Logs:Capriccio delle Regine

Capriccio delle Regine
Dramatis Personae Ryan, Shane
In Absentia	2024-07-24 ♬
Location <NYC> Fancy-ass Hotel Suite - Le Bonne Entente
Thank goodness L'Entente has excellent insulation, or else Ryan might make a deeply aggravating neighbor. It's true enough that he can simply quiet the leaking of his own practicing, but in the middle of working he is not always the most attentive to spillover noise. There's been music coming from his room in this suite for quite some time, in fits and starts and snatches as he plays around with some new melody. He has not gotten quite to the cursing at himself stage yet, but in the past half hour or so it's clearly not going as well, frustrated sharper chords on his keyboard and looping repetitive passages that don't seem to land exactly where he wants them. There's no knock on the door. Shane doesn't really wait for a break in the music, either, just cracks the door and slips inside. Despite the very late hour he's got a pair coffees in hand. He sets one down near Ryan at his keyboard, and takes a seat himself on the bed. He's cross-legged in his pajamas, small sharp claws clicking quiet against the mug. Ryan is not yet dressed for bed, though he is comfortable in a black kilt with pink, purple and blue paneling in its pleats, and a soft ribbed black tank top. He's running his fingers through his hair in frustration, and after his hand drops back to the keyboard with another discordant jangle of notes. He's smiling bright when he picks up the mug, though, slouching back in his seat and lifting the drink to Shane in silent gratitude. Shane's gills shift in a slow, relaxed flutter. He takes a sip of his own coffee, considering the keyboard moreso than Ryan. Eventually he gets back up, slipping back out of the room, though he's left his coffee on an end table. Ryan slumps further in his seat when Shane leaves. His head drops heavily back against his chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He pulls a large gulp of his coffee, then sets it aside. He's turning back to the keyboard, kind of halfhearted in his return to plunking out a melody. When Shane does return he's got his own violin in hand. He plops himself back on the bed, picking his coffee back up and sipping it slow. His head tilts slightly to the side, bopping along absently as he listens to this half-formed melody. After several measures he sets his coffee back aside and picks his violin up. He's watching Ryan close, now; when he starts playing it's light and easy, a playful tune dancing in between the older man's notes. At first Ryan's playing continues apace. He is sitting up a bit straighter, mouth twitching up at the corners. As Shane's violin harmonizes with his fledgling song, the adjustments he makes are at first subtle. A little lighter here, a trill there. Even if the melody hasn't much changed, its feel has -- easier, cheerier, a blossoming warmth that spills out now in time with the music. Shane's eyes close, inner set of eyelids and then, slower, the outer. The wash of feeling that comes with Ryan's music, now, probably does not actually make his bow more nimble. In its lively dance there's an answering flutter, relaxed and warm and filling the room with a rich concurrence of joy.