[Jukebox - Sparrow & Open]
She wasn't being deceptive. She hadn't come to learn about the competition, and this wasn't a play to steal things for her own hooch act at the carnival. Honestly, she hadn't expected very much, because she'd been inside the roadhouse when it was merely wood and wood, sticky surfaces and music with too many guitars. She didn't expect much, but she was trying to be nice. The man who'd bought the roadhouse hadn't been accepted with arms flung wide, and Sparrow knew what it was to be new, new, new. New face, new place, and no one familiar and old bones, so she'd come to be nice.
But, now that she was there, she realized this was competition. She wasn't worried about it, not in truth. She had money in boxes, tucked away safe, and she wasn't going to starve. But this place was more like her act than she'd expected, and it was more like the hooch than she'd expected. There was something familiar in it, and life was full of familiar things lately. They all layered themselves upon her skin, secrets unwilling to spill themselves for her, and she was really, really close to messaging the Sheriff to ask who Mrs. Henry was.
But she wasn't completely ready, not yet, not yet, and she approached the jukeboxes during intermission. The stage was quiet, though she thought she heard a roar backstage, and there were bubbles that still clung defiantly to the air, trying to live out their spherical little lives for as long as they possibly could.
Sparrow pulled a quarter from her dress pocket and, ringlets falling forward to kiss her cheeks, she reviewed the musical choices. She would stay for one song, just one.