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Post by Douglas Pearson on Oct 1, 2012 15:33:43 GMT -6
(ooc: Hope this is okay! I'm writing from the bus stop so very sorry for typos/rushedness :p)
"So THEN! They uncover the Well of Souls..." Doug told Casey as they walked down the street towards O'Connors. There had been a minor lull in the conversation, and in a fit of panic Doug had decided to describe the entire plot of Raiders of the Lost Ark. Luckily for both of them, they were coming upon their destination. "Oh! Ha! Here it is," Doug laughed for no apparent reason as he wrenched the door open. He was wearing a 'cool shirt' in light blue (thanks Sarah) and had amended his date plan several times over the course of the week from 'laser tag' to 'let's watch the Banksy film, get really drunk and tag a political message on a billboard' and finally to a casual night of watching a new band over drinks (thanks again, Sarah).
Doug wandered, slightly disoriented, for a second before claiming an empty table in the corner. "Big debut of The Leonardo DiCaprios, apparently. Exciting eh?" He sat down, fidgeting with the specialty drink menu by turning it over and over in his hands before dropping it on the floor.
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Post by Noah Coulson on Oct 1, 2012 17:53:58 GMT -6
Noah was finishing tuning his guitars as the rest of the band (excluding Greg who had very little to do it would seem, aside from already eyeing potential groupies obviously) rushed around the small staging area, taping down loose wires and making sure their instruments were all ready and they had the set list within sight. 'Set list' was quite a grandiose term for something Noah had finally said ‘fuck it, we’re doing these songs and if you don’t like it, speak now or forever hold your peace’ about half an hour ago and scribbled down for everyone on sheets of paper. To say he was nervous was an understatement. This was their first official gig, technically. And they had only formed at the start of the summer so for all intents and purposes this was, formerly Greg Viswanathan and the NoNames’, now The Leodensian Collective’s first proper gig with the opportunity for them to completely tank and ruin everything. Added onto the fact that Noah was horrendously shy about his music as it was and you had the reason why he was quite comfortably turning to a bit of liquid courage to help him through it.
Raising the bottle of lager (the one Justin had recommended a couple of times before and had become a firm favourite of Noah's), he took another swig from it as he finished up tuning and placed his guitar back on its stand for the time being. Turning to Elliot he gave him a quick thumbs up to make sure the other guy was tuning up okay and then nodded to Harrison on the drums. "Okay, the general plan is... play in time and in tune. And yes this sound advice is the reason I am unfit to be band leader," he added dryly, fiddling with the guitar pick he held in his hands as he spoke, before he looked to Greg, "You do the whole... stage presence thing and just try not to argue with Elliot mid-set... sound fair?" Noah asked lightly. Previous band practices had lead to said development so it wasn't a stretch to suggest it could happen again. He was so preoccupied in his own anxiety and making sure they were ready to play that he hadn't even noticed Doug enter O'Connor's or, more precisely, hadn't noticed who was accompanying him on what was clearly a date.
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Post by Greg Viswanathan on Oct 1, 2012 19:43:58 GMT -6
Greg reclined lazily on the stage while staring up at the ceiling, apparently unperturbed that he was essentially lying on a filthy bar floor. (He was either incredibly relaxed about this whole gig business or he was having difficulty getting up due to the borderline indecent tightness of his skinny jeans -- it was impossible to tell for sure.) Greg had fiercely argued both the band name and the set list for the sake of being contrary, but had no desire whatsoever to actually take on a leadership role and was more than happy to leave that responsibility to Noah. Pretty much all he'd done to prepare was smoke a cigarette, which he insisted was necessary to get to the proper level of gravelly roughness that best suited his attitude and singing style.
"I'll try, but I make no promises. When the spirit of Jim Morrison takes me over, I cannot be held responsible for what I do," Greg explained with his eyes half-closed, wafting his arm around lazily. Propping himself up on his elbows to scan the crowd for groupies, he noticed Noah's ex with another guy and glanced at his bandmate out of the corner of his eye -- did he know? Was this going to throw him off his game mid-set? For the love of god, if this fucked up their gig...
