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Post by thatcher owen finley on Feb 29, 2012 3:56:39 GMT -5
Thatcher sat at the bar with Marc, trying to explain the simple cords to him. Or at least they were simple to Thatcher. "I can get Deacon to show them to you, okay?" He said, taking a sip of his drink.
"No, I can get this.. Just go over it one more time.." He said. He leaned across the counter, propping his head up on his hands.
"When you're strumming, okay? You hold the note down on the neck, and bring your other hand up to that note. That's how it makes that noise. The other one, you hold the note and rock the hand you're holding the note with. Got it?"
"No.. Just show me." He said, and Thatcher followed him to the break room.
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Post by reagan tanis burke on Feb 29, 2012 4:10:01 GMT -5
Reagan was sitting in the break room, getting ready for her show. She was in her outfit, just had to do her hair and makeup before she could prance onto the stage and make some money. She lit up a cigarette, trying to decide how to do her hair. Maybe a high ponytail. Simple, but sexy if done right. As she pondered it she dug through her bag, looking for her phone. Kit was supposed to text her if he was coming tonight, but so far no go. Not that she minded. Her brother staring at her as she traipsed half-naked across stage did not send shivers down her spine.
As she tossed the phone back in her 'cake' bag she heard the door open and turned to greet Marc with a smile, but it withered on her lips as she saw he was not alone. "Hey Marc, and Teach." Her voice had a chill to it, not happy about seeing the prick again, but he had given her what she considered her greatest possession now, the guitar sitting in a new case against the wall by her duffel bag.
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Post by thatcher owen finley on Feb 29, 2012 4:17:00 GMT -5
Marc laughed at the nickname. "Close enough to Thatcher, I guess, huh?" And Thatcher shrugged. He didn't care to look at her, not the way she dressed. She looked like she belonged in a strip club. He rounded the corner with Marc. There was the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp, then the volume being turned down.
Thatcher started strumming a random note, turned the pick sideways and ran it up the neck of the guitar. He handed it to Marc, who in turn strummed the same note, but it fell flat when he tried the trick. Thatcher sat behind him, showing him again how to do it. After a few tries he finally got it, and smiled over at Thatcher.
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Post by reagan tanis burke on Feb 29, 2012 4:26:07 GMT -5
For some reason when Teach looked at her she felt the sudden desire to cover up, which was abnormal for her. What people thought wasn't supposed to matter to her. Hadn't that been drilled into her since 9th grade? "Thatcher eh? Didn't know." She looked away from his disapproving eyes and hurried to finish getting ready, looking for any excuse to bolt. As if in answer to her prayers one of the stage hands stuck his head in the door right as she finished her lipstick and said she was up.
"Well Marc, be back in a few." She winked and blew him a kiss like always, pointedly ignoring Thatcher. Once onstage she blanked out her mind and did her job, dancing to a grungy, angry mix the dj had put together for her. Once the song was done and her money collected she headed back to the break room to put away her money and change.
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Post by thatcher owen finley on Feb 29, 2012 4:34:56 GMT -5
When she came back in, Marc was still trying to figure it out. Thatcher was curled patiently beside him on the couch. Thatcher had the patience of a God or something. To put up with Marc's innocence so long and not get frustrated at the thousand questions? He had to.
"Just strum." He told Marc, sliding his hand down to the bottom of the neck of the guitar. Marc strummed, and Thatcher put his hand over Marc's, rocking it back and forth.
"Okay, now you do it." He told him, curling up again. Marc tried it again, but he still couldn't get it.
"Just play me a song, okay? Warm up and play a song." Thatcher said, drumming on his knees. He scooted up to the table, drumming his hands on it. "Ready? One. Two. Three." He started drumming his hands on the table at a dizzying speed, Marc easily keeping up with him.
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Post by reagan tanis burke on Feb 29, 2012 4:50:21 GMT -5
Laine ignored Teach, but smile at Marc. He was adorable. Stepping close to snag her bag she slipped behind the screen to change into regular clothes, shoving her work outfit roughly into the now empty bag. It was nice to be in jeans and a tee, with socks and converse. She stepped out from behind the screen and started switching jewelry, taking off the gaudy stuff she wore onstage and replacing it with a simple batman logo necklace and matching ring. on her left middle finger she slid a wolf's head ring on to finish it.
She slumped down into her chair and started taking off the stage make-up, not looking nearly as much like a harlot now. Once it was all off she paused to listen to Teach and Marc play. They sounded good together, and she was glad he was so patient with him.
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Post by thatcher owen finley on Feb 29, 2012 5:01:13 GMT -5
When Marc finished the song, Thatcher popped his fingers. "Okay, now try it." He said. Marc tried it again, and failed. Then again, and almost got it. And by the third time he finally had it. Thatched high fived him, leaning back against the sofa.
"Teach me that song about the guy who asks God to watch over his girlfriend while he's gone." Marc said, handing Thatcher the acoustic. He started playing with it, tuning it a bit before strumming.
"A lonely road, crossed another state line.. Miles away from those I love; purpose hard to find.." Thatcher sang quietly, watching Marc's fingers to see if he was getting the notes right. "While I recall the words you spoke to me, can't help but wish I was there, back where I'd love to be.."
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Post by reagan tanis burke on Feb 29, 2012 5:13:36 GMT -5
Reagan said nothing, just listened as Marc tried and tried before finally getting it. She would never admit it openly, but she was proud of him. She continued to listen as Teach began to sing, and she realized she loved his voice. It was smooth and relaxing.
As she listened the door opened and the stage manager came in, wanting to talk about her next show. The interruption annoyed her and she snapped at him, telling him to go the fuck away and she would deal with it later.
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Post by thatcher owen finley on Feb 29, 2012 5:19:28 GMT -5
Marc looked at his watch and realized his break was over. He walked out of the dressing room, and Thatcher played a few more chords. He put away Marc's guitar, zipping it back up. He unplugged the other guitar, setting it beside the amp before he ran his hands down his jeans. He fixed his white tie, his blue shirt only making his eyes that much brighter. He rounded the corner and spotted the girl who seemed unable to get his name right. He stopped for a second, debating talking before he walked back out, taking his seat at the bar again. He ordered another drink, slowly sipping at it.
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Post by reagan tanis burke on Feb 29, 2012 5:25:38 GMT -5
Reaan watched as Marc left, knew Teach would only be seconds behinds. She didn't look up at him as he paused by her chair, deciding instead to try and burn a hole in the desk with her eyes. Once he left she watched him, her eyes following him until he exited. Once he left she dropped her head onto the desk. She was a succubus for god's sake, why was she acting like it was freshman year all over again?
She locked up her stuff and went out to Marc's bar, plopping down in a chair near his friend. Without the make-up and ridiculous clothes no one seemed to recognize her, which she was immensely grateful for. She ordered a beer and looked over at the teacher. Might as well throw the bait. "I never actually introduced myself. I'm Reagan."
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