entrancelogs | Like classics, play aces

Entry tags:

Like classics, play aces

Who: Max and OPEN!
Where: The pool, the roof, the youth center, the destruction room, the music room
When: Last two weeks of April
Rating: Probably like G? PG?
Summary: Max does a bunch of stuff all by her lonesome, but all over, so you might just run into her!
The Story:

[The Pool]

It's around midnight that you might wander into the indoor pool area. Glowing blue patterns flow across the walls and ceiling as the underwater lights project the pool's ripples into the room, which is otherwise dim.

For now, Max is content to sit at the edge of the pool, hair soaked from her quick dip. Her legs move slowly beneath the surface, feet now and then breaking water, the soft splash upsetting the silence of the room. She's clearly lost in thought- staring at the pool, but obviously not seeing it, shoulders slumped into a relaxed (if not lazy) pose. Anyone entering the room is unlikely to rouse her, unless they're making a lot of noise.

[The Roof]

The night is quiet and dark, and cold, but Max is undeterred. Not only is she up on the roof at around eleven, but she somehow managed to lug up a telescope as well- no small feat given how sore she is (almost daily training does that to you, especially with Peggy as the instructor. Max swears what that woman wants is impossible sometimes). She's currently using the thing to look up at the sky. There's a small book next to her on constellations, and another booklet on how to use the telescope. She's not likely to find any use out of the former, however: the constellations are that of Earth.

Resting some way away is a messenger bag, a gray Polaroid camera peeking out from its open cover.

[The Youth Center]

In one corner of the Youth Center's arcade area, Max is frantically banging at the controls of an extremely old game. She looks like she's thoroughly enjoying herself, despite the fact that she leads her character to death several times.

"Oh come on!" she yelps as a floating green anvil slams into her character's stomach and flings him through a stone wall, leaving a person-shaped hole. Max gives the machine a little bang with her foot. At the same time she jabs impatiently at the buttons, restarting the game. "It was left that time?!"

These games were deliberately made to eat your time and money. Fortunately neither is a concern in Wonderland.

[The Destruction Room]

Along the hallway on the first floor, near room four, can be heard the sound of breaking plates. Max is inside what Mae once told her is the "destruction room". If someone were actually to open the door and peek inside, they'd find Max lazily pushing plates off the table so they shatter against the ground. Or even just pushing shards of broken china around with her foot. Or even just sitting in one of the chairs, listening to a bit of softly playing music.

In any situation, she starts as someone enters, turning quickly to look at them in surprise.

"H-hey," she stutters in greeting automatically, regardless of who she sees.

[The Music Room]

While Max tends to play guitar inside her own room, the better acoustics in the music room tempt her out now and then, so today she ends up practicing in there. Her own guitar is set to one side, replaced for now by an acoustic one hooked up to an amp- another benefit of the music room. (She'd be willing to have an amp in her own room, but she always worries it would bother the rooms near room seven on the third floor, who... well she barely even knows them. It's a little sad. Chloe used to live in room eight, and now there's a guy there that she's never really made the effort to talk to.)

She plays (quite proficiently) one of her favorite songs. And, more hesitantly, she sings quietly under her breath [not as good as the girl in the video, but it's in the same ballpark].

She stops singing if anyone enters, though they might catch the tail end of a note. In any case she nods at them with a smile, continuing to play, though more quietly.

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"I don't think my skill level really measures up to something like this," he says, shaking his head. "I, uh..."

He's supposed to be getting better at this, isn't he? He's supposed to be more - open. More approachable. And he's been that, but only with the most unsavory aspects of himself. Only the parts he's sure might steer people clear, those neon red warning signs.

"I went into music theory. In - back in college," he says at last, jamming hands into his pockets, shoulders jerking up in a shrug. "That's all."

Max grins. "I don't think anyone's skill level measures up to that grand piano over there..." She shrugs in turn, giving her guitar another idle strum. "So... guitar? Piano? Cow bell? I'm sure you're not as bad as you think. Every artist is their own worst critic."

"Whatever I could find for cheap," he says, completely truthfully. "Once brought home a pair of egg shakers. French horn, too, and I can't even play French horn."

He couldn't play almost anything he had in his house, at least not well - but he liked noodling on them, when he got the chance.

"Pfft." Max lets out a giggle. The idea of Tim walking around and blowing on a French horn is too amusing an image. What else did he buy? Did Tim ever try to make it big with castanets or maracas?