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Post by Samantha Robbins on Oct 1, 2012 20:01:34 GMT -6
Sam bounded up to The Leodensian Collective (!), all bright toothy smiles as she patted Noah on the arm encouragingly. "Shot for courage?" she asked him, holding out the small glass. "It's just vodka, don't worry. I'm all for encouraging Justin's new-found creativity, but it has to end somewhere, okay. Probably around the point about ten minutes ago when he offered me a piss-yellow shot that tasted exactly like buttered popcorn."
Strange flavours aside, the shots were clearly sinking in for Sam and she appeared to be having a grand old time, bouncing lightly on her toes. She'd volunteered to be a 'roadie' for the band, but as she didn't actually know what she was doing, it consisted of a lot of carrying things until someone told her where to put them and yelling out enthusiastic encouragement. She'd also made her own tee-shirts for the band, which... weren't exactly professional quality, but her heart was in the right place. Sam was proudly wearing one which she'd chopped up and safety-pinned to hell and back, and it was all very cute in a DIY sort of way.
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Post by Noah Coulson on Oct 2, 2012 6:10:34 GMT -6
Noah looked down at Greg’s reclining form and murmured, “Mmmm yeah, while I get that, and really I do mate, just try your best, yeah? Same goes for you Elliot. We can’t start arguing mid-set like we do in practice… I don’t think O’Connor would appreciate a mid-break fight either so just cool it, okay?” he warned lightly. Noticing his friend’s eye caught by something he asked, “What? What’s up?” before he was distracted by Sam bounding over to them all.
“Thanks Sam, I appreciate it,” he said, slinging an arm over her shoulder affectionately before accepting the shot she offered. Downing it (he really was pretty nervous) he coughed slightly and abandoned the glass on a nearby table, “I’m all for butter popcorn but not as a taste for shots, call me old fashioned but I like the upfront nature of vodka, Sambuca and tequila. It would make the cinema a very different place if it took off.”
Talking to her quietly then he looked needlessly nervous, “Sooooo listen, I was thinking, do you fancy introducing the band? Because I think without your encouragement, I wouldn’t have ever entertained the idea of starting up a band properly, and whilst I was hoping to give you some better kind of payment for being so supportive, this will have to do until we hit the big bucks,” he joked easily.
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Post by Harrison Grant on Oct 2, 2012 17:27:35 GMT -6
Harrison sat there, his drum kit set up properly, by yours truly of course, Harry rarely let others touch his drums. Somehow everyone always ended up setting something up wrong, and so Harry took it upon himself to carry a lot of the gear in himself (usually Greg’s included as he seemed to think himself too much of a rock star to carry anything himself, except for maybe a guitar case to boost his image).
He finished off his beer and gladly took the water bottle Grace handed him. Unscrewing the top he took a long sip. “He wouldn’t, really,” Harry chimed in giving a big wave to Sam. Harry really liked Sam and Grace. He wondered if Kevin and the rest of the gang were here, he had told them about the gig. There seemed to be quite a few more people filing into O’Connors taking various seats around the small stage. Harry gulped suddenly realising what people meant when they said they had stage fright.
“Do you plan on singing from the floor or you know, being ordinary and singing upright?” he asked Greg with a grin, knowing he would probably hate being referred to as ordinary. Harry and Greg really were close friends even if they enjoyed teasing each other quite a bit.
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Post by Samantha Robbins on Oct 6, 2012 9:21:18 GMT -6
Sam threw her arms around Noah and squeezed him tightly. "Aww, of course!" She practiced the band's name a few times in her head -- The Leodensian Collective, The Leodensian Collective, The Leodensian Collective -- because she was a little tipsy, and if she accidentally called them by the wrong name on their first gig out she'd never forgive herself.
"I have no need for payment. I just want to know that I have carte blanche to jump in on drums if Harry pulls a Keith Moon and passes out mid-set," she explained while looking over Noah's shoulder at Harrison and grinning cheekily.
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Post by Greg Viswanathan on Oct 6, 2012 9:29:56 GMT -6
(ooc: Feel free to imagine/imply that any of my other characters who know these guys are just sort of lingering around )"I might do," Greg replied to Harrison's question while casually running his hand through his hair and squinting at the crowd. He looked over at Noah. "I think you both have to learn to embrace the unpredictability of live performance." He noticed Casey again and sighed. "Look, not to interrupt the love-in or anything, but someone's gotta rip the plaster off here," he muttered while rolling off the stage in a way that suggested movement was a tremendous burden for him (never mind that he'd be singing, jumping around and all but humping the mic stand soon enough). He stood directly behind Noah, put one hand on either side of the guy's face and literally pointed him in the direction of his ex-girlfriend and some random guy. "Couldn't have waited to break up with her until after announcing the band name and where we'd be playing, could you?" Greg jokingly chided him.
