Papa's Got a Brand New...Bling (Late July 2008)

[nomorekaraoke]

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life--

Wrong theme song, even though the theme certainly applies. It's a new day in Lorne's life. He quite enjoys dawn, thank you very much. He's found a new place to live - another penthouse in the middle of Youdon'tneedtoknow-ville. And recently, he's been indulging more and more in taking breathers at Milliways.

In short: good times all around.

Comments

[stilljustandrew]

"I never heard it."

Half a beat, and he looks back at the album titles again. "...Is that The Police?"

[nomorekaraoke]

Lorne lingers a moment longer with the Edith Piaf album, until the question registers along with the slightly dubious tone of voice.

"Of course it is. Roxanne, Message in a Bottle, Don't Stand So Close to Me, what's not to absolutely adork?"

[stilljustandrew]

"Synchronicity," Andrew says happily. "That was always my favorite."

Beat.

"Okay, Moulin Rouge, El Tango de Roxanne: best thing ever or hideous travesty?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Are you kidding me?!" He exclaims happily, completely unapologetic about it (and the expression is exactly the same regardless of his friendly hyooman face). "How can you go wrong with a hunky, bellowing, narcoleptic Argentinean?! It's fabulous!"

[stilljustandrew]

"Absolutely," he agrees.

"... what they did to 'Like A Virgin' was scary, though."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Yeah," the beaming happy face is swiftly replaced by a very emotive 'oh, ew'. "I'll never forget Lurhmann for that one. The Show Must Go On, though? Killer. Absolutely lethal, break-your-heart goodness."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah," Andrew sighs, and this time a faint shadow crosses his face.

[nomorekaraoke]

Lorne tilts his head, noticing very well indeed. "Music...can bring back the most distant memories. Both good and bad, of course, but you know what? That's why I love it."

He's quite proud of himself that it doesn't even sound fake. He's professed this love so often it just rolls off his tongue.

[stilljustandrew]

It doesn't sound fake. It sounds ... something.

"And of course," he adds, "you've got the whole aura-reading thing with music too ... Does that work with recorded music, or does it have to be live?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Yeah."

It's Lorne's turns to have his face darkened by invisible shadows - but it passes quickly with the reflexive shrug he gives in response. "It depends. I mean, recorded music isn't as personal, and I don't have anyone to outright read. Look at, you know."

There's a 'but' hovering in the air between them, faint and distant, but definitely there. It's just out of reach.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew tilts his head.

It isn't a question unless Lorne wants it to be.

[nomorekaraoke]

He tilts his head the other way, turning his dark brown eyes on the many albums. He takes one of them out, carefully brushing the plastic cover free of imaginary specks of dust. It's a redistributed recording of the Andrews Sisters. Snazzed up and cleaned up, but it's still an old record. Old technology, but old only ever means bad if you make that distinction, and he very much doesn't.

"Take this one, for instance. Not only do you have the three very charming ladies threading melodies with each other, you have aaaall the other musicians with their instruments and their hearts thump-thumping to the beat. It gets a bit...jumbled."

[stilljustandrew]

He's leaning to look at the album cover. "So you'd get ... interference," he guesses. "All the different readings at the same time?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Static," he mumbles - unaware that he's leaning a touch closer to give Andrew a better look. "And the signal's bad to begin with, what with being second hand. ...or something along those lines. I can read people over the phone, no problem, but recordings..."

[stilljustandrew]

"Maybe it's because of the time delay." Thoughtful. "I mean, when someone's talking on the phone, whatever it is they're feeling -- they're feeling it now, even if you're only getting their voice over the wire."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Yeah, exactly." There's a smile hiding in the background just waiting to grab Lorne's cakehole and run with it. "It's a Kodak moment, but you weren't there for it."

[stilljustandrew]

"It's a pretty rare talent," he says, and there's a touch of something like admiration in his voice. "Or at least it doesn't get written up a lot."

[nomorekaraoke]

Heat rises in subtle increments to the surface of his face. "It's..." nothing hovers on the tip of his tongue, but something else entirely beats it to the finish line. He glances at Andrew. "It's unique, as far as I know. To Pyleans, at least."


For the first time in years, he doesn't feel ashamed about that fact.

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah," he says. "Which, from what I've read about Pylea, it's -- "

A beat, and Andrew's turn to flush slightly.

"I mean, not to disrespect your home dimension."

[nomorekaraoke]

There goes that smile, having a field day with his mouth, though from the looks of it he's trying valiantly not to grin like a loon. "It's common knowledge I hate Pylea with a white hot passion. Go on."

[stilljustandrew]

"Yeah?" Andrew starts to smile back. "In that case, uh -- from what I've read about it, having a talent there that has to do with music is kind of like being a fish born with pyrokinesis."

[nomorekaraoke]

There he goes: It's like watching a guitar string snap mid gig. He chuckles, and the skin around his eyes crinkles with mirth that he just can't disguise.

"I love your way with words! That is so true!"

[stilljustandrew]

He grins, unconsciously ducking his head a little at the compliment.

It is so bizarre, seeing Lorne's familiar smile on that human face. Bizarre and delightful. Even the crinkles around the corners of his eyes are the same.

(Only later will it occur to him to wonder just when he became that familiar with the crinkles around the corners of Lorne's eyes.)

[nomorekaraoke]

Lorne shakes his head, tucking the album back in its designated place. "Fish born with pyrokinesis," he murmurs under his breath, absolutely smitten with the turn of phrase.

"So...this will probably sound strange, and out of the blue, and--" He looks at Andrew again, searching his face. "Wanna grab a coffee or something? Out there, in the real world?"

[stilljustandrew]

Out of the blue it certainly is, but ... well, why not?

"Sure," he says, and the grin is fading into a smaller, but definitely pleased, smile.