Re: The Disaffected/The Entertainer
"You often think missing people on a moving train isn't cause for concern?" Miles asked, a glint of amusement in his world-weary eyes. "I don't see how it's easy to make multiple people go missing unnoticed from a place like this one." Miles wasn't a salt of the earth man, but he was simple when it came to things like Occam's Razor. In this case, throwing multiple people out of a moving train without it being noticed seemed a little too unbelievable for the likes of him. Stowing that many bodies in such a short span of time also seemed unlikely. Occam's Razor told him something else was going on that went beyond a train version of vehicular homicide. Maybe that wasn't how Occam's Razor actually worked, but he crammed it in and made it fit his method of thinking.
Miles had no old man to summon him. He was on his way to a gig. There was time to kill, and he figured he might get some writing done during a nice, scenic train ride. Instead he was standing here and reaching out for the headphones. He listened a few minutes without much change of expression, and then he handed the headphones back and stepped away from the side of the door. He slid his guitar around in front of him, and he brought his calloused fingers to the strings. He played a slightly modified version of a song, acoustic and with a gritty voice to go along with the string plucking. He knew it wasn't what his audience was expecting, but that was all part of entertaining. But he slid smoothly into something else, more along the line of what was expected. Both were covers, but he didn't think that mattered in there and now. His voice was grit and grind, note perfect and he didn't halfass, not even when it came to covers for an audience that he knew wasn't sold on the likes of him.