brand new

now this was a hypothetical harley was in the mood to entertain. “ who do you think’s, like, most likely to write it ? ” would it be considered an autobiography ? a memoir ? would they market it as fiction ? or, like all good horror movies, fiction but ‘based on real events’ ? “ y’know, it’s a good thing we’re, like, in the age of online publishing. getting it out would be real hard if there was… a dome. ” between this and the plans she and belva had devised for the royal evening glitter gown, she’d really missed her calling in marketing !

as far as harley remembered ( and, although she didn’t have the greatest memory, it would’ve been difficult to forget something that happened only a few weeks ago ), roman was a new addition – not to the family and their flock ( he was probably one of the oldest in that sense ), but to the decision to actually get himself wrapped up in all the unnecessary drama mystery. but, from the maybe two sentences they’d exchanged, he seemed like a good guy ! and he didn’t look like a goth shrimp, so he had that one up on his brother. “ table for two, ” she accepted, actually quite glad to have some company.

"Maybe I’ll write it if I make it out. See you on the other side,” he suggests half joking, a part of him wondering which side he would rather be on. Inside the dome everything was insane on a day to day basis but he was able to meet new people and understand things taht he had not before however outside his normal life existed unaffected by the craziness that seemed to occur wherever you turned. Perhaps he would never win when it came to choosing to stay or go, both options troubled him greatly. They’d never done so in the past. 

As the waitress guides them to the table, he is paying attention to her. She is a strange woman admittedly. It’s not the same as everyone else around here being weird, she’s her own type of weird and it seems that it’s an inherited trait between the children of that family. What did people say about nature vs nurture again? “Your brother is an interesting guy,” Roman remarked as he sat down on his side of the booth, the corners of his lips resting in a distant smile but his eyes lit up with intrigue. It wasn’t mystery that interested him but the sheer ridiculousness of certain people in Vertmoor that he would never understand, “He seems to know everybody around here. I think that’s quite a talent.”

It’s strange to think that until a few weeks ago Roman was oceans away, living a life that must have been so different to the one that he has now stepped back into. Did leaving Vertmoor make him miss his childhood home, or has returning to the small town made him crave his new home an ocean away even more? The blonde listens and nods, eyes widening slightly at the word kangaroo. Years of training to remain blank faced at parties is the only thing that is able to keep a horrified expression from her face, but perhaps a bit of the shock slips through as she opens her mouth to reply. “Oh. Cool!” Feeling that her response is a bit pitiful, she continues with, “You know, I think I would stick to the pavlova. With lots of lovely berries on top, I’m sure it would be very tasty.” Belva isn’t big on sweets, but she would personally take pavolva over the little creatures from Winnie the Pooh any day. “Do you miss Australia lots?” she asks curiously, glancing over at him as the next person in line speaks with a worker.

"That’s the best plan,” he half laughs noticing her response. Maybe she didn’t know that everyone thought Australian’s loved eating Kangaroos. It was true that some probably did. 

Did he miss Australia? It was a complicated question. He missed it because it was his home but somehow he also missed having a home. Vertmoor had never felt like home but England certainly had in the past, it was strange that his home was now a completely different country with so many other things attached to it. “Yeah, I do. I miss my house, you know, just some place to sit and relax and be on my own that isn’t a budget hotel room. It’s somewhere that’s just mine,” he trails off, feeling that probably sums it all up. The hotel is fine but it’s not somewhere where his mind is at ease. It’s not personalised and full of things and his soft duvet cover where he can snuggle up with a good book. “I’ve liked being here for the people and I’ll miss that when I go home but I’ve lived in Australia a long time, I think that’s where my real home is now.”

A small grin rises to the blonde’s painted lips, and she shakes her head slightly at Roman’s joke. “Hopefully not. Even though it kinda feels like that’s always what’s happening,” she answers honestly. At this point, it would make sense. Every time whoever it was that was controlling that giant snow globe shook it, more crazy things would happen in Vertmoor. If Belva was the type to know what a metaphor was, perhaps she’d recognize that in many ways Roman and her’s father was the man shaking the snow globe, even from beyond the grave. He’d certainly kept them under his thumb while he was alive, so was it much of a surprise that he was still controlling the narrative now? 

Although Belva’s never been to the cafe, she’d checked their menu online before asking the driver to drop her off there. “I’m just going with their acai bowl. The pictures on their Insta made it look really tasty.” It was a healthy option, dietitian approved, and Belva loved fresh fruit. “What are you going to get, Roman? How’s the food back in England compare to Australia?” She vaguely remembers someone mentioning that was where he was before, and her knowledge on the country is pretty limited, so she’s curious. Maybe Australia was secretly an amazing food scene and Roman was dying to get back.

