ArchivedLogs:Social Skills

Social Skills
Dramatis Personae Jack, Lyric, Shane	2015-01-13 '
Location <XS> Music Room - FL2
Wide and spacious, seating in this soundproofed room comes largely on the sweep of gentle risers that afford the teacher an easy view of all the budding performers, and add another dimension to the acoustics of the room. Instruments of all types are carefully stored around the room, and a grand piano, immaculately upkept, takes the position of prize near the back. In a nod to the eclectic studies of the students, digital mixing equipment and turntables rub shoulders with the classical instruments. Music stands sit in front of most of the seats, and the only windows look out out over the side of the school grounds. It's a pretty good thing this room is soundproofed, because it is /loud/ in here, right now. There is music playing. Something with complex drumming and intricate vocals; someone /familiar/ with the style could probably identify it as heavily derived from traditional folk music from the horn of Africa. Mooost Americans probably not so much. It is blasting, though, loud-loud-loud; thumping over the music from the /speakers/ are beats from a small hand-drum that Lyric is carrying slung about her and draped near her waist. She is barefoot, in black slim-fitting pants, black long-sleeved shirt edged in intricately embroidered blue and silver at its hem and cuffs, a bright blue and silver scarf wrapped around her head and tucked beneath her neck to drape in ruffles down her chest. Her hands move rapidly against the drum, not keeping the /same/ line as the music but clearly in beat with it, adding her own layer of rhythm to the song as she spins and twirls around the floor. The chairs have been pushed back to make room for her dancing, feet pounding, a bright smile on her face and sweat glistening on her cheeks. Loud music draws curious sharks. Or maybe just the music room itself does. By some coincidence (or maybe not, silver goes /well/ with his gleamy-blue skin) Shane is also in blue and silver, silvery-flashed vest over darker blue dress shirt and trousers. Also barefoot, though. He slips into the room with a /cringe/, hands moving to press over his (extra-sensitive) ears. But he doesn't ask for the music to be turned down -- just keeps his hands over his ears, shoulders tensed slightly but his lips spreading into a smile as he moves further in, perching himself on the back of one of the pushed-aside chairs, feet resting on its seat as he just watches. Bobbing his head in time. Curiousity draws invisible guys too. Jack arrives a short while after Shane finds a seat, wincing slightly at the volume as he slips into the room. He's dressed in something other than a school hoodie today. Jeans, a black t-shirt, and a button up blue shirt worn open with only a couple buttons closed. He doesn't ask about the music yet either, just moving towards the chairs as well. Thumpthump/stomp/ thumpthump/twirl/ -- at first Lyric kind of ignores her spectators until she notices just /who/ is there watching. Her nose crinkles up, brows furrowing for a moment and her head dipping apologetically to Shane. Another few twirling steps bring her over to where her iPod is docked into the speakers, adjusting the volume down -- some. Still loud, less ear-splitting. She looks over -- frowning slightly at Jack but then giving Shane a questioning thumbs-up and lift of brows. Shane glances back towards the door as it opens again, chin jerking up in a silent hello to Jack. His grin flashes wide when Lyric looks over, wider still when the music is turned down. His hands lift, palms turned out briefly. A grateful nod in answer to the thumbs-up. "Perfect." Though a moment later he's shaking his head, hands dropping back down; one circles against his chest briefly. Drops to touch its side against the other palm in time with a shake of his head. "You don't have to stop on our account." Jack would nod his hello to Shane but he's not even wearing a hood today to indicate where his head is. There's a sheepish shrug in reply to Lyric's frown. "Yeah, no need to stop. What was that song anyway?" he asks curiously. "It sounded pretty cool." Once again, there's zero acknowledgment from Lyric that Jack has even spoken. She shrugs a shoulder when Shane says she didn't have to stop -- then grins, quicker, brighter, fingers rolllllling over the skin of her drum in a rapid staccato that blends back in with the song. Another questioning lift of brows. A small tap of feet. Another roll of hand against drum, this time with a small waggle of the instrument like it's an invitation. "Eh? I dunno. Somali? Ethiopian? I don't know a lot of music from there." Shane lifts his brows to Lyric, pointing towards the speakers. 'What music?' Signed, not spoken, rapid and probably easily overlooked given that the sign for WHAT pretty much just resembles what you'd expect the gesture to look like anyway -- hands turned up and out like, what? The brief trill of invitation draws a snort from him. "You asking me or him?" Pointing between himself and Jack. "She's probably asking you," Jack speaks up. He doesn't really think Lyric likes him. He hasn't figured out the sign language connection yet. "I don't even know her name," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. '/You/.' This is a very /emphatic/ pointing to Shane. Lyric lifts both hands off her drums, now. 'I can't even talk to /him/.' With a small scowl that soon vanishes as she drops her hands back to her drum. More comfortable, there, in the rolling beat they tap out. Until she remembers to answer the question -- more or /less/: 'Dance music. Somali.' 