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

[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.

[nomorekaraoke]

"In the sunshine." That last word comes with a touch, a hint, a smidge of awe, as if he's only just realized the possibilities of the ring on his thumb.

"Not stand out, not draw attention, just...walk around wherever we want, however we want." He's already moving to the front door, grabbing his keys. "Come on!" He beams. Hurry.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew follows him. That beam is starting to become contagious.

"What, is this the first time you've been out with the new face on?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Yes! Hello? Night owl, moi? Of course, my good man, of course." He ushers Andrew out the door and into the nearby elevator which dings pleasantly as they approach.

"I...can't remember the last time I spent some time in the sun. In the actual sunlight, not just the beginnings of it as the sun rises."


His palms are starting to sweat with nervous excitement.

[stilljustandrew]

"Well then," he grins, "I'd say you're due."

The excitement, and the human face, makes Lorne look about ten years younger.

[nomorekaraoke]

He finds himself grinning back; on the verge of wanting to pat himself down for fear of something even remotely demonic sticking out someplace. Like his horns, goodness, gracious, please let the glamor be as good as the price tag indicated.

"Oh, I'm overdue. Way, way over. I'm over the rainbow and going into the stratosphere." A beat. "Also? I have not a single clue how far up a rainbow goes, so if I'm wrong about the stratosphere thing, can we just agree to pretend I never said anything?"

Like that comment he made a while back, asking how important Sesame Street is in comparison to The Muppet Show... Might as well attach a neon sign on his forehead saying ILLEGAL ALIEN. It's a lot of stuff to take in and remember when you migrate to a brand new world.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew's giggling. "Not a problem," he assures Lorne. "I don't know either."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Oh, okay. Fabulous." He reaches for the panel, entering some sort of code, pressing the pads of his fingers between the circular buttons denoting floors. Within seconds, a display lights up, counting down from 50 - 49, 48, 47, 46. There's no background music playing inside the elevator, and the only indication that they're now moving is that tight little knot you get somewhere at the center of your torso.

Or maybe that's just the way he's giddy with excitement.

[stilljustandrew]

Giddy with excitement or no, Andrew's feeling the descent in his inner ears as the air pressure steadily ramps up.

"So what's with the --" He gestures toward the panel, careful not to touch anything.

[nomorekaraoke]

"Notice how the buttons don't actually go that far up?" He makes an impish little face. "Different panels for different, um, clients, shall we say? I enter my code and the floor number I want, and presto! Rapid descent is go."

[stilljustandrew]

"Oh that's clever." Andrew looks back at the panel in delighted appreciation. "So it's not gonna stop on any of the floors with, uh ... nosy neighbors?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Nope." His smile takes on a definitely boyish air - ahh, the wonders of technomagick. "And we get a lobby of our own, too." He jabs a thumb behind them as the countdown reaches 15 (13, 12, 11). "Hidden doors. It's very state of the art. Even more so than my last Wherever-I-lay-my-hat."