sally blevins (ontheskids) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-07-07 22:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | jazz, skids |
Log/Thread: Jazz and Skids
Who: Sally Blevins and John Zander
When: July 7, 2007; evening
Where: the Conservatory
What: A run-in in the Conservatory. Skids and Jazz do not like each other at all... or do they?
Since the pool incident, John had been keeping to himself. He'd even been cleaning up after himself in the bathroom. Towels were being hung up, the toilet seat was put back down; something was definitely off. He'd spent most of the days so far in the conservatory plunking out notes on the piano, or starting lessons plans for the new year. They made little sense right now, and he knew he'd re-write them, but it was busy work. Busy work kept your mind off other things -- like Sally Blevins. He didn't quite understand why she was always on his mind now. Well, no. He knew why, but he didn't want to think about it. It had been, well, nice. It felt good, but for whatever reason, she still made him want to bang his head against the ivory keys.
The conservatory was still fairly quiet, and John was taking it in. He needed to. It helped him clear his head. Plunking out notes on the piano, the notes were hard and bitter-sounding, a certain level of frustration certainly being conveyed in his music. The tune, itself, really made little sense as it jumped from octave to octave. It mingled high E's with low B's, and sounded more like something from a psychotic thriller than anything else. Fingers moving along the keys, he rolled down the notes, a flowing arpeggio until he hit a dead note and all music ceased.
"...Fuck."
Almost simultaneously, a female voice said, “…Shit.” Sally didn’t know what had led her to the conservatory. She should have known better, especially when she heard piano music. But she’d been trying to avoid John and avoiding their little ‘suite’ was a good way to do that. It eliminated any chance of running into him in their adjoined bathroom.
She would have loved to know what braintrust had thought that living arrangement was a good idea.
John Zander was the last person she wanted to deal with. She’d rather think of Scott. With his rare but soft smile and eyes that, she didn’t know the color of, but she was sure they were blue. But… of course… blue made her think of John again. A lot of things made her think of John again. And that just wasn’t kosher with Sally. Asshole. Kissing her and then running off like that, as if she needed another reason to think of him as an asshole.
“Can’t you just quit and go away?”
Of course she would have to come around. She had to disturb the peace and quiet John was enjoying. Granted, it wasn't quiet with the loud banging he was doing on the keys of the piano, but it was peace and quiet to him. Until Sally showed that is. He didn't turn his attention to her, but kept his focus on the piano keys, continuing to tinkering away at notes. They seemed to take an even bitter turn as he played, and as Sally continued talking.
He had run off for good reason. If he hadn't, not that John was the type to take advantage of a woman, but if he hadn't moved away. Then again, as he continued to think on it, he wouldn't have been taking advantage of anyone. She was more than consenting to his actions. Maybe that was why he ran off?
The more he thought about it still, and knowing she was standing there, the louder, harder, and choppy his playing seemed to get. Finally, as if finally finding some sort of answer for her, John slammed his hands on the keys. A handful of diminished chords finished his angry piece as he took a breath and turned slightly on the piano bench to look at her.
"Make your life easier, wouldn't it?" Which was followed by a snark-filled smirk.
Of course it would make her life easier. Then he wouldn’t be around. And wouldn’t be in her way. And wouldn’t have a snarky response for everything she said. And would be on her mind, which was annoying the hell out of her. “Yes,” she snapped. “At the very least it would mean I wouldn’t have to listen to you butcher music.”
Not that he was a bad pianist. It wasn’t even like Sally knew anything about playing the piano anyway. But music was his ‘thing’, so of course she was going to say that he was terrible at it. She would have said he was terrible at being blue if she thought that would have bugged him.
Butcher music? That made him grin. He didn't laugh, though. Laughing wouldn't do any good in the situation. Not yet anyway.
Sliding from the bench, Jazz turned to face Sally. Crossing his arms against his chest, he eyed her for a moment, studying her up and down. "It's awful isn't it? Too many flats mixed with sharps, right?" He paused, glancing back at the music, and then back to her. "Think it might sound better with a few diminished chords instead..." He trailed off and took a few steps towards her.
Much like he had done down at the pool, Jazz walked a full circle around Sally before stopping just beside her, gaze on the piano.
"What do you think, Professor Blevins? I'd appreciate your expert feedback."
Sally crossed her arms, glaring at him. Her discomfort around him had to be almost palpable, but she’d be damned if she was the one to move away first. “I think maybe if you’d try to playing something that didn’t sound like you were bashing your hands against the keys, it’d sound a little better,” she snapped, unable to keep her cool --- at least not completely --- around him. “How’s that for expert feedback?”
"Typical. People who don't understand music, and what makes music always assume it's 'banging your hands on the keys'," he said rather casually, yawning in to his hand. He gave her another look, and grinned. Turning to fully face her, John tilted his head to the side, nodding a few times.
"Play something, Blevins." He paused, taking a step closer to her. "I dare you. Come on."
He had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to back down from this. Not at all. And if she did? Well, he'd simply have more ammunition for the proverbial fire.
“I didn’t say music was ‘banging your hands on the keys’, you idiot,” Sally snapped. “I said that’s what you’re doing.” Ugh. Jerk. She was an inch away from slapping him, but even she knew that that would be crossing some line. That and she was non-violent to her core, as much as she wanted to throttle him.
“You want me to play something? Like I’ve had time to waste learning to play piano.” Because, clearly, she wasn’t going to admit that a good pianist was as artistic and talented as a good novelist.
"Well, you seem to be so good at everything, so why not?" He really did enjoy challenging her. He really didn't know why, but he did. Riling her up was becoming part of his every day routine, even if she sometimes didn't really deserve it. There weren't many times, at least in Jazz's opinion, but that really didn't matter to him.
And with a rather overdramatic sweep of his arm, he motioned for her to go on and sit. He really wanted to see it happen, see her bang on those keys with as much rhythm as a rock.
She was sort of stuck wasn’t she. She wasn’t sure why she should be stuck. She should have just told him to stuff it and walked away. But, instead, she found herself sitting down on the piano with an annoyed, “Hmmph.”
And then played the only thing she knew on the piano. Heart and Soul. The easy half.
“Happy? You pain in the ass.”