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xp_logsMarie-Ange stumbles across Irma and Esme playing violin. A deal is struck between the two and... and... are they bonding??
"That." Marie-Ange said, leaning into the doorway and pointing to one of the pair of violins. "Is obnoxious." She pursed her lips and waved a hand disgustedly, clearly more impressed than annoyed. "At least tell me that improvised violin cover mashups are the result of a decade or more of practice and not something you have decided to pick up telepathically?"
14 had sensed her coming before she'd gotten to the door (as she had everyone else). She had been exercising her multitasking abilities, using Esme and Irma to play duets on her violins. It was surprisingly good practice, to be quite honest. It required extreme focus on both parts simultaneously to both play accurately and prevent herself from accidentally playing the same elements on both instruments. Instead, each instrument was playing something just slightly different from the other, and keeping them straight required extreme mental fortitude.
14 had mastered it years ago. Now it was just good practice.
At MA's question, Irma pivoted on her back foot to shoot the older woman a glance and a small smile before the two seamlessly broke into a new piece, Irma playing fiddle while Esme supplied the backing melody and supporting harmonies. Irma winked.
"And now you are showing off." Marie-Ange shot the women a faux-hate look. "I hate all of you, you realize. All five, and your relatives just by proxy. I could not have done that even if I had a twin." She paused. "Different instruments, of course, but improvising with others was always my weakest point when playing."
Irma quickly pivoted around to face the older woman, holding the neck of her voilin with one hand and her bow with the other. She gave a formal (and possibly slightly mocking) bow even as Esme quickly adjusted from playing backup to the leading melody line of a particularly famous Queen song. Irma came out of her bow grinning, tucked her bow under one arm, and made a little heart with her hands.
"And you have still not answered the question." Which was impressive, even from a wee Frost. Ish. Person. Marie-Ange took a slightly graceless seat on a spare piano bench and produced one of her infinite supply of small sketchpads from her bag. "You realize now I am obliged to draw you as an entire orchestra. First violin, flute, trumpet, timpani... " She paused to think. "You cannot have cello, that is mine, perhaps stand bass. Or oboe."
Irma perked up at the mention of the word 'cello'. "You play?" she asked quietly, speaking for the first time since the other woman had entered the room. Behind her, Esme started to play a version of Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite: Prelude on the violin. In 14's opinion, it didn't sound as good being played on the smaller instrument.
"Played. Ages ago. I do not think I have played in years. Cello and bass guitar, when I did." Marie-Ange explained. "For a brief time, there was even a school band. Very typically high school, cover songs and fights over who got to sing lead, and dramatic moments at the homecoming dance." Or prom, or whichever event it was that Jamie had gone all out with that horribly cliche song for Kitty. "I am not even sure I still have my instruments, though I cannot imagine where they might have gone."
Irma nodded, slipping her violin back under her chin and lightly plucking along with her 'sister's' playing. "It's like riding a bike, you know?" she observed, idly.
"Yes, if the bicycle needs tuning and having it's strings replaced, and requires an electronic amplifier." Marie-Ange said, wryly. "I know all the mechanics, but it would take more time than I have to practice enough to come close to your skill."
"We could teach you, if you want?" Irma offered, then rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, sorry. I could teach you. It wouldn't even cost you your secrets, this time. I have a different favor in mind."
"Tutor, really I suppose." Marie-Ange said. "I probably remember most of the basics. I cannot promise I will have the time you might require though. I do not have four sisters to pick up my share of the groceries."
"Isn't that Doug's job?" Irma asked, brow raised and small smirk being the only hints she was kidding.
"My groceries? Oh goodness no, Wade handles making sure I eat. Doug handles making sure I do not get sued by Zipcar." When in doubt, answer the smart-assed question with a straight answer. It was Marie-Ange's favourite go-to response for people who thought they were funny.
14 was quiet for a long moment. "I'm certain there's a story there. I'm equally certain I don't want to hear it," Irma finally said. This was one secret/bit of gossip she was going to let slide, mostly for the sake of her sanity. Plus, she had more important things to worry about at the moment. "And this time, you didn't answer my question."
