||: p.e.n.n.y :|| (pennybears) wrote in innovo_rpg, @ 2009-09-26 13:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: adriana evans, character: penny layne schwartz-maccabe, status: incomplete |
Who: Penny Layne Schwartz-McCabe and Adriana Evans
When: Friday Night, September 25
Where: The Old West Ender (A blues bar in West Innovo)
Rating: TBA
Summary: Penny's got a gig
Status: Incomplete
Penny had managed to land a gig. It was no small feat when one had no reputation and could barely get through a sentence without stuttering. For once, her late night drunken wandering had proved itself useful. She had wandered in earlier in the week on an open mic night and managed to jump in with a band when their singer was a no show. The manager had been impressed enough to offer her a few bucks for a Friday night.
She had opted to go primarily with the guitar tonight, it was a bit less restrictive than the piano. Plus, the crowd didn't strike her as the type to really appreciate the old jazz standards. They seemed to be in the mood to dance, and whining guitars seemed more appropriate for that type of writhing.
Rule 1 of Penny performing? There had to be enough whiskey in her system for her to forget about the fact that the shadowy silhouettes were really individual people. It also meant it was enough for her to forget that she wasn't actually just jamming in her bedroom by herself. She rocked and swayed behind her guitar in spasms that put even Joe Cocker to shame. It was strange, the guitar seeming almost too big for its left-handed player. The beat up old Les Paul sunburst knew its place, though. Penny was the boss as her hand slid up and down the neck, her opposite hand's fingers plucking strings. And she wasn't pretty when she sang, face twisting with her eyes closed as she worked her way through her lyrics. She had been playing for nearly an hour now, and was severely in need of a break.
When she finished the number, she would step off stage, making a beeline for the bar to re-up. She was sweat drenched, the oversized white t-shirt she had chosen clinging to her body and making her glad she had chosen her most tattered pair of jeans. At least that provided a little ventilation.