'Somali?' The confusion on Shane's face indicates he doesn't recognize this sign, echoing it but without understanding. His brows hike up as he looks at Jack. "Seriously, dude? This school's tiny. How do you not? There's a directory. Lyric, Jack, Jack, Lyric." He is signing as he speaks, now, talking to Jack but facing Lyric. Though he doesn't bother to /vocalize/ the rest of his answer to her invitation, only signing: 'I couldn't keep up with you if I tried.' As he watches all the signing from Lyric and Shane, Jack's head tilts to the side again. And then it clicks with him what the problem was and there's an audible smack as he slaps a hand to his forehead. "I'm really dumb, that's how," he sighs. "And I didn't read the directory," he mutters. 'I know who he is.' Lyric answers this with a /frown/, stopping her drumming and moving aside to turn the music /actually/ off, now. 'Probably not, but that shouldn't stop you trying,' she adds, when she turns back around to face Shane. And then: 'Somalia', again, this time followed by fingerspelling the country. Shane slips into interpreting-mode, albeit a languid sort, still sitting on the back of the chair as he starts signing what Jack is saying. Admittedly slightly editorialized: 'I'm really dumb', followed by, 'he's not exaggerating', before the 'I didn't read the directory.' And his spoken words, signed as well, "Read the directory, /ask/ anybody else who goes here -- oh man Lyric /you're/ the weirdo kid nobody wants to know." He says this with a /grin/. Fierce and amused, not bothering to voice his following: 'Good, I'm about to graduate, someone's gotta take that spot.' Unaware of the editorializing, Jack slumps his shoulders and tries to look as apologetic as floating clothes can. "Yeah, going to read that tonight," he says. "I never said I didn't want to know her," he adds. "There was just a ...communication breakdown." Lyric grins, exhaling a rough-hoarse bark of laughter at Shane's reply, clearly amused rather than offended. 'Right-yeah. Freak weirdo hijabi, can't even speak, you know I had some freshman this year ask if I wasn't allowed to speak because I was /forbidden/.' Her eyes rooooooll. 'I think you need communication to begin with to /have/ a breakdown.' "-- Think you need communication to begin with to have a breakdown, she says," Shane says with a crooked grin. Unspoken: '/I/ heard I had to pay your father five camels to talk to you.' But both spoken and signed: "Do you want to know anyone?" "Okay, that's true," Jack laughs a little. "Couldn't even get out of the communication gate. I'll start carrying some gloves so I'll be able to sign...once I actually learn," he says. "Of course I want to know people. I hated...being alone..." he trails off, voice getting a little quieter as he trails off. 'Five camels? I'm worth ten at least.' Lyric's brows lift, head tilting curiously to one side. 'Learn sign?' Her expression is just a little skeptical. "/Seven/ camels, final offer." This /is/ both spoken and signed, though Shane doesn't give the actual context that preceded it. "You're gonna learn sign?" His brows lift, too. "Mmm." A very noncommital mmm. He turns his head to squint over at Jack. "Who /have/ you gotten to know so far?" "Camels?" Jack's confused by that. "Yeah, I want to. Saw there was a class here for it," he says. "Well, I haven't gotten to know anyone really well yet. Lia's pretty cool to hang out with. And I like talking to Rasa and Faelan too," he answers with a shrug. 'Camels to pay my father for permission to speak to me,' Lyric explains, trusting in Shane to interpret this. 'But /why/ does he want to? There are /many/ language classes.' Shane does voice all this. No editorializing! At least not on the ASL --> English end. "There /are/ a crapton of language classes." His lips press together after this; it seems like he might be almost about to say something else. But doesn't, just waits for Jack's answer. Jack nods a little even if its unseen as the camel thing is explained. He hums a little when asked about learning ASL. "I already know two languages. Learning how to sign seemed like the most interesting option," he says. 'Oooooooooooookay.' Lyric drags out the o in a lazy slide across her body, rocking back on her bare heels with a lopsided twitch-smile. 'When-exactly did you decide it was the most interesting option?' Shane faithfully drags out the o as well, a rather skeptical inflection given to his interpretation. "Riiiiight." That part is his own, after he's done with the interpreting. He scrubs a hand against his face. "See, this might be why you haven't gotten to know anyone. I don't think I've heard you give a single answer to anything ever that wasn't just /bland/-ass boring as shit. Or /ask/ anyone anything that wasn't fucking /smalltalk/. I mean, if your goal is to be as boring and inoffensive as humanly possible, a-plus, but you don't make relationships that way. I guess if you're practicing for networking at business conferences, maybe." "When I was looking through the list of language classes," Jack replies. He's not expecting that from Shane and doesn't reply at first. "What the hell," he eventually speaks up. "What's so boring about answering what people ask? And yeah, I'm not good at prying or whatever. I'm working on it and the whole being social thing." Lyric throws up her hands in frank /disbelief/ at this answer, shaking her head. 'Why do I even bother.' Shane's reply has her lifting her hand to her face -- it /looks/ like a kind of /shocked/ expression, the way her eyes are widening and her palm is covering her mouth. Though it might be possible to discern the faintest crinkling to the corners of her eyes that suggests she's covering up a smile. Maybe. By the time she drops her hand, though, her expression is just a little weary. 'Not like I was looking for real conversation anyway right?' This is accompanied by a small-huff of breath just before she leans in to bop Shane lightly on the shoulder with her forehead. 