"Mmm,” he responded although to be quite honest it wouldn’t be the first choice of his own. He understood health and fitness but it seemed these days people restricted themselves way too much. They were in their primes, if they didn’t eat what they wanted now then by the time they started it would be too late! That was easy to say for him though, he’d always had a fast metabolism and never really had to be concerned about the shape of his body. It was obvious though that things were different for her, to be the pride of the family. Looks meant a hell of a lot around here, he was glad that at least that was irrelevant to him, “To be honest, it’s not always that different. Other than the kangaroo, that’s what everyone wants to talk about. nobody wants to talk about the amazing pavlova.”

if she’d lived the last six years of her life without whatever it was that she’d submitted to the time capsule, she supposed the could… live the rest of her life without it. of course, she’d put it in expecting to get it back someday, even if it’d been two decades down the line, but… losing is inevitable, isn’t it ? car keys… cities… continents… faces… people. yes, in the physical sense – not just in the sense of memory – people were part of that list. maybe trying to catch a break from all of the death and the reminder of the inevitability of it all was why she’d gone to the very outskirts. maybe it was wanting to switch things up for once and not go to the manor ( it was not a house ). maybe it was just fate !

who was he…? she knew him. vaguely, but she knew him. so who was he…? roman ! the biological son whose mere presence had scared a ‘psychic’ away. and that was a shame. “ i agree. i mean, it’s just gonna spread like a virus if it’s not contained soon – gotta pull a stephen king. ” she’d decided on that reference to sound slightly more… like she knew things than ‘gotta pull a the simpsons movie!’

"Stephen King would of been in his element,” he mused, although it probably shouldn’t of been so easy to say. In another universe then perhaps he would of struggled with comparing his Father’s gritty bludgeoning to a twisted fictional novel but in this one it was perfectly fine, “One day maybe this will just be another book causing a stir.”

He looked at Harley, who was probably the better of two evils and by evils he meant two great fools which he was beginning to realise the Johnsons were. This town was full of faces and some were familiar but others were surprising, bemusing and in a lot of cases extremely strange. He wondered why she was in a cafe on the outskirts of town and what she was hiding from -- was that presumptions? He wouldn’t of asked even if he really did want to know. He turned as he tugged a menu from the stack and he gestured towards her, “Table for two?” he asked, wondering if she wanted to sit with him or not.

Yesterday was a complete blur, with River’s texts and then Demir’s visit answering (at least some) of the questions that had arisen when they’d first found that photo album. Of course, however, it only brought more questions. The reveal had kept her up late that night, the blonde staring at the ceiling as if it had some way of revealing the answers to the rest of her questions. However, it seemed that the house on the hill only ever revealed its secrets on its terms. Regardless, the morning had come without much rest, and she’d sluggishly pulled herself out of bed and gotten ready for a meeting in London with her agent and a potential client. After a few hours discussing possible contracts, shoots, and appearances, she’d hopped in an Uber for the ride home, asking to be dropped off at a little cafe on the way so she could grab something to eat for the first time that day.

Dressed to the nines as she’d just come from what was essentially a job interview, the blonde waited in line, absentmindedly checking her phone before a familiar voice causes her to pause. Looking over her shoulder, she’s surprised to see Roman, his words causing her to let out a short exhale that was almost a laugh. “That would be the worst snow globe ever. Just…a big, creepy house and all these little tiny people next to it looking stressed.”

When he had first arrived he had thought of the orphans as nothing but placeholders and perhaps he was right in assuming that his Father had used them for his own gain but he still didn’t understand the motivation. Once he had been soured by the thought that man had cared more about them than his family who were now six feet under or halfway across the world but his opinion was shifting, it was clear to him that his Father didn’t understand love. He certainly hadn’t loved any of them the way that he should of. Before now, though, he had never considered that his Father was simply... evil. He was disappointed by his memories and he was disappointed by all that had happened but he had never thought that.

He looked at Belva and the way she almost laughed and wondered who she would of been otherwise, had she never stepped foot into his own Father’s odd world. What difference might it of made to all their lives? He felt sorry for her. She was merely a person and it was clear to him that she did not truly understand the implications of all that they had found out, not because like others she was ignoring them but because she just didn’t have the capacity to interpret all the information. “I suppose it would be. Hopefully no shaking, though,” Roman pointed out, offering a smile that was somewhat genuine as he glanced back at a now open menu in his hands to examine. He changed the subject swiftly, “What are you getting?”