"I cannot answer the question. You did not tell me what the price was." Marie-Ange said, with a sharply raised eyebrow. "Really, you know better than to make an offer without a price tag if you are going to try to be that sort of deal making family."
"You don't trust me?" Irma asked, putting on her best wounded face and placing a hand on her chest. She paused for a long second before letting it drop. "Makes you smarter than half the people in the building, really" she muttered under her breath, a sardonic twist to her voice. Louder, she added, "I figured an equivalent exchange would be more fitting, this time. I teach you violin, and you teach us cello in return."
"I do not trust anyone, unless I have seen them naked and mostly I do not trust most of those people either." Marie-Ange explained. "I see a lot of naked people lately. Everyone seems to have found out I will draw anyone if they take their pants off." It was not exactly an offer to do art, but it was also not not an offer. "Us, as in all five of you? Or just the musical ones? I am not sure I am cut out for an entire class."
"Then it won't be an entire class," Irma said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. "Just one will be enough." She set her bow down, pausing. "...do people really just show up to you naked? I fear how badly some of the residents would scar Esme should word of her drawing habit come out."
As if to accentuate her point, Esme once again went back to her violin, lightly playing a tune that sounded somewhat between a fair's calliope and the traditional music of a French bistro.
"No, they make appointments and then try to subtly imply they would sit for a nude sketch if I asked, and really, it is more than funny how many people think they are being subtle when they are not at all." Marie-Ange said, with odd pauses between phrases as she tried to figure out why and how she knew that piece of music. "Counter-offer, you provide me someone to play with, and I will not even need the violin lessons. I am happy enough with cello and bass guitar." She paused - deliberately this time, and then took out her phone to text. "Provided my guitar was not one of the casualties of the last few years of moving. For all I know it went to Japan to be part of a girl group."
Subtlety really had become a lost art around the mansion, 14 was finding. She felt more like people would rather bludgeon her over the head with their wants and desires. It was almost enough to take all the fun out of her life.
Almost.
"You could ask Alison, I suppose. If anyone would have sent it to Japan, it would have been her." And if 14 ever had to get within 50 yards of her again and hear that incessant, unceasing J-Pop riff that the girl seemed to thrive on, it would be too soon. "Still, I accept. That deal is more than fair."
There was a long pause, then Irma turned back to look at Esme with a raised brow. "What, no ironically appropriate song to go along with my comments this time?" Beat. "Oh, right, we don't actually like J-Pop. Still, I expected better of you."
Esme just rolled her eyes and broke out into a rather up-tempo version of Ceelo's 'Fuck You'.
Marie-Ange scowled once, oddly, at the mention of Alison Blaire - or perhaps Japan - or perhaps J-Pop and then seemed to shake it off with a quick eye twitch. "Does familial telepathy come with shared taste in music?" She asked, curiously. "And does it bleed over into other tastes? Food? Art? What an interesting thought, what is it like to go to an art museum with the five of you?"
"It's very..." Irma trailed off, waving a hand around in a loose circle while fishing for a word, as though that would somehow perfectly illuminate her meeting to Marie-Ange.
"...quiet," Esme finished for her, barely bothering to glance up from the strings. She'd swapped to something slower and down-tempo. Possibly a Mozart piece?
Irma nodded once to herself. "Yes, quiet. That's a good word. Like..." she leaned against a nearby piece of furniture of one kind or another. "Like that feeling of serenity that comes from a full moon hanging low over a lake, maybe?" She shook her head. "Too poetic. That's Esme's thing. Right, just think of it like this. Every thing you do, and everything you conciously and unconsciously process, you acknowledge in your head. If you're hungry, what step comes next in your current dance, that stray thought wondering wondering just who it actually was that first looked at a beehive and decided that bees had to be hiding something delicious in there..." she paused, almost as if daring the older woman to laugh at that last one. "Oh, and of course every single song you've ever had stuck in your head."
"Now, imagine that you're saying all of that aloud, every moment of every day. And no matter where you are, there's four other people who can hear you. And they're doing the same thing, and you can hear all of them. At the same time. And it never ends."