'Homework time. Night.' Her fingers return to drumming, quieter, lively, as she dance-steps her way out of the room. Shane snaps his fingers, pointing to Lyric even as he voices her answers. He returns her bop -- head-bonk lightly against the top of her head -- and drops the signing as she heads out. "That. That /right the fuck there/, dude. That's not a fucking /answer/ that's a goddamn /cop-out/. It tells /absolutely fucking nothing/. You /didn't/ answer what she asked, not /really/. /Barely/. There was /zero substance/ in that. Nothing that could distinguish /you/ from the embleer /doorstop/ in terms of a personality." He stands up lifting one foot to balance it on the back of the chair while the other remains planted on its seat. "Here, let me break it down for you. You know how many people here meet Lyric and promptly declare they're Totally Going To Learn ASL, I Swear? Basically every single person. Which is bullshit in ninety-five percent of the cases, nobody ever /did/ till it was mandatory. But it's like people are all, oh, wow, deaf girl, that's so /different/, if /I/ say I'm going to learn it it'll make me seem all /sensitive/ and /understanding/." His shoulders lift, fall, hands spreading as he pushes his weight onto his back foot. Tipping the chair onto its rear legs, feeling it wobble beneath him as he tries to balance it there. "So, okay, cool, /you've/ only just realized Lyric's deaf and then you announce you're planning on taking ASL and she asks why. Maybe you /genuinely/ had been planning on taking it /before/ you realized she was deaf," there's a high dose of skepticism in Shane's tone that heavily implies he thinks this is Complete Bullshit, "maybe you just on the spur of the moment decided to take it because you want to be able to communicate with her. Your cop-out non-answer doesn't really give an indication either way. If you /did/ decide to take it after realizing she was deaf you could /say/ so and have an actual conversation; if you decided before you could give some reason that indicates you /have/ some personality hidden in there somewhere. ASL is a hugely visual language. /Hugely/. /So/ much of its grammar is in /facial/ expression that you can't fucking show. So -- you know, studying ASL would /be/ an interesting choice for you? It would require actually /exploring/ nuances of communication, require exploring dealing with the invisibility in a way you haven't bothered with yet, it'd be a pretty /fantastic/ correlary to working on ways of interacting with the world with your abilities." For a moment Shane's rocking seems like it's going to tip the chair too far back, send him toppling to the ground, but a correction of weight keeps it neatly balanced on its rear legs. "But what answer do you give? 'Saw it in the list of language classes.' /Seriously/, man? That's her language, that's her /culture/. You don't for even one second bother attempting /anything/ that could give /any/ insight into your thought process here, don't for one second bother with even a /tiny/ bit of connection to try and understand someone /else/ like you're actually curious about them either. Just incredibly-bland-answer with nothing to latch onto, move on to the next. Is that answer enough for you about what the fuck was /boring/?" Jack glances over as Lyric dances her way out of the room but his attention is mostly on Shane. His shoulders tense and he pushes off of the chair he'd been leaning on when Shane stands on the chair and he scowls up at the sharky mutant. There's a faint rattle as light objects shake and Jack curses under his breath. He clenches his jaw until he gets his TK back under control and then looks back up at Shane. "Yeah, that answered it" he snaps. "I decided to try to learn sign language before I knew much at all about Lyric. You want more than that answer though...fine. Yeah, I saw it in the list and it seemed like the most interesting because its a language that doesn't need words and I'm fucking terrified that one day this mutation thing will change and no one will be able to hear me either. I figured I'd at least be able to put on a pair of gloves and still be able to communicate without carrying around a pen and paper. And I had no damn idea expressions and stuff had anything to do with it, I thought it was all hands and arms," he throws his up in frustration. "And have't /bothered/ with yet? What the fucking hell?! I tried everything I was able to before I got here. Clothes, dirt, face paint, fucking halloween masks. I wasn't really rolling in options before leaving Jersey," he says. Jack stares for a moment before turning away. "Excuse me for not being a damn social butterfly," he mutters, starting towards the door. Shane /grins/, bright and toothy at this answer. His foot presses down hard on the back of his chair; it sends the chair falling towards the floor but he doesn't fall with it, hops off the teetering chair to land lightly on the ground and tap a foot down against one of its bars. Instead of falling it rocks back down onto all fours a moment after he lands. "/There/. That's the first interesting thing I've ever heard you say. Make a habit of it, maybe one day you'll actually get to know someone." As Jack starts for the door he starts for the instrument lockers, leaning up against them to rapidly flick at the lock on one. "Or they'll get to know you." Jack pauses mid-step and looks back over his shoulder. He'd expected more lecture or to be cursed at but Shane's reaction catches him off guard again. He thinks for a few moments before things start clicking and then he's sighing. "Yeah...I'll try," he says, feeling stupid again. "See you tomorrow," the walking clothes add as Jack steps into the hall to start heading towards his room. The lock on his locker clicks open; he pulls out a black violin case. In answer Shane just jerks his chin upwards in a silent nod farewell, lifting the case in a lazy-one-handed salute.