Re: [Outside Secondhand Books & Cafe: Misha & Sadie]
Details were the first things Sadie had learned to notice while traveling. At first it had started as a game, figuring out where various scuffs or scars had come from on the faces of people she played for, where they went, what they got up to, and the sort of imaginings that made it much more easy to aim for the sense of connection her life lacked on most days. It got a little harder at times like these, when she'd actually gotten someone to play with her, because the need was so washed out in excitement that things fell through the cracks, but not everything.
Too many missteps along the road had robbed her of the ability to be completely ignorant of it, even if all it did was look like she nodded along to his informational bits about the Capital and climes where she might make more coin. The notice of competition too would seem to spark and cut through her skittish shell.
She did so like a challenge. It was why she could specifically request not to play Paganini: Because she could and didn't want to. She'd been told if she ever wanted to say she'd mastered the instrument, then that was what she had to be able to play. Sadie had struggled and struggled, played until every muscle in her hands hurt and her bows were a tattered mess. Always Grandma would make sure there was another for her to pick up, and pick it up Sadie would. It wasn't like she really had friends to play with anyway, the closest she got being the nights friends of her elder would bring instruments by to play with her in the backyard.
It was what made moments like the one she'd just been given so very special to her. It made it very difficult not to show her hand -- not that Sadie had any delusions she had a poker face in the first place mind you.
"I don't mind havin' to work hard for what people throw." She could talk about her music with more confidence than anything else and was glad the conversation seemed to linger there. It at least gave her room to slip the part of the conversation where it would have been polite to say where she was from. "I can add dancin' to the mix if needed. Helps the not gettin' so cold too, it does."
There'd be a nod when he asked if she wanted to go get a table and a quick. "Hot chocolate please, raspberry if they have it." It was her go-to order anywhere that had it. "Regular is fine if they don't." She carefully structured her words and tone, clear enunciation and careful phrasing was important. It's what made the accent so vital to bury. Fortunately now she could go hunt for a table, one somewhat out of the way. She was excited to hear about the carnival, having always been a fan of the ones that rolled through towns back home.
Which had a lot to do with why she hovered in front if the table when she found it. She'd be easier to spot her, she reasoned, and it was kind of nice hoping to get noticed for a change.