Maryanne Elizabeth Walker (maryanne_walker) wrote in spinningcompass, @ 2013-08-27 18:50:00 |
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Tonight was like any other night in Mitchell's pub. She'd finished feeding the masses. Or the masses that she was willing to feed because, to be honest, there were a few people that she'd just let starve. And like any other night, she felt the need to entertain herself. And fuck all if they didn't like it. They could leave. She wasn't there for their entertainment. She was there because she wanted to be. And that was all there was to it. Maryanne was strumming through the beginning chords of 'Friends in Low places', because it was a fitting song, and she liked it. And she did have friends in low places. And that was just fine by her. Then, suddenly, she wasn't. Opening her eyes her beloved guitar, a gift from Sean when they were younger, was no longer in her hands. In fact her hands weren't exactly her hands. But she knew them. Knew the calluses. It took only a split second for her to look up from the drink in her hand. What had been his hands. And find her own blue eyes, with his green. "What. The. Fuck." Wow. That was definitely different. Though, sadly, she didn't bare his lovely accent. Just her own, in his deep timbre. |