Logs:And Response

And Response
Dramatis Personae Amo, Lyric
In Absentia	2024-11-13 "You don't happen to play drums d'you?"
Location <XAV> Athletic Center - Xs Grounds
Though fairly new and fully modern on the inside, the exterior of this building has a stately stone exterior that does not jar too much with the Victorian elegance of the mansion proper. Situated near the athletic fields on the grounds, the athletic center host a vast range of indoor sports and fitness endeavors. The most iconic facilities here include an Olympic size swimming pool, a basketball court, and a fully outfitted gymnasium. In addition to these and the boys' and girls' locker rooms, there are an array of smaller facilities upstairs: two studios for dance, martial arts, yoga, or fencing, a multipurpose space that can be configured for various team sports, and a fitness center with free weights and various exercise machines whose upper limits can bet set beyond what would be safe or useful to baseline humans with staff permission. There's been thumping music coming from one of the studios up here, long after the dance class has typically ended -- it's fairly muffled through the soundproofed walls but the lively drumbeat can still be felt from the hallway and, a little bit, into the studio next door. Though class was over some while back, there are a few girls lingering for some extra coaching, extra practice with some of the rhythms they've been struggling with, a little bit freer and more at ease without the eyes of most of their classmates on them. Eventually the door is opened to let the pair of teenagers out into the hallway with enthusiastically signed "thank you"s, leaving the door open wide. Inside, the dance teacher is going about tidying up the room for the next period class. She's in a bold yellow-green-and-purple geometric print skirt, black leggings underneath, a flowing green top over her tighter black tank. Her headwrap today has been tied up in more of a turban style but as the students file out she's untucking its long tail to flow down over one shoulder in a riffle of elegantly pleated purple and yellow. There's still a bit of dance in her step as she gets a large pushbroom from the closet, the tap of her feet and push-push of the broom swaying to the continued rhythm of the music still playing loud from the speakers. Amo is stepping out into the hallway from the studio next door, bag slung over her shoulder in black joggers with a white stripe down the side, and a black unzipped sweat jacket over her heather green tank top. Her head is bobbing unconsciously before the door even has a chance to close behind her, even the scuffing of her black sneakers with bright green accents slot into the rhythm a bit. She glances up from her phone at the two students leaving Lyric’s room, and as she heads up to the open door herself—still nodding in a side to side sway with the beat—she’s backpedaling back into the frame of the doorway to get a second look at Lyric. There’s a long moment where she stands watching, brow furrowing unsure as she attempts to place the other woman. Realization has her knocking hard on the door frame in an attempt to be heard over the music as she excitedly steps in, “Aye!” She greets friendlily with a jerk of her chin, “You don’t happen to play drums d’you?” She’s asking with a slight tilt of her head. Lyric is pushing her broom forward, twirl-jumping over its handle with an entirely unnecessary musical-theatre flourish. She doesn't seem to notice the knocking, and it's only upon landing and spying Amo that her eyes go wide. First with a start, and then with a cheerful blossom of recognition. The bright smile that's grown on her face freezes when Amo speaks, and her uncertain shake of head might easily be taken for an answer. She's kind of half-wincing, holding up a finger as she sets the broom against the wall and darts over toward the corner where her tablet is still feeding the Very Loud Music to the sound system. Amo’s eyes go wider at the broom twirl flourish, but her step slows and a faint mixture of surprise and confusion flickers across her face at the shake of Lyric’s head. She mimics the motion, and waves a hand in a no worries sort of way, “Damn sorry bro, coulda’ sworn you were someone I-” She cuts herself off and gives a nod when Lyric goes to grab her tablet, waiting patiently. She idly shifts her weight back and forth in a sway between her left and right foot, still vaguely in time with the blasting music. Lyric doesn't turn the music down once she's picked up the tablet. She is swiping at it, though, steps light and airy as she makes her way back to Amo. She's turned the tablet around as she nears -- it has a notes document pulled up, font set very large and easily readable -- 'Byron Park?' Amo picks her head back up from where she’d begun distractedly examining the peeling rubber of the bottom of her sneaker, and looks at the tablet. There’s a new faint look of curiosity, a bit of confusion with a quick glance to the speakers, but the expression quickly smoothes away once she reads the words, “Oh- yeah yeah!” She nods eagerly, pony tail bobbing with the motion. One of her hands idly flick down at her side, and she’s continuing in her excitement, “It is you. You were hammering out some beats, had me