Just Rigby. (troubador) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-05-21 22:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-07-14, melody |
And if you really didn't know, I swear I really didn't know
Who: Rigby and Melody
Where: Open mic night!
When: Evening
Sometimes, you didn't take the stage for the money, or the spotlight, or because of the cheer at the crowd at the end of a really good set. For Rigby, it was about peace of mind, just knowing he got to do what he loved, every single day. He wouldn't lie, he'd been worried like hell over the demons over the weekend, and it hadn't taken much to convince Fina that they'd be better served by spending the days indoors, away from any threat of either of them getting hurt. He wasn't looking for a repeat of the last demon he'd met, knowing he couldn't take one down himself, and that he would have to rely on someone else to kill it for him. To say the thought made him uneasy was an understatement.
And the prospect of facing a migraine like that again, the one that forced him to leave town for a few days, was not high on Rigby's to do list. Ever.
The fact that there was a tiny little open mic night so soon after the demons was a godsend, really. Rigby stumbled upon the place by accident and since he never left home without his guitar, he signed himself right up. The crowd here wasn't too big for him to handle just yet, but all the voices faded away in his head when he started strumming. It wasn't that Rigby didn't know he was good, he did, and he proved it after playing a few songs from his usual set. And yet, he still loved when he chose a song that was so unexpected, when he could see the crowd getting into it.
His mother had been right, all those years ago. This was what he was meant to do with his life.
Melody would have understood such an outlook. She'd turned away from a trust fund and inheritance to pursue music, and had never once come anywhere close to regretting it. Sure, learning to cook for herself had been something of a disaster, but it all worked out for the best.
Also a disaster? Explaining to her disapproving parents that she couldn't come stay with them because she was harboring the homeless. Yeah, that had gone over excellently. Not. By the time it was safe to go out again, Melody was hopelessly stir-crazy, and she imagined her young wolf guests felt the same. After doing all the grown up things, like grocery shopping, she'd called around to see which places had live music. After finding an open mic night, she was there within five minutes. She needed this. Hell, even if there wasn't enough room tonight to get up there herself, she could still scout.
That idea proved to be immediately promising. The man currently occupying the stage had It. It was easy to tell within moments that he lived for this. With his music playing, Melody abandoned all thoughts of doing anything tonight but listening.
Sometimes, in between songs, Rigby could pick up snippets of songs, but as long as he went right back to playing, it didn't really affect him. Tonight? That was definitely not the case. He didn't know what was different as he finished the "Hey Ya" cover, but the voices in here were louder somehow. His brow furrowed together, but since the voices had always been a part of his life, he tried to write it off and keep going with the set.
He just had one song left, a slower one, but one he still loved regardless. "This is called 'Just a Pilgrim,'" he said, Southern drawl obvious as he started to play again. And this time? The voices stopped - but not entirely. Rigby could still hear them, a slight buzz in the back of his mind.
What the hell was going on here?
Melody noticed the hints of some internal struggle, but she couldn't guess as to what it was over. He didn't strike her as the sort to struggle with stage fright. Hell, he looked like he could live up there and be perfectly happy. Whatever the case may be, her mind was made up early. Soon as he was done, they needed to talk. So she hit the bar, letting the bartender know his next drink went to her tab, and took a seat at a table close to the stage to listen to the rest of his set.
Rigby couldn't remember a time when he'd been scared to get on a stage. It wasn't the performance part he had trouble with, but dealing with the crowd afterward. Being in Boston with Graham had been an experience, and he'd been damn lucky to get out of there without a migraine. This was more confusing than anything else, and he'd never had to play when he could still hear the voices around him.
When the song ended, he took a little bow, and turned to leave the stage - and that was when it hit him. Every thought in the room, hard, like walking into a brick wall. Jimmy at the bar was hoping to get laid tonight and Sally just missed her ex, damn it and no one really wanted to know what the hell was going on in Bill's mind, but Rigby did. Physically wincing at the pain, he tried to focus long enough to collect his things and head to the bar.
