rupert "miles" glass (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} clowning) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} bellumlogs, |
... And just before his brother's picture would have begun fading in the photograph, Marty Miles stepped forward with confidence and curiosity (though with a pittance of hesitation having the foreknowledge that not only was he unaware of which songs the band played, but as well, what was this instrument even called?) already proudly attempting to play the alien gizmo in his grasp, he felt as out of place as a menial goldfish in an aquarium full of exotic electric eels. That was, until he spotted Theo. He felt a bit more at ease seeing a familiar face. Were there any others he knew? He wunk at Theo in acknowledgement and attempted to hustle a seat by him, bwhile surveying the room with a narrowing of his surreptitious eyes. It was too dark and smoky in here to see a thing!
Ah, but what had lead him here? The details of his escape's whole exodus once he'd embarked upon it solely, where he'd stayed, how he'd stayed, what had happened, why... they'll all be explained in time. Oh so secretive was he, even with himself. What mattered now was that he was here, by choice? Hardly. But, if life hands you lemonades, you make lemonade. When a strange man with dilated pupils, ruddy cheeks, a handlebar mustache and a snazzy suit hands you a whosits, you blow. It was within the alleyway outside that he'd been approached and quite delightfully fretted over. They'd informed him he was late--how could he!--and that the showing was just about to begin. Here was his instrument, and by the way, here's a shot of whiskey. Wait, you might need another! There you go. Feeling more liberated now? Wonderful! They'd also provided him with a funny looking outfit that had been dusted with sequins of hearts. Although most of them had since fell off, he couldn't help but hope they'd sprinkle more on soon. Life was just a touch more nice with sequined hearts.
Miles feigned following along with the instruments. Merely dancing his fingers across its ... button... things. Was that a redhead singing? That was definitely a redhead singing.