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Post by Noah Coulson on Oct 7, 2012 13:32:54 GMT -6
A Sam hug was one of the few hugs Noah did not even slightly flinch away from - instead he gently squeezed her back with a huge smile, "Thanks Robbins, you're the best," he enthused as he let her go and turned back to band. "Of course, feel free! Though I'm guessing Harrison wouldn't even dare pull something like that... right?" he said, turning back to his friend with a warning look.
"Rip the plaster off... wha- I don't know what you mean-" he trailed off then as Greg moved behind him and put a hand on either side of his face, "Mate? Personal space, personal space," he reminded him with a slightly creeped out expression on his face, an expression which morphed into surprise as he saw what Greg was trying to point out to him. Casey was sat, clearly on a date, with some bloke. "Oh," Noah piped up, fairly redundantly, "It's a free world, she can date whoever she wants and bring them in here, she wasn't to know we were playing and besides she shouldn't avoid me, us, I... it's fine," he shrugged, turning away and picking up his guitar again, bending his head over it as he looked like he was retuning it (despite the fact he'd done so barely two minutes ago) and pretending to concentrate very hard on doing so. In truth he just didn't want them to see the expression on his face which betrayed just how devastated he was to see Casey with this bloke.
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Post by Greg Viswanathan on Oct 10, 2012 15:56:45 GMT -6
Greg creepily stroked one of Noah's sideburns before laughing and taking a step back. He put his head down and casually flipped his hair back (gee, it was almost like he did that same motion every ten minutes), then stopped to tie a rolled-up red bandana around his forehead.
"Cool, just put your head down and try to hide behind your guitar. It's what you look like you're trying to do half the time anyway," Greg joked. He didn't really mind his bandmates' shyness; it meant there was no competition for the role of lead singer. He also didn't know how to deal with their... 'relationship issues' in any other way than busting their balls a bit. "Look, don't worry about it. If I do my job right, the rest of the band should be invisible. It's like... you're puppeteers in a stage production of The Lion King and I'm a massive giraffe head."
He shrugged and grinned cheekily over the top of the mic. "Also, that dude looks like a tit. Say the word and I'll piss in his beer, yeah?"
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Post by Justin Biermann on Oct 10, 2012 16:18:51 GMT -6
Justin sat at a booth by himself, flicking a straw wrapper across the table. He had officially resigned from the Auror program just that morning, and was not dealing with it well. Over the past few months -- much to the bewilderment of his supervisors -- he'd quickly plunged from the top of his class to the lower quartile, and it had become increasingly obvious that the job just wasn't what he wanted from his life. Still, he felt... empty. He'd never quit anything before. He felt useless, like everything he'd been working for all of his life meant nothing.
He wasn't working the bar for once (though he couldn't resist making a round of shots to pregame with Sam), but his friends had convinced him to come out tonight. He was, after all, the one who was so insistent on getting Noah's band on stage. So he had decided to do the only thing a proud, depressed gentleman such as himself could: stoically pound down hard liquor until he couldn't see straight.
(ooc: FEEL FREE TO CHEER UP A SAD LAGERDUDE!)
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Post by Sarah Watson on Oct 17, 2012 16:55:36 GMT -6
Marching into O’Connor’s, having come straight from finishing work, the blonde Auror scanned the crowd for one person in particular. She was fairly sure Justin mentioned he wasn’t working that night but that didn’t mean she wasn’t sure to find him at the place sooner or later and, sure enough, she quickly spotted him sat alone and looking a tad melancholy to say the least. Sarah slid into the booth where the boy was sat fixatedly playing with a straw wrapper. “Okay so I’ve just heard the news and… what the actual hell Biermann?!” she asked, as a way of greeting, whilst she dumped her coat and bag next to her on the seat.