"Hey," he said to the bartender, "you mind gettin' me a beer for the road?" Because if this kept up he wasn't going to be able to get himself home, regardless of how much he'd had to drink.
He reached in his pocket to grab his wallet, but the bartender waved it off. "The girl by the stage got it for you," he said, and Rigby glanced over his shoulder. She, he knew, wanted to talk to him.
Why yes, yes she did. Melody looked over to the singer and raised her beer with a smile. She hadn't jumped on him right away - that would have been impolite - but she got up and headed across the room and over to the bar now. "Excellent set," she said by way of greeting. "I'm sorry I missed the beginning of it." What she had seen had been enough. Hell, he had what seemed like the entire room captivated - those that were listening, at least. (Melody, thankfully, had no idea what was going on with Jimmy, Sally, and Bill.)
"I'm Melody," she introduced, offering her hand.
It was harder now to pick out her thoughts over everyone else's, but Rigby tried his best to keep a straight face and ignore the migraine coming on. The bartender smirked and walked away, and he heard the "Lucky bastard" thought loud and clear, thank you very much, but he didn't acknowledge it. It never, ever ended well when Rigby made a point of saying he knew what everyone was thinking. "Thank you," he said, "and thank you for the drink." He took a sip, wishing alcohol worked to block his telepathy, but it never, ever did.
He took her hand and shook it, a firm grip. "I'm Rigby. Ain't never played at this bar before, I was glad to see they were still havin' open mic night."
Melody grinned and leaned against the bar. "My pleasure," she said. "You ain't from around here, either." Melody was good at stating the obvious! Or, you know, every other little thought that popped into her mind. The second it popped into her mind. "I'm here a lot. Other places with live music, too. I would have remembered seeing you anywhere." Which was meant as a compliment, and it never occurred to Melody that it could possibly be taken as anything but. "Have you ever recorded?"
Rigby had to chuckle at that, "No I ain't. Bit hard to hide that from y'all up here." If nothing else, he was proud of his accent - and, if he'd been travelling further South for a while, it only got thicker. This Melody seemed to be the type to speak her mind, and that was a good thing, because it was getting hard to keep up with all the thoughts he heard, piling up in his head, to pick out what ones belonged to her. "Been here a little while, found a few places to play, suppose it might have only been a matter of time before we met up." And her words were a compliment, his smile saying as much. Though, he still tilted his head a little at the idea of recording. "Not really, no."
"Yeah, I would have found you eventually," Melody agreed, conversational as could be. She had an ear for what was good. He was good. Therefor, they needed to know each other. Especially if he was staying in the area for a while. "You ever thought about cutting a demo?" she asked. And because he was too good to not think about it, she went on. "I run a studio out of my basement. If you were sticking in town, I'd love to set something up."
Now her thoughts came through loud and clear, probably because she was standing the closest to him. Melody thought he was good, and she was impressed by what he could do. This wasn't something really new to Rigby, but it had been a very long time since anyone suggested that he try to make something out of it. He was just happy doing his thing and travelling from place to place. He brought one hand to his head, rubbing at his temple in a vain attempt to get the headache to stop, as he said, "Ain't never been asked to before," he admitted, honestly. "Got some connections here in town," meaning Fina would light his ass on fire if he bailed on her now, "so yeah, I think I'd be interested."
The guy sitting at the bar behind him interrupted Rigby's thoughts, broadcasting something about the whore of a wife that he'd caught in bed with his best friend earlier in the evening. Along with the mental images of said interruption. That made Rigby wince, trying to hide it behind a sip of his beer. Maybe he and Melody were going to have to take this talk outside, too many people in here now.
Melody retrieved a business card and offered it to him with a smile. "I don't know if you'd be interesting in cutting a demo or releasing an independent album, but I could help you with either." And she'd do it for dirt cheap - if not nothing at all. She took those on from time to time, albums or demos she'd cut just for the enjoyment of working with the artist and helping someone with real talent out. The music business was full of so many vultures, might as well be good and do her part to balance out the scales.
She caught the wince and raised an eyebrow, looking around for the possible source of his expression. "You okay?"