All in all it's painting a strange picture. "So you like music, but... never found your instrument? What about singing?"

Edited 2018-04-15 02:03 (UTC)

"God, no," he says, deadpan. "I think if the last event taught me anything, it's that no one should have to have that inflicted on them on a daily basis."

He's downplaying. He doesn't sound that bad, truth be told - he can carry a tune, and hum things out if it's strictly necessary. But singing would require a finesse and confidence he simply doesn't have.

"I guess stuff with strings is easiest for me to pick up."

She huffs an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "I'm honestly sad I missed it. It'd be so fun to remind you about it. Forever."

Not that she was turning heads with her singing either, but she was told by one kid that her voice was nice. An extremely sweet kid, but hey, a compliment is a compliment.

"Oh man, why don't you grab a guitar and we'll play something?"

"Wh - like, right now?" He blinks, for a moment at an apparent loss for words. He doesn't typically play in front of people just in general, but in front of people he...

That's not strictly true. Max, for all her initial wariness, has given him more chances than he, in all fairness, deserves.

"I mean, I - I dunno. Mostly I just...y'know, it's not like I know actual full songs or anything."

"I could teach you something really simple. Literally just the same notes over and over."

Her voice is hesitant, not pushy, and it's said more as a question than anything else. She knows exactly how weird it can feel to do something you're not good at in front of other people. Hell, even the stuff you are good at.

"Consider it payback for my first-time smoking fiasco."

At this point, it just seems rude to refuse. Like he's taking care to be a dick, when she's really obviously trying to reach out here. He can't help but shoot a slightly frantic look at the door, begging someone to materialize and divert the flow of the conversation, but no one shows.

He's got very little choice, unless he wants to be an asshole. Again.

"...all right, uh. Yeah." It sounds more than a little bit strained, but it's an agreement nonetheless. "What've...what kinda stuff they got in here?"

Worry crosses her face as he glances at the door- and her hands come to a stop, the lazy strumming ending with a drawn out chord.

"...Anything you want I guess? French horn allowed."

She gives him a smile that's between encouraging and apologetic.

"...You know this is optional, right? I'm not locking you in this room until you play Chopsticks or anything."

She punctuates that with a shrug.

“Sorry,” he mutters, not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for but certain it’s warranted nonetheless. “”Guess I’m just...I haven’t really played with people before.”

And doesn’t that sound ten types of pathetic. He slouches toward one of the closets instead - doesn’t focus on any particular instrument, and lets the mansion choose it for him. It delivers a guitar. Uninventive, but he’ll take it.

“And I dunno any, uh...I dunno. What kinda songs do you, uh, like playing?”

Max watches him go through this whole hesitant, slouching routine with far more sympathy than any other feeling. She's been on that end often enough. Unwanted attention, walk into a room and suddenly you have to be all extroverted, and now you're doing something you totally weren't planning on doing.

She'll happily let him stay if he wants to... and if he tries to leave at any point, she'll happily let him do that, too. But as long as he's here...

"I really like acoustic stuff. Uh, songs that are really deep and... I dunno. Not mainstream. I'm not a huge fan of my generation's music."

She puts her guitar aside and reaches out for his.

"I need to tune it for the song I'm gonna teach you, if that's okay...?"

Not mainstream, huh? God, no wonder she and Alex got along. They’re both shameless hipsters, though at least Max can say she’s nice about it.

He hands the thing over without complaint, shrugging loosely.

“Uh. Okay. Sure.” It’s her rodeo, not his. He’s just riding shotgun for a minute, at least until things go south, as they almost inevitably do where he’s concerned. He has that tendency to bring out the worst.

"Sooo..." Max trails off as she starts tuning the guitar- made much easier by the tuner she has on hand. "Tim the music guy. What made you want to take up music theory anyway?"

The question is punctuated by steady notes as Max tries to get the tuning just right.

"I honestly wouldn't have guessed. Though now that you've told me... it kinda fits you like a glove. "

“It was...I dunno. I liked music. Liked hearing how it was put together. Didn’t have a whole lot to listen to in the - growing up, so it was kinda like making up for lost time.”

Fits him like a glove, huh? Does he effortlessly communicate the image of a guitar-toting hipster the same way Alex Kralie practically oozed pretentious film student in a daily fucking basis? Or is it not fair to draw that line of comparison between the two?

