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]

It doesn't take him long to notice the very obvious lack of flowing conversation. Granted, that sort of thing comes with the territory of staying in separate rooms for the sake of privacy, but still...

Lorne comes ambling back out in a pair of slate gray-meets-brown jeans that haven't seen much wear and tear (or sunshine for that matter), an unbuttoned, muted blue shirt over his undershirt, and several scarves slung over his shoulder for mixy matchy purposes.

"...see anything you like?"

[stilljustandrew]

He glances over his shoulder as Lorne speaks, and his face lights up in appreciation. "Oh, look at you."

[nomorekaraoke]

There's a first (-or-is-that-second-?) time for everything. Lorne ducks his head with a shrug. "Oh, this old thing." Cue twirling, 360 degrees. "I have to say, though, when you're used to pressed slacks, jeans feel weird."

Says the guy whose idea of casual involves button down shirts and cuff links.

[stilljustandrew]

"And vice versa," Andrew points out.

"You've got an awesome music collection here, you know that?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Touché," retorts Lorne, ambling on over to stand beside his friend-in-the-making, and gives said music collection a scrutinizing look. "Some people hoard post-its, I hoard music."

Even if he hasn't added to his collection in years, now. But that, like so many other things, is a very well kept secret.

[stilljustandrew]

He reaches out and carefully brushes his fingertips over the spine of one record.

"Edith Piaf," he says in distant recognition. "Meg used to like that one."

[nomorekaraoke]

"La Môme," he murmurs, nodding slowly. He reaches out for that very same album, taking it out from its snug little nook to give Andrew a closer look. "Life in Pink... That's a classic. This record was released in 1961, with visuals very typical of the period." Muted colours, soft lens portrait photograph... It's almost like an echo of a time and place, far, far away.

[stilljustandrew]

Andrew leans in to study the cover art.

"Only song of hers I remember is La Vie En Rose."

His accent isn't too bad, but it's still very American.

[nomorekaraoke]

...as if Lorne's pronunciation is any less American, despite his decidedly un-American heritage.

"'Hold me close and hold me fast, the magic spell you cast - this is la vie en rose...' ...I won't mangle the original lyrics, never fear."

[stilljustandrew]

He perks up. "I didn't know it got translated into English."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Oh, yes it did!" Lorne beams. "Edith Piaf recorded it herself, and then came Louis Armstrong and the rest, as they say, is history."

Coincidentally, "I have several versions of it. Seems to be one of those songs that get re-recorded time and time again."

(Lorne's obviously a closet romantic. Shush)

[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..."