She was actually offering him a chance to cut a demo. And she wasn't kidding about it either, that much Rigby could tell from her thoughts. Well, what bits of her thoughts came through, on top of everything else going on in his brain in that moment. He smiled back, taking the business card with the intent on looking it over and tucking it away - but Rigby never really got that far. Someone else approached the bar looking to get a beer and the woman's thoughts hit him like a punch right to the temple, and he had to grab onto the bar in order to keep himself standing straight up. What in the hell was going on here?
Great, you finally have someone offerin' ya a chance to actually do somethin' with this gig of yours and your brain has to go fuck it up. Awesome job with that, Garrett. "Not really," he managed to say. "You mind if we take this outside? Gettin' a bit crowded in here for me."
Melody reached out to steady him if need be, wondering if he was okay and just a little what the hell was going on, but quickly nodded in response. Fresh air was good. She waved the bartender over and settled her tab, flashing a grin as she did. "See you soon." She was damn near on a first-name basis with everyone in here.
She took a step back and gestured to the door. "After you," she invited.
Rigby at that point had only had the one beer, and that one had been on Melody, so it wasn't like he had a tab to settle, for once. This place had been good to him and likely he'd come play here again - if he could ever figure out why his brain was rebelling against him so hard. He felt her hand on his arm, could hear that she was confused, but he didn't quite know what to say as he made his way towards the door. The once dull ache at the back of his brain was turning into a full-fledged migraine, and there wasn't much Rigby could do to stop it now. The fresh air would do him some good, and he held the door open for Melody to follow him outside.
...Except not, because the voices didn't stop. While he didn't know exactly how far he could hear, he knew he was far enough away from the crowd outside and this shouldn't be a problem anymore. Rigby had no explanation for this except for rub at his temples and smile as apologetically as he could at the woman next to him. "Really am sorry," he said. "You were sayin'?" If he could just get through this one conversation and get back to Fina's, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Melody was watching Rigby carefully as they made their exit, and it slowly dawned on her that this wasn't the first time she'd seen someone go through something like this. Not the exact circumstances, per se - the last one had been a medium and went through something akin to an anxiety attack when everything dead in a mile radius started flocking to her like mosquitoes to a glowing bug light - but the general Psychic Freak-out wasn't so hard to spot. Problem was, saying it out loud probably wouldn't be terribly appreciated. (A shame she didn't know he was reading minds, she would have just thought the question - really loudly.) "Hey, it's okay," she said, putting her hand on his arm again. "Listen. I'm gonna do something, and it may seem kind of hokey... just keep an open mind, stay here, and tell me if it gets any better." And with that, she started walking backwards. Twenty-five paces, until she was a bit down the block, carefully watching his face all the while.
Rigby looked up at Melody, blinking for a second, trying to comprehend what she was saying over the voices in his head. She came through loud and clear alright, but his mind was at that state where not a whole lot made sense anymore, and he didn't quite know what she was getting at. "Okay," he managed, leaning forward a little, resting his hands on his knees, hoping like hell the nausea waited until he was back at Fina's. Either way, he'd just lost the next day or so to this migraine, whether he liked it or not.
It wasn't until Melody was about 25 paces or so away from him that the voices started to ebb a little - still there, they'd always be there, but it wasn't like someone had put the radio on his head full-blast and kept flipping stations. He flicked his eyes up to hers, completely confused. "...I don't get it. You know what's happenin' to me?" He went to shake his head and immediately regretted it, "It's a little better. I'll take anythin' for it at this point."
Ah-ha. Well. This could complicate things. Or maybe not, depending on what he was, exactly. "I have an idea," she confirmed. "Hold on, I'm coming closer again. It's gonna be bad for a second." Which was regrettable, and obvious by the tone of her voice that she felt badly for being a catalyst. She took twenty-five steps closer to him, and then another for good measure. "I'm a psychic amplifier," she murmured; her discretion more for his sake than hers, as Melody was - unsurprisingly - an open book. "Any psychics within twenty-five feet of me will have their abilities soar through the roof. I won't ask what you are, it's none of my business unless you choose to part with the information. What matters is, are you still willing to deal with me, and if so, is there somewhere we can go where your brain won't get quite so borked?"