Then turning back to face him directly she leant her arms on the table, leaning over it to look probingly at him, “Look I know it was a bit tough love at first but I didn’t actually mean to bully you off the programme entirely. Is that what it is, was I too ‘screw idealism, it won’t get you anywhere in life’? Is it because your performance has been, and no offence here, less than stellar lately? We all have bad patches; it’s no reason to just quit it all,” she argued rapidly, not even giving the poor lad chance to say ‘hey Sarah’ let alone explain, even if he felt like doing so. Then she finished, drew a breath finally, and sighed, “Seriously now… what’s wrong?” she enquired, this time in a slightly less accusatory and dramatic manner – it was almost sympathetic and concerned, two qualities which she sometimes struggled with feeling and/or expressing towards others.
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Post by Justin Biermann on Oct 20, 2012 6:41:24 GMT -6
Justin looked up as Sarah dumped her things on the seat across from him, his chin resting on his arm as he swished the ice around his drink. He patiently waited as she spoke to him, remaining silent until he was relatively sure she had nothing else to say. Finally, he picked his chin up (literally if not metaphorically) and sarcastically said, "Hi Sarah, it's nice to see you too. Please, have a seat."
He didn't really want to talk about it, but he felt he should at least let her know that it wasn't her fault. Justin felt bad for not talking to her first, but he didn't want a lecture and he certainly didn't want to open up the floor for debate on his big life decision. "Look, I've made a conscious choice with my fully-formed adult brain. Don't worry about it. I'll get a second bartending job, or wait tables, and any time left over I'll, I don't know, go read to old people or something. I'm fine."
Justin tapped his fingers on the table. "Did you... were you going to have a drink or did you come all the way here just to talk me into coming back? I mean, it's flattering, really..." he forced a laugh before handing her the drinks menu, which was packed with beers and cocktails named for Justin's friends and printed in his absurdly neat handwriting.
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Post by Sarah Watson on Oct 21, 2012 8:33:05 GMT -6
Not replying to his sarcastic greeting, Sarah merely fixed him with a highly unimpressed look which lingered on her face even as he started to explain how he had maturely and consciously made a decision about his career. “I never said you didn’t ‘make a conscious choice’, I just implied that it’s a stupid choice,” she pointed out honestly with a casual shrug of her shoulders. Sighing softly she looked to Justin seriously, “Why? What was it that made you leave? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re a great bartender, and I’m really not trying to belittle that as a job as hard as it might be to believe, but I just don’t understand… why.”
“Oh ho, be flattered sweetie, I decided to call in on my way home from work just to see your handsome face,” she enthused chirpily with a huge grin and then the expression quickly fell off her face in the next moment as she took the drinks menu he handed her. “Is there any point in looking at this? Why don’t you just tell me what drink I’d like… that’s your thing isn’t it, creating more experimental drinks that your friends like?” she asked. In her own little way, the fact that she’d remembered Justin mentioning his work at O’Connor’s meant she cared and that she was actually pretty open-minded about the idea of his career change. She just wouldn’t admit it out loud.
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Post by Noah Coulson on Oct 21, 2012 8:33:35 GMT -6
“If you want us to remain friends, never stroke my face like that ever again, in fact never stroke my face at all, thanks,” Noah replied to Greg as the other guy let go and stepped away, occupying himself with sorting out his hair – like he hadn’t already done that five minutes ago. Concentrating extremely hard on retuning, he looked up, the picture of innocence, as his friend joked with him, “I’m not hiding, I need to put my head down to see the guitar when I tune,” he argued logically, shrugging lightly as if to feign an air of nonchalance about the whole thing.
“As much as I appreciate The Lion King stage reference I don’t see why I need to be invisible. I’m not hiding, I swear. I mean it was a shit break-up and yeah I did sort of do it but it’s not like I said ‘I hate you, we need to breakup’, I was thinking of her, she deserved better than me forgetting about our dates half the time. And maybe she’s found it in that guy, great, I couldn’t be happier for her,” he assured… no one in particular, perhaps himself, though his slight kicked-puppy expression probably wasn’t the most reassuring of evidence that he really was fine.
He couldn’t help but crack a genuine smile, however, as Greg suggested he piss in this probably very nice guy’s drink. Ugh, if he was nice that would be even worse somehow. If he was a tit it would make the whole thing better so Noah could hate him with good reason rather than just because the guy was now with his ex-girlfriend. “No pissing in drinks is necessary... and hey that’s a general rule for all-time,” he joked easily as he finished his tuning and turned to the other guys, “We all good to go then… Elliot? Harry?”
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