm thrilled by the invite." She snaps the case shut, flipping her braid back. "How long do Ah have to get ready?" A lopsided grin crosses Logan's face and he all but leaps up from his chair. "Six minutes, forty-seven seconds," he replies, his chin lifting just a little in a challenge to add to his grin. "That's how long it'll take me to walk to the garage for the bike - after a quick stop at the Men's Room. Meet ya there?" He frowns. "The garage - not the Men's Room." Then he starts to saunter away, grinning toothily around his cigar and chuckling to himself. Someone's feeling awfully proud. "You're a jerk. Let me run up and put my violin away, an' make sure Ah have some stuff. Ah'll meet you in the garage, quick as Ah can." Rogue says with a warmth in her voice that has been missing more often than not lately. She brushes past him, a kiss to his muttonchop where she can't hurt him, before feet are running, so she can get up the stairs and grab her fake id and things so she can meet him down in the garage. She might try to put on a touch of makeup and change her shirt, too. END TRANSMISSION