At least she gave him some warning at this point, but that still didn't help the way the voices spiked in his head again, causing Rigby to double over again, clutching at his head. Whatever she was, she was definitely making it damn near impossible for him to do anything around her. "Ain't never heard of an amplifier before," he said. Though she hadn't asked what he was, Melody should know at least what he was going through. "And I'm a telepath. Feels like the whole damn town decided to camp out in my brain." And that was putting it nicely. Rigby paused, trying to think. Melody had offered him a fantastic opportunity, and he'd be an idiot to turn it down. He just didn't know how to make it work. "Anywhere where there ain't anyone else around," he said. "Don't know if'n that's possible. One person's thoughts I can handle. The whole damn bar behind me? Not so much."
Telepath, huh? She hadn't encountered one of those yet. Melody found herself trying hard not to think - about anything. Not because she didn't want him to hear her thoughts - open book, remember? - she just didn't want to overwhelm the poor guy any more than necessary. Luckily, Melody was pretty good at not thinking, and just being blank. "All we gotta do is get in a place with no other people around. That shouldn't be so bad. You could come to my house. Which isn't a creepy, insta-come on or anything. My studio is there. There's a couple of teenagers living with me right now, but neither of them were home when I left. Or we could just make an appointment for you to come by and talk some time. I'll make sure everyone else is gone."
To be fair, Rigby had never encountered someone who could do what he could, either. And for a moment, though he could hear everyone else and their grandmother in the bar, he couldn't hear a thing coming from Melody. At least, not her thoughts, anyway. Maybe she doesn't think you're insane after all. Needless to say it was not the reaction he usually got when someone found out he could read their mind. "Your house, that could work," and he didn't mean it as a come-on either, Rigby didn't work like that. Ever. "Meetin' up later might be better. If only so I can start this conversation without the thumpin' migraine gettin' in the way." If she could clear out the space, and it was just her mind he was dealing with, Rigby was pretty confident he could handle that. Hell, it wasn't like his brain was ever quiet, not really. "Really do want to see your studio, and all of that. I'm hopin' this ain't wrecked things too much."
It was a little amusing - Rigby worrying that he'd wrecked things, when Melody was used to meeting psychics who refused to be in the same room as her after they figured out what she was. She just waved it off. "My number and address is on the card," she said. "Give me a call anytime, I'll make sure to clear out my company." It wasn't something she minded doing, either. She was used to bands having odd requests for their space. Anything from a polka band who honestly believed the best music was made with the scent of sauerkraut in the air to the pop princess wannabe who brought special headphones for her dog. Whatever the talent needed.
Rigby wasn't the kind of guy who ever asked for special anything. He could be perfectly content to live out of his truck and go about live as he pleased, without so many of the things most people took for granted, like TVs and computers and all that stuff. He didn't need it. But to work with Melody, something he did want to do, this was the only way he could think of to make his brain cooperate. Not for the first time, he wished he hadn't been given this "gift," most often an inconvenience rather than a benefit. "I will most definitely do that," he said, straightening up. "I really am lookin' forward to bein' in a studio, I hope you know that. And next time, I can at least try to prepare myself for whatever it is you do." Even if there wasn't much he could do to protect his brain, sadly.
Melody grinned. "Don't worry. I'm not." Even if she didn't do anything, she just was. Too long a story to explain, especially when the guy was in pain. "I look forward to hearing from you." She didn't care to end the conversation so abruptly, but she did start walking backwards again. She could at least give him some relief.
In reality, Rigby was pretty much lying to himself about what was going on and thinking he could be prepared for it. At least he'd know it was coming, and that was better than being blindsided by it. At this point, he'd take what he can get. It would take him a day or two to put his mind back to rights after this encounter, but maybe the next wouldn't be so bad. Maybe. "And I look forward to talkin' to you," he said, bowing his head in her direction. He didn't really want to end the conversation either, but at this rate, it was looking like the only place he should be right now was curled up in Fina's bed, trying to kill this migraine any way he could.