[CONDUCTOR] Music Meme Still Fighting It (Ben Folds’ Five)
He steps aboard in a coat that hides his face and a scarf to tuck his chin into. There is a moment where the conductor stares, as though he’s never seen a passenger in his life, and Ash resists the urge to squirm. He holds out his ticket wordlessly, and Chaz stares at that, too, like he doesn’t know what to do with it, like the glossy slip of paper is beyond him, and Ash finds a grin spreading across his face without thought, without permission. He asks if the great conductor is missing his assistant. The hint of arrogance to the smile as Chaz snatches the ticket from his fingers is more warming than the scarf.
Saturday Night Thunderbolt (Ludo)
The last thing he expects from the conductor is a genuine, if tired, smile. “New to the line, sir?” he inquires, holding out a gloved hand. There are freckles down the length of his nose.
Lovers in a Dangerous Time (Barenaked Ladies, apparently)
Chaz offers his living space freely, knowing already, Ash suspects, that the detective is wary of bringing total strangers into his own. Chaz doesn’t feel like a stranger at this point, and that makes Ash more wary rather than less.
Streetlights (Ludo)
The streetlights bleach his already wan colouring until it looks as though the uniform is standing by itself; even the thin cotton gloves are more substantial than Chaz’s skin. Ash stares at the pale face, freckles almost invisible in this light, and wonders how the hell the conductor has found him. And why.
Save (The Rocket Summer)
The conductor’s frame crumples as if he has been punched in the stomach. Ash’s fury holds for two seconds as Chaz folds in over himself, one hand groping blindly for the wall, before he starts forward to help. He doesn’t expect the blond to jerk away, to ward him off with one hand and claw himself backwards along the bed, until he is flush with the wall and his hand rests on the oar at his bedside.
“Are you—” he starts, and, “Don’t,” Chaz rasps, and stays there, breathing heavily. Ash is about to move forward again when the conductor says, in a voice small with pain, “I think you should go.”
A Song Is Not a Business Plan (The Rocket Summer)
Ash’s certainty flickers, then, and the strain in Chaz’s face eases. His right hand splays against the photographs, the news clippings, as if he will absorb them. His left is white-knuckled on the bedside oar. Ash thinks, no, and Chaz’s eyes slit, teeth grit.
“Go,” he repeats, like that is all he can manage, and Ash watches his face pale like the blood is draining from it.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asks. Chaz’s lips crack in a hysterical sort of giggle.
“Clap your hands,” he suggests, “and get out.”
The Finish Line (Snow Patrol)
Ash watches the entire process with his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. When Charon climbs to his feet, there is a small smile of contentment on his lips, and Ash says, “But you gave it to me. I was meant to,” and stops, and turns away because he’s going to throw up. Charon’s thin fingers curl over his shoulder.
“I did give it to you,” he agrees. “It wasn’t yours.”
The Lamb and the Dragon (Ludo)
The kid plays and Chaz listens, and Ash can only raise his eyebrows when the conductor nods once, deeply, and wishes the boy luck. “If I may offer some advice,” he says, and the kid looks up and waits. Chaz looks as though he’s trying to pick his words, and finally just sighs heavily and shrugs.
“Have some trust,” he says finally. “If they tell you something, believe it. And don’t look back.”
Necropolis Problem (Legacy of Kain: Soul Reaver)
“I followed you,” he says, and tries to press inside the flat. Ash tries to step in front of him, but, “Please.” Chaz looks up at him, grey and harried. “I can’t do this on the street. You’re going to want to sit down.”
Suspicion lines Ash’s face. “Keep your hands where I can see them, then. And you’d best move nice and slow.”
Danse Macabre (Camille Saint-Saens)
“Security,” Chaz suggests pragmatically. “Vince is probably going on leave in a week, give or take, and you look as though you’d suit it better than he does.”
“Why’s he need leave?” Ash asks through a mouthful of pizza, anticipating a holiday, a birth or a wedding. Chaz gives him a carefully blank look over a slice of his own, which gives him just enough time to retract the question gracefully – gracefully as possible with a mouthful of mozzarella cheese.