xp_logs | Jono & Doug: Getting the band back together

Where Doug happens to be at the mansion and pays Jono a visit to catch up on old times.

Well, would you look at this?" Doug asked, loud enough to be heard inside the office that he'd stopped outside. He'd known of its existence, but hadn't stopped by during his trips to the mansion. Still, this required a little goodnatured ribbing. "Mister Starsmore," he said in a friendly mocking sort of way, rapping a knuckle against the brass nameplate as he pushed the door open and walked in. "I think Sid Vicious is turning over in his grave, to see the two greatest denizens of Brit-punk to ever come to this mansion go all respectable and crap." He flopped bonelessly into a chair in front of Jono's desk and gave him a cheeky grin.

Jono looked up from what could charitably be called his "desk" in what was laughingly referred to as his "office", which in reality was a converted soloist's room on the far end of the music room. "First off," he began as he shoved a pile of papers to the side and pointed accusingly, "If you're comparing me to Sid bloody Vicious, I'm going to beat you over the head with a Joe Strummer record. Second, if you're calling me 'respectable', I'll beat you over the head with... well, a Sid Vicious record. How've ye been, Doug?"

Doug waved his hand airily. "Oh, passable. Traveling the world, being an international man of mystery, you know me." He grinned and shook his head. "Joe Strummer, heh. That reminds me of this song by a group I like called Cowboy Mouth. The song is basically about how this guy kicks his girlfriend to the curb because she didn't know who Joe Strummer was." He paused, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. "Does -Paige- know who Joe Strummer was?" he asked.

Jono's eyes went cold for a moment. "If everyone would take a holiday from casting doubts on me and Paige, I think I'd rather appreciate it. Although, I do hear Forge moved on to stealing YOUR girlfriend recently, mate." If he had a mouth, Jono would be smiling as he leaned forward. "Getting to be a bit of a habit for the lad, wouldn't you say?"

"Whoa, whoa, time out there, sparky. No casting doubts, just poking a harmless silly bit of fun. A bit touchy, are we?" Doug asked, refusing to rise to the bait. "Besides, I'd broken up with Angie in pretty spectacular fashion at that point, so it's hard to consider it stealing. Besides, it turned out to be some convoluted attempt to get me to admit that yes, I was still madly in love with her. So all's well that ends well on that score."

Internally, Jono scoffed at the idea of Forge being intentionally noble, but if that was what Doug believed, oh well. "So Sarah tells me you're off running the secret agent racket with Pete, eh? Bit of a change for you."

Doug cocked his head for a moment. Looked like Jono had a bit of a blind spot where Forge was concerned. He knew Forge couldn't be the easiest to get along with, but he couldn't blame Jono. It wasn't like he didn't have a few people he wasn't inclined to think the best of himself. "Not much to say, really," he replied. "Pete offered me a job, and I took it. Was a little daytime soap-ish with Angie coming to work there and all, but it's rewarding stuff."

"Job's a job, right?" Jono said and spread his arms to take in the makeshift office. "And here I am, putting thoughts in the head of the next generation. Was a time when I couldn't wait to get away from here, I thought. Like being away from the madhouse would make everything right again."

He stopped for a while, lost in thought, then shrugged. "But it ain't gonna be right like it was, so there's just as good a place here, I figure."

There was something deeper in that statement, but Doug didn't know that it would behoove him to dig into it. "There are worse places to hang your hat," he opined. "Of course, I say that as the guy who moved out to be a superspy in training or whatever, but hey."

"Ah, but do you get dental with that?" Jono quipped as he searched his desk fruitlessly for a guitar pick before finding one in his pocket. "Trust me, mate, I doubt anything around here's likely to surprise me much anymore. You and Angie doing the spy thing, Terry running off to Las Vegas and getting married, Jamie packing up and following Kitty to college - someone's got to stay here and keep the old band together, so to speak."

"She -accidentally- got married," Doug corrected whimsically. "She was very clear on that point. Of course, she rather invalidated that point by proceeding to have a very nice and official wedding. One which, I'll note, she didn't invite this particular band-mate to."

"Oh, well, if it was on accident..." Jono responded, an overtone of amusement coloring his psionic 'voice'. He looked around the small office for a moment, then scratched at the edge of his wrappings. "Say, Marie-Ange still happen to play her bass guitar? God knows how much she used to complain about the damned cello."

Doug nodded. "She still keeps her hand in. Mostly to destress and relax than anything, but she keeps it tuned and handy." He shrugged. "Hell, I was sort of playing around with learning rhythm guitar from Alison before they all headed to California. Sometimes we plunk around a bit together."

Jono thought for a moment as he readjusted the wrappings around his jaw. "I want to give these kids something to do," he replied after a moment. "Something other than me talking at them in class and having them play 'Chopsticks' for the millionth time. If I hit up Terry, d'you think you could talk Angie into carting her gear over here and maybe getting a small PCIF reunion together? Might give some of the new blood ideas."

Doug's eyes sparkled, his face giving the response even before he opened his mouth. "A reunion? Sure! Sounds like a lot of fun. How about we make a deal. I'll talk Angie into it if you teach me how to do more than just fumblefinger at guitar."

Jono nodded. "Deal. Without a drummer, we'll need a passable rhythm guitarist and a bass player that knows her arse from her elbow. Unfortunately, we only have you two."

"Your confidence in our musical ability is underwhelming. Angie at least knows her arse from her elbow. I, on the other hand, take full responsibility for my hack-itude. Which is why I'm foisting it off on you, because then if I suck, I can say it's all -your- fault." Doug grinned, full of good humor.

"Best excuse of them all, mate."