Tim frowns.

“How so?” he says, slowly.

"It's the sideburns."

She glances at him with a big grin, before looking once again at the guitar.

"Nah. You know... quiet guy, keeps to himself." She shrugs as she strums the guitar to check the overall tuning. Satisfied, she holds it out for him to take. "Music's kinda... it's own form of conversation, right? Without having to talk to other people."

The sideburns. Even now, they're his calling card. He rolls his eyes very slightly at that, but doesn't contest it. It actually kinda makes sense, when she puts it like that. He, uh. Didn't actually consider why he might be drawn to music, but when she lays it out?

"...guess you're right," he says, low and surprised - plainly it hasn't occurred to him. "Never really thought of it that way. Just kinda - I mean, it just felt like something I could do, when I had to pick a major."

She glances at him as she picks up her own guitar and prepares to play. "I'm glad you didn't go with something boring and safe." It's doubtful he'd have enjoyed something like that.

She shifts the guitar on her leg and starts playing out the simple start to a song. "This is Mountains. The first guitar's really simple- it's just the same five notes over and over."

She plays it out slowly, giving him time to follow.

Edited 2018-05-08 16:20 (UTC)

Well, it’s not as if he was smart enough for any real majors, right? He almost makes the joke, before deciding that self-depreciation isn’t something Max is probably gonna wanna hear right now. Instead, he follows her instruction carefully, and starts picking st the notes, one after another.

He’s a fast learner; hours of idle noodling and working out songs by ear has made him so. It doesn’t take long for him to pick up on the pace and rhythm.

Max nods very slightly in time with the beat, keeping her eyes on Tim's hands but smiling to herself with the realization that he sold himself short. He's not bad at all.

"Okay, keep that up."

She looks down at her own fingers and kicks in with the second guitar, playing through the first minute or two of the song. She lets Tim play even when the first guitar would normally stop.

It's a good two minutes. And she starts to realize how nice it is to have someone to play with. It feels less like a way to waste time, and more like an actual artistic experience- though she doubts anything like this duet would become a regular thing. They're both kind of loners, after all.

She fades out and grins up at him, allowing the song to die down, and for a moment unsure what to say. She wonders if he enjoyed it as much as she did.

Is it really any big shock that he sold himself short? Tim has never seen much about himself worth acknowledging, even if the apparent number of friends he’s made since ending up here speaks to the contrary.

He’s intuitive; he picked up most of what he knows in terms of physical playing by ear, just based off picking up instruments and learning them on his own time. It’s not difficult to keep a steady harmony, and it allows him the time to get inventive with the transitions.

His focus is so wholly absorbed in the task that he doesn’t look up again until the song has faded out, and he blinks.

“...huh,” says Tim. “That...wasn’t half bad, I guess.”

Her smile doesn't fade, though she obviously doubts his comment. "Were we listening to the same thing? That was awesome."

Maybe it's because she finally got to play with someone else, but she honestly thinks that, objectively speaking, they did really well for a first time. She slides the guitar off her knee and places it on a nearby stand.

"I think you've got the groove for this." She gestures at the guitar he's holding. "You should learn it."

"I mean, I...noodle. That's about it. What, you mean, like...professionally?" As professional as it's possible to get in a place like Wonderland, where there are no official venues and nothing remotely akin to an actual music school? There's a million more talented people than him who might, might be willing to teach him a thing or two if he asked, but that requires a level of initiative that he doesn't really consider himself deserving of, just now.

Immediately after he says it, it - sounds even dumber. Professionally. Who the fuck's he kidding?

She looks surprised. "Not for money or anything, just... for yourself. Like a hobby."

There's no way that's a bad idea, right? What's the worst that could happen? If anything it might add some structure to Tim's Wonderland life- which, if it's anything like Max's, is probably interspersed with mind-numbing boredom anyway.

"Also, if another singing event comes along, then at least you'll have a leg up."

It's meant as a joke. But hey, it makes sense, too.

"Yeah, I'm not...much of a vocalist, probably." He says probably because he hasn't actually tried in any genuine capacity, though he's not sure how his secondhand embarrassment would handle actually, legitimately...trying. It's always easier not to try, and simply dismiss yourself as fundamentally unskilled.

"I mean, I do...it is a hobby. Just not a very good one."

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