That thought hung heavy in the air for just a moment. "Museums aren't like that. You can give yourself over to art so fully that you aren't truly thinking anymore. You're just feeling whatever it is that you were meant to feel. Phoebe isn't running through the twenty six takedowns she can do from a standing position while grappling. Celeste isn't snarkishly commenting on everyone's fashion choices to the rest of us... it's just very quiet. Very... very zen."
"I perfectly understand." Marie-Ange's face broke into a smile that was clearly genuine and honest. "There is a reason I have hidden an art studio in a supply closet here. Poorly hidden, given the number of visitors lately but it is still labeled as a supply closet, even if it has a convenient window for ventilation." The phone in Marie-Ange's hand buzzed and she glanced at it. "Ah, it seems my cello and guitar did survive abrupt moves, and did not travel to far away lands without my personal authorization." She flipped the phone to show two instrument cases, both propped open. "I certainly need to replace those strings, and find time to do long overdue maintenance."
Irma studied the photo. "That's a nice guitar. The color is very you," she commented idly, as though she wasn't even putting any thought into what she was saying. "When do you think you'll have them ready by?" She paused, then pulled out her own phone and tapped it a few times. "Oh, right, also, do you know where I can buy a cello around here that isn't a Music & Arts?"
"What is your budget, and do you care if it is an attempt at forging an Amati?" The question came just behind a quickly tapped out text to Irma's phone. "If you do not care about the forgery attempt, and will not try to pass it off as an Amati, I can get you one for cost. I have a friend." She slid her fingers over the phone screen and checked her calendar. "And assuming I do not send myself to Spain to try to dig out an old contact before he does something very stupid? I have time to do instrument maintenance next week. If I have to go to Spain, it will longer." Marie-Ange shut one eye, and then frowned. "Spain is looking more likely by the day though. He is a very stubborn contact. I hate the Spanish music scene."
"What? Not a fan of castanets?" Irma asked in lightly-accented Castilian Spanish. "And," she followed up, swapping back to English, "I suppose it truly matters how good your forgery friend is then, isn't it? Couldn't be that good if they're willing to part with it at cost, after all," she sniffed lightly in disdain.
"Not a fan of over-synthesized Euro-trash techno remixed by spoiled disowned nobility with too much time and not enough taste. But, ah no, my contact? He owes me goodness, nine or ten favours." She owed Neil probably a half dozen herself, one did not keep count. "He knows a fellow who is running a con, it requires forging an Amati, so he has access to the attempts." He was sleeping with the fellow, or Marie-Ange didn't know Neil half as well as she thought. "Anyone he vouches for, I trust to be very skilled."
"I hope whatever he's planning is more complex than just trying to pass off a forged instrument at auction or something. Not only would it be boring, you'd likely be able to get decent results with just a decent cello if you combined it with running a modified Fiddle Game." Still, the other woman had a point. She did need a cello if she was going to make this work. "If you trust him, then that sounds acceptable. It'd certainly be more proper than something off Amazon."
She paused a beat, which Esme used to mutter something that sounded distinctly like "or 3D printed" under her breath. "When will you know about Spain, then?"
"If it is the con I think it is, the target even deserves it." Marie-Ange offered. "I should know in a day or two if my contact is about to get himself in trouble. He is a little predictable, even without my, ah, would might you call it. Imprecise method of cheating?"
Irma hummed lightly in acknowledgement. "I'd ask what they'd done to deserve being sold a fake cello, but I realized half way through forming the sentence that I don't care." She slipped her violin back under her chin. "Hope things go well with your friend in Spain, then. Save you a trip, and all that."
"I will text you. One of you. I always seem to find the wrong sister to text." This was accompanied by a wave of Marie-Ange's phone. "And ah, you see, you should care - because I would not have mentioned the target if it was not in one of your interest groups. Your... call it homework, Ladybugs, is to find my friend of a friend's target and find out why I mentioned them."
Irma's only expression was a cocked brow as she searched for something in Marie-Ange's expression. Finally, after a rather long break, she shrugged. "Sure, why not. Not like I've got anything else to do around here, anyway."
