The fact that Jack wasn’t going to stalk him and beg him for children was reassuring. The laughter that bubbled past his lips couldn’t be helped, really, “That’s good, mate, because too many people have tried to sneak into my flat, and my dogs, they’re vicious,” Of course...that was a bit of a half-fib. Barnaby just humped everything in sight...Bendy though, she’d rip someone to pieces given the chance.
When he said yes to the autograph, Kirley dug around in his jacket pocket for a moment and found the pen and small notebook that had notes scribbled all over on the inside. He doubted that any of the melodies scribbled there could ever be ‘stolen.’ The only people that came close to understanding Kirley’s pre-sheet music methods were probably Myron and Heath, and saying that was quite a stretch. He understood it perfectly, but they were just notes...here and there, scribbled together. But seeing as he never wrote front and back, he ripped out one of the sheets, flipped it over, and scrawled out an autograph.
It read: “For Jack. Thanks for the conversation and the strings. Play on, mate. Kirley McCormack-Duke”
Of course, his name was only half legible like any good rock star. But it was there, and it was definitely his, “I’ll send some tickets along for you. Front okay? Maybe with some VIP passes or something?” They way he talked, you would think he did this often, but it was really not every day that Kirley offered something so easily. He grinned, quite amused by the whole ordeal now, “We’ll have to play together sometime.”