sweating bro.” Lyric's tablet is captioning -- at least it is trying to caption, 'Yeah' shows up and 'hammering snow peas', and beyond that it says [music playing]. Lyric scrunches up her face, ducking her head sheepishly once more, and briefly flips away from the notepad to shut off Spotify. The room is starkly quiet in the interval, as she opens the notepad up once more to swipe quickly: 'Sorry sorry! Captions on the strugglebus with the music. Do you work here???' Amo blinks once the music turns off, shoulders suddenly shifting down from their slightly hiked position. She stares at the captioning, then what Lyric types, and her eyebrows tick upwards. She looks between Lyric and the tablet, before landing back on Lyric, “Oh shit, nah nah that’s my bad, didn’t even realize.” She’s reassuring with another wave of her hand, adjusting to try and speak a little clearer for the captions. She fishes her own phone from her pocket, “I just started here. You work here too?” She quickly swipes through and opens the notes app on her own phone, then points to it, “I can type too, if that’s easier? Don’t mind.” She offers with an easy shrug of her shoulder. Lyric's eyes are flicking to the tablet as it transcribes -- this time largely correctly, with the music off, and she considers the words for a second before waving away the offer. 'Thanks!' she's typing back quick, 'but the auto transcribe's gotten pretty good these days! Thanks COVID I guess, everyone on Zoom all the time and they had to make it work. It's so exciting to see you here my friends did NOT believe my story of the hot mystery woman vanishing off into the sunset. I'm Lyric btw. I teach here!! ASL and drumming and dance.' It takes a short time to get this all down but finally she looks up with a quick smile. She's adding, signed and not written -- YOU-TEACH-WHAT, and though the middle word might not be immediately intuitive the YOU and WHAT and inquisitive expression come as universal enough gestures it is probably not hard to guess at some manner of Biographical Question. Amo moves in closer to read, and slides her phone back into her pocket with a nod. Her face remains neutral, but a faint reddish color brightens across her cheeks as she continues to read. A brief flutter of rocky armor ripples down from the bridge of her nose and down her cheeks, as if to try and hide it, but it quickly fades. She rubs at the back of her neck, “That’s real sweet, thanks.” She glances at her, “I almost didn’t believe it, thought I must’ve dreamed someone pretty as you up.” Her head tilts, “I’m Amo.” She takes a moment to sign the three letters, not expecting the captions to transcribe it correctly, “Real glad you’re real, Lyric.” She tilts her head back and forth, trying to decipher Lyric’s question, “Sorry, don’t know much ‘cept- except for some finger spelling and some words here and there.” She’s saying apologetically, but she mirrors the middle word, a few times, then points to herself, eyebrows raising questioningly, and rereading the end of Lyric’s typed message again, “…I’m a chemistry teacher, and in this building I’m teaching self defense..?” She guesses. Lyric dips in a small curtsy at this compliment, and lightly fluffs the tail of her headscarf against her cheek as if trying in her own way to obscure the faint flush darkening her warm brown skin. She brightens, bouncing small on her toes at Amo's answer, and bobs her head in a nod. 'TEACH', she writes first, and demonstrates the sign once more before echoing, A-M-O? fingerspelled first and then typed out. A moment later her eyes have gone wide again, fingers fluttering to her lips. 'You were one of --' she's starting to sign, before shaking her head and writing again. 'I'm real glad you're HERE. I'm so sorry about' This truncates, her cheeks still dark while she deliberates how to finish this sentence, and then does not. She pivots instead to, 'I could teach you more sign,' adding with a quick warm smile, 'maybe over coffee?' A twitch of a smile pulls at the corner of Amo’s mouth at Lyric’s curtsy, and she huffs out a quick breath, thoroughly charmed by her. She nods diligently when the Teach sign is typed out, then repeats the sign to be sure. Then she signs a ‘thank you’. She nods at the typed out A-M-O, then her brow ticks downward in a concerned sort of way at Lyric’s reaction, then a bit further at her unfinished sentence. Her eyes follow up to her face and she opens her mouth to respond as Lyric deliberates, and all she gets out is a quick, “Oh- my unplanned vacation? It’s s’alright-” Before she’s distracted by her offer. Her brow jumps up, and it’s only after a brief pause that she’s nodding quick, reflecting Lyric’s warm smile with warm eyes, “Yes-would love that.” Her hand flicks down by her side again, and she brings it back up so she can sign another proper ‘Thank you.’ once more. 'Tell the school to send you on a better vacation,' Lyric replies with a small grimace. She's then tucking her tablet under her arm, lifting well-manicured fingers to curl them in a wave. 'See-you', also signed, but also quite readily intuitive, and paired with a quick easy smile. She's dancing along back to her broom to continue her sweeping, but not before sending a quick email to Amo's Xavier's email address: My weekend is pretty open!