"That." Marie-Ange said, leaning into the doorway and pointing to one of the pair of violins. "Is obnoxious." She pursed her lips and waved a hand disgustedly, clearly more impressed than annoyed. "At least tell me that improvised violin cover mashups are the result of a decade or more of practice and not something you have decided to pick up telepathically?"
14 had sensed her coming before she'd gotten to the door (as she had everyone else). She had been exercising her multitasking abilities, using Esme and Irma to play duets on her violins. It was surprisingly good practice, to be quite honest. It required extreme focus on both parts simultaneously to both play accurately and prevent herself from accidentally playing the same elements on both instruments. Instead, each instrument was playing something just slightly different from the other, and keeping them straight required extreme mental fortitude.
14 had mastered it years ago. Now it was just good practice.
At MA's question, Irma pivoted on her back foot to shoot the older woman a glance and a small smile before the two seamlessly broke into a new piece, Irma playing fiddle while Esme supplied the backing melody and supporting harmonies. Irma winked.
"And now you are showing off." Marie-Ange shot the women a faux-hate look. "I hate all of you, you realize. All five, and your relatives just by proxy. I could not have done that even if I had a twin." She paused. "Different instruments, of course, but improvising with others was always my weakest point when playing."
Irma quickly pivoted around to face the older woman, holding the neck of her voilin with one hand and her bow with the other. She gave a formal (and possibly slightly mocking) bow even as Esme quickly adjusted from playing backup to the leading melody line of a particularly famous Queen song. Irma came out of her bow grinning, tucked her bow under one arm, and made a little heart with her hands.
"And you have still not answered the question." Which was impressive, even from a wee Frost. Ish. Person. Marie-Ange took a slightly graceless seat on a spare piano bench and produced one of her infinite supply of small sketchpads from her bag. "You realize now I am obliged to draw you as an entire orchestra. First violin, flute, trumpet, timpani... " She paused to think. "You cannot have cello, that is mine, perhaps stand bass. Or oboe."
Irma perked up at the mention of the word 'cello'. "You play?" she asked quietly, speaking for the first time since the other woman had entered the room. Behind her, Esme started to play a version of Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite: Prelude on the violin. In 14's opinion, it didn't sound as good being played on the smaller instrument.
"Played. Ages ago. I do not think I have played in years. Cello and bass guitar, when I did." Marie-Ange explained. "For a brief time, there was even a school band. Very typically high school, cover songs and fights over who got to sing lead, and dramatic moments at the homecoming dance." Or prom, or whichever event it was that Jamie had gone all out with that horribly cliche song for Kitty. "I am not even sure I still have my instruments, though I cannot imagine where they might have gone."
Irma nodded, slipping her violin back under her chin and lightly plucking along with her 'sister's' playing. "It's like riding a bike, you know?" she observed, idly.
"Yes, if the bicycle needs tuning and having it's strings replaced, and requires an electronic amplifier." Marie-Ange said, wryly. "I know all the mechanics, but it would take more time than I have to practice enough to come close to your skill."
"We could teach you, if you want?" Irma offered, then rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, sorry. I could teach you. It wouldn't even cost you your secrets, this time. I have a different favor in mind."
"Tutor, really I suppose." Marie-Ange said. "I probably remember most of the basics. I cannot promise I will have the time you might require though. I do not have four sisters to pick up my share of the groceries."
"Isn't that Doug's job?" Irma asked, brow raised and small smirk being the only hints she was kidding.
"My groceries? Oh goodness no, Wade handles making sure I eat. Doug handles making sure I do not get sued by Zipcar." When in doubt, answer the smart-assed question with a straight answer. It was Marie-Ange's favourite go-to response for people who thought they were funny.
14 was quiet for a long moment. "I'm certain there's a story there. I'm equally certain I don't want to hear it," Irma finally said. This was one secret/bit of gossip she was going to let slide, mostly for the sake of her sanity. Plus, she had more important things to worry about at the moment. "And this time, you didn't answer my question."
