Flint (pollux_flint) wrote in oblivion_rp, @ 2010-03-06 03:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-12-28, cary, flint, lily |
Who: Lily, Cary, Flint and OPEN
When: evening, through the 1920's party
Where: E Deck -- Cult of Dionysus
What: As agreed, Flint plays the piano. In front of people.
Reluctantly, Flint slunk into the Cult of Dionysus. He was a little late for the party and he knew it, but he hadn't promised Micah that he'd be on time. Just that he'd show up. Here I am. Rather I wasn't. But I am.
The clothing that Delia had helped him pick out certainly fit right in with what almost everyone else was wearing and that relaxed him fractionally. He didn't have time to put anymore coherent thoughts together when a beaming woman approached him. The clipboard she carried didn't really go with her dress. "Mr. Flint? Come with me, please."
Lying in wait for you, were they? There's still time. Turn. Run. No. He'd given his word -- to play ragtime and jazz piano for the 1920's party -- and he would stick to it. Flint nodded, took a deep breath, and followed the younger woman around the edge of the room, towards the piano.
She turned around and presented it to him as if practicing to be on The Price is Right. "Here you go, Mr. Flint, it's all yours. Please let me know if you need anything." She said her name but Flint was too dazed to catch it. He only saw the piano. And... the microphone. Hell. No. Not in public. With a puzzled smile at his continued silence, the staff member took her leave of Flint, but he knew she'd be back if he didn't sit down and actually play the instrument.
Sidling up to it slowly, straightening the dark double-breasted vest he wore, Flint had to admit this piano was easily as nice as the one he'd played in the theatre that morning. And as shy, as anxious as he was... he knew music. Music didn't need him to give socially appropriate responses in small talk.
Irving Berlin. Fats Waller. George Gershwin, Paul Whiteman, Al Jolson. Early Cole Porter. He knew this era, could play the pieces. Then you better do it. He shook out his hands, flexed his fingers, and settled onto the piano bench. To get a feel for the instrument, he sketched out some notes, a piano solo for Gershwin's Concerto in F. Sounds pretty good.
Flint tipped the black fedora down more firmly on his head, let his shoulders relax, and began to play in earnest. It didn't take half a song before he was completely comfortable in what he was doing.