After the video showing July, safe and well, River had been grappling with how she felt. It wasn’t good, that much she knew, but she wasn’t sure if she was sad or angry. From that video, it made it seem like he had been well within his right mind when he disappeared…without her. Not that she had expected them to run away together or anything, not after he had been the one left with the house and had come out of Vidal’s murder in pretty good shape. Things in Vertmoor were going well for him and for her by extension - to a small degree. Everything had seemed to be looking up. She should have realized none of that was going to last.

When she could, she had taken to going a little outside of Vertmoor during her downtime. It wasn’t that she couldn’t talk to someone, Belva had offered plenty of times, but River didn’t want to talk to anyone about this yet. Or ever. So it was a little surprising when Roman walked into the cafe, clearly she hadn’t been the only one with the idea to get out of town. Averting her eyes, River was hoping he’d go on like everyone else and not notice she was there but no such luck. “I think it might be too late for that.”

"You’re probably right about that,” he looked at the girl recognising her more and more with each passing moment. It seemed that they were constantly bumping into each other, roped and wrapped up in the grand old mystery that Roman was fighting not to be a part of solving. Would it be better to know why his Father was killed? There were so many options, maybe they should just put it into a hat and pull out a reason and killer and be done with it. It seemed many would of loved to stake claim to the murder which in itself was just plain odd, “Vertmoor,” he shook his head, a look of almost disbelief written into the old expression, “What a place.”

He didn’t know the full history of July Athanas, he didn’t know that this girl was involved with him as anything more than a towns person and to be frank, he would never ask. Roman was not the type of person who wanted to be involved in the business of others. It was much better to stand to the side and let them deal with things themselves, when it came to July’s disappearance he didn’t have much to say at all but he was quite certain that the town and hsi siblings may have missed the implication that the young man had decided to run off to Disney World and get married to... an older man who was apparently the boyfriend of another of their siblings? This was exactly why he was minding his own damn business, maybe failure to see logic was contagious. he definitely didn’t want to catch that. “So, what brings you outside of town? A little escape? Mini break?”

it was still early … perhaps just after ten in the morning. earlier than he’d like to be awake , after how he’d spent the day before . he was exhausted . his need of caffeine had outweighed his desperation to remain in bed. it had not , however , outweighed his desperation to avoid everyone from this fucking town. that’s why he’d picked this small little shop on the outskirts of town. it rarely had more than a car or two in the drive through , and even less people inside . he’d hoped that this would mean he wouldn’t see anyone he knew. or that knew him . but alas , this was definitely not the case . 

in walked roman. they didn’t know each other well, but he knew roman had been close with estelle && christian when they were younger. he didn’t know how that friendship remained today , but at least he could put a name to the face . something he could so rarely do . 

‘ i don’t know about you , but i’m starting to think that this town needs to go under one of those giant glass domes to make sure the insanity is contained. ‘ well , he hadn’t expected for the guy to make him laugh … but here he was , a sharp laugh bubbling from between chapped lips . ❝ you think a dome is enough to contain this fucking town ? they’d have it cracked in under a minute . ❞

Did he think a dome was enough? Probably not, it seemed like there were too many intelligent people to be kept at bay and yet they didn’t seem to have a clue what was going on. How many scientists did it take to solve a mystery? Was that a new version of how many people does it take to change a light bulb? Had too many chefs simply ruined the broth around here? It was the only logical explanation for everything happening. 

“You’re probably right,” he admitted, unable to hide the edges of disdain. He wasn’t ever the type of person to try and hide how he was feeling, it was better to say things as they were and get on with life but it seemed not many others shared his opinion. Judging only by the reactions to an old film reel he could already sense tensions mounting and that it was not going to end well for anybody. He thanked God that his involvement was so slight around here that most people probably didn’t even care enough to try asking him his thoughts on the matter. He had plenty that need not be shared, “But it’s a solid idea, I might suffer it if the town ever has a meeting. They could probably do with a meeting... as long as certain individuals weren’t there.” He was talking about Chandler.

Walking into the entrance of a cafe that was a little further out of town he vaguely recognised someone. Perhaps they were trying to avoid the drama too. Maybe that was the problem, everyone was swept up in their emotions and unable to connect anything together. Thank God he didn’t care about anything here, “I don’t know about you but I’m starting to think that this town needs to go under one of those giant glass domes to make sure the insanity is contained.”

silver tongue really is failing him.    christian breathes a huff of frustration,   folding his arms over his chest and glancing up at the man who had once been one of his closest friends.    stupid.    being that close to someone doesn’t ever really bode well.    that’s a lesson he’s drilled into his own head time and again now. 