"I cannot answer the question. You did not tell me what the price was." Marie-Ange said, with a sharply raised eyebrow. "Really, you know better than to make an offer without a price tag if you are going to try to be that sort of deal making family."
"You don't trust me?" Irma asked, putting on her best wounded face and placing a hand on her chest. She paused for a long second before letting it drop. "Makes you smarter than half the people in the building, really" she muttered under her breath, a sardonic twist to her voice. Louder, she added, "I figured an equivalent exchange would be more fitting, this time. I teach you violin, and you teach us cello in return."
"I do not trust anyone, unless I have seen them naked and mostly I do not trust most of those people either." Marie-Ange explained. "I see a lot of naked people lately. Everyone seems to have found out I will draw anyone if they take their pants off." It was not exactly an offer to do art, but it was also not not an offer. "Us, as in all five of you? Or just the musical ones? I am not sure I am cut out for an entire class."
"Then it won't be an entire class," Irma said, as if it were the most simple thing in the world. "Just one will be enough." She set her bow down, pausing. "...do people really just show up to you naked? I fear how badly some of the residents would scar Esme should word of her drawing habit come out."
As if to accentuate her point, Esme once again went back to her violin, lightly playing a tune that sounded somewhat between a fair's calliope and the traditional music of a French bistro.
"No, they make appointments and then try to subtly imply they would sit for a nude sketch if I asked, and really, it is more than funny how many people think they are being subtle when they are not at all." Marie-Ange said, with odd pauses between phrases as she tried to figure out why and how she knew that piece of music. "Counter-offer, you provide me someone to play with, and I will not even need the violin lessons. I am happy enough with cello and bass guitar." She paused - deliberately this time, and then took out her phone to text. "Provided my guitar was not one of the casualties of the last few years of moving. For all I know it went to Japan to be part of a girl group."
Subtlety really had become a lost art around the mansion, 14 was finding. She felt more like people would rather bludgeon her over the head with their wants and desires. It was almost enough to take all the fun out of her life.
Almost.
"You could ask Alison, I suppose. If anyone would have sent it to Japan, it would have been her." And if 14 ever had to get within 50 yards of her again and hear that incessant, unceasing J-Pop riff that the girl seemed to thrive on, it would be too soon. "Still, I accept. That deal is more than fair."
There was a long pause, then Irma turned back to look at Esme with a raised brow. "What, no ironically appropriate song to go along with my comments this time?" Beat. "Oh, right, we don't actually like J-Pop. Still, I expected better of you."
Esme just rolled her eyes and broke out into a rather up-tempo version of Ceelo's 'Fuck You'.
Marie-Ange scowled once, oddly, at the mention of Alison Blaire - or perhaps Japan - or perhaps J-Pop and then seemed to shake it off with a quick eye twitch. "Does familial telepathy come with shared taste in music?" She asked, curiously. "And does it bleed over into other tastes? Food? Art? What an interesting thought, what is it like to go to an art museum with the five of you?"
"It's very..." Irma trailed off, waving a hand around in a loose circle while fishing for a word, as though that would somehow perfectly illuminate her meeting to Marie-Ange.
"...quiet," Esme finished for her, barely bothering to glance up from the strings. She'd swapped to something slower and down-tempo. Possibly a Mozart piece?
Irma nodded once to herself. "Yes, quiet. That's a good word. Like..." she leaned against a nearby piece of furniture of one kind or another. "Like that feeling of serenity that comes from a full moon hanging low over a lake, maybe?" She shook her head. "Too poetic. That's Esme's thing. Right, just think of it like this. Every thing you do, and everything you conciously and unconsciously process, you acknowledge in your head. If you're hungry, what step comes next in your current dance, that stray thought wondering wondering just who it actually was that first looked at a beehive and decided that bees had to be hiding something delicious in there..." she paused, almost as if daring the older woman to laugh at that last one. "Oh, and of course every single song you've ever had stuck in your head."
"Now, imagine that you're saying all of that aloud, every moment of every day. And no matter where you are, there's four other people who can hear you. And they're doing the same thing, and you can hear all of them. At the same time. And it never ends."