“   okay.    i’m angry.   ”       he spreads his hands.       “   and?    want to hold hands and talk through it or what?   ”

"no, that would be weird.” he’s not a logical or unfeeling person, it’s not that he is unaffected, he simply doesn’t have anything else to say. it is a foreign situation to him, one that he has no solution too. it’s true that roman avoided situations that caused him stress or pain, that was why he had ran away and eventually moved away for good. it hadn’t been any form of abandonment to the people in his life, other than of course his father. but did he owe an explanation to a friend from so many years ago for doing what was right for himself? “i’m sorry if you’re upset that i didn’t say good bye,” he admits painfully -- it’s hard to admit to doing anything remotely wrong after all ! “it wasn’t personal.”

A genuine smile pulls at her painted lips, and she’s grateful that despite the calamity of their lives recently, Roman still seems so positive. His response makes her reflect on the pageant, on her honest admission that she wished she was more artistic. More and more, recently, Belva’s been wondering what her life may have been like if her father had encouraged her to do more. To be more. Although she can’t quite picture what she would do in the arts, she nods at his suggestion, replying with a quiet, “I’ll definitely think about it.” She listens curiously to Roman’s response, having so many questions about what his life was like after the house upon the hill, but not wanting to ruin the easy conversation that they have going on. “That sounds really lovely. Do you still play a lot? What kind of music do you like to play?” The curiosity is clear in her tone, her chin tilted towards the man as she takes another sip of her drink. She finds people who are able to do things, to create things, interesting. It’s why she can’t help but peek through the doorway whenever Cassia’s door is open, curious to see if they’re working on anything new. It’s also the reason she’d stepped into the cafe earlier.

He doesn’t push it any further. More and more he picks up on the fact that the people who lived in that house don’t seem to know themselves any more than they knew who his Father really was. Even he was starting to think he didn’t know him. He’d never thought his Father was evil until now. He didn’t want to second guess or think about it, perhaps the murder had been the end of it all and should stay that way. “All sorts,” he tells her honestly, he’s picked up a lot of different styles. That was the benefit of his Mother, she had instilled him with a passion for music, it was one of the ways he could still remember her as she was before whatever had happened to her inside her brain. “I don’t play all that much now,” he admits, again the truth. He doesn’t need to. He is happy now. Life marches on. Music is only a momentary outlet, “But I’ve been thinking it might lighten the mood to learn something new. Maybe it was about time for something new around here. Something that hasn’t been heard before.”

anger sparks hot in the pit of his stomach ,   a hard ache lodging itself just below his breastbone ,   and christian takes a moment to swallow against it.    anger is not going to do him any good ;   it’ll only twist his tongue and cloud what he really wants to say ,   not that he knows what that is.    funny.    once ,   he’d spent a great deal of time thinking about what he would say to roman if he ever showed his face here again ,   but now ,   the words won’t come.    how annoying.    how embarrassing. 

“   great ,   ”      he says in the end.   and though the words are innocent enough ,   his tone could cut glass.    it’s the best he can do.       “   so glad to see you back here,   old friend.   ”

the two of them couldn’t be more different. they’d always behaved and reacted in opposing ways. roman is looking at him and his tone alone is enough to tell him that things are not great. perhaps it is strange to see someone so angry about things that happened years ago. surely he should understand that roman wanted to escape this place full of haunted memories... if he even truly knew about that at all.

“if you’re angry then it’s best to just say, it won’t do any good going back and forth talking like a pair of estranged passive aggressive family members,” roman says as if it’s a suggestion. it’s that easy for him. some things are to be confronted quickly, others to be pushed aside forever.

tw: murder suicide, blood.

How cruel is the golden rule When the lives we lived are only golden-plated?

And I knew that the lights of the city were too heavy for me And though I carry karats for everyone to see

Although Belva’s feelings on the bio siblings were complicated, so much so that she couldn’t even begin to sort through them, it was hard not to like Roman. He seemed genuinely kind, in much the same way that Verity did, and could she really blame them for who their father was? Not anymore than they could blame her for hers, right? She sits down across from him, a small smile on her lips as she takes a sip of her blueberry smoothie and settles into the cafe. Looking up at his question, she’s quick to shake her head. “Not really, no,” she replies. Growing up, she hadn’t even been encouraged to speak, let alone sing. Although her singing voice is far from unpleasant, it’s the kind that works best for morning showers and lullabies to sleepy babies (not that she’s ever used it for such a purpose). Besides, she was too concerned about her image to do something so vulnerable in front of others. “I just