That thought hung heavy in the air for just a moment. "Museums aren't like that. You can give yourself over to art so fully that you aren't truly thinking anymore. You're just feeling whatever it is that you were meant to feel. Phoebe isn't running through the twenty six takedowns she can do from a standing position while grappling. Celeste isn't snarkishly commenting on everyone's fashion choices to the rest of us... it's just very quiet. Very... very zen."
"I perfectly understand." Marie-Ange's face broke into a smile that was clearly genuine and honest. "There is a reason I have hidden an art studio in a supply closet here. Poorly hidden, given the number of visitors lately but it is still labeled as a supply closet, even if it has a convenient window for ventilation." The phone in Marie-Ange's hand buzzed and she glanced at it. "Ah, it seems my cello and guitar did survive abrupt moves, and did not travel to far away lands without my personal authorization." She flipped the phone to show two instrument cases, both propped open. "I certainly need to replace those strings, and find time to do long overdue maintenance."
Irma studied the photo. "That's a nice guitar. The color is very you," she commented idly, as though she wasn't even putting any thought into what she was saying. "When do you think you'll have them ready by?" She paused, then pulled out her own phone and tapped it a few times. "Oh, right, also, do you know where I can buy a cello around here that isn't a Music & Arts?"
"What is your budget, and do you care if it is an attempt at forging an Amati?" The question came just behind a quickly tapped out text to Irma's phone. "If you do not care about the forgery attempt, and will not try to pass it off as an Amati, I can get you one for cost. I have a friend." She slid her fingers over the phone screen and checked her calendar. "And assuming I do not send myself to Spain to try to dig out an old contact before he does something very stupid? I have time to do instrument maintenance next week. If I have to go to Spain, it will longer." Marie-Ange shut one eye, and then frowned. "Spain is looking more likely by the day though. He is a very stubborn contact. I hate the Spanish music scene."
"What? Not a fan of castanets?" Irma asked in lightly-accented Castilian Spanish. "And," she followed up, swapping back to English, "I suppose it truly matters how good your forgery friend is then, isn't it? Couldn't be that good if they're willing to part with it at cost, after all," she sniffed lightly in disdain.
"Not a fan of over-synthesized Euro-trash techno remixed by spoiled disowned nobility with too much time and not enough taste. But, ah no, my contact? He owes me goodness, nine or ten favours." She owed Neil probably a half dozen herself, one did not keep count. "He knows a fellow who is running a con, it requires forging an Amati, so he has access to the attempts." He was sleeping with the fellow, or Marie-Ange didn't know Neil half as well as she thought. "Anyone he vouches for, I trust to be very skilled."
"I hope whatever he's planning is more complex than just trying to pass off a forged instrument at auction or something. Not only would it be boring, you'd likely be able to get decent results with just a decent cello if you combined it with running a modified Fiddle Game." Still, the other woman had a point. She did need a cello if she was going to make this work. "If you trust him, then that sounds acceptable. It'd certainly be more proper than something off Amazon."
She paused a beat, which Esme used to mutter something that sounded distinctly like "or 3D printed" under her breath. "When will you know about Spain, then?"
"If it is the con I think it is, the target even deserves it." Marie-Ange offered. "I should know in a day or two if my contact is about to get himself in trouble. He is a little predictable, even without my, ah, would might you call it. Imprecise method of cheating?"
Irma hummed lightly in acknowledgement. "I'd ask what they'd done to deserve being sold a fake cello, but I realized half way through forming the sentence that I don't care." She slipped her violin back under her chin. "Hope things go well with your friend in Spain, then. Save you a trip, and all that."
"I will text you. One of you. I always seem to find the wrong sister to text." This was accompanied by a wave of Marie-Ange's phone. "And ah, you see, you should care - because I would not have mentioned the target if it was not in one of your interest groups. Your... call it homework, Ladybugs, is to find my friend of a friend's target and find out why I mentioned them."
Irma's only expression was a cocked brow as she searched for something in Marie-Ange's expression. Finally, after a rather long break, she shrugged. "Sure, why not. Not like I've got anything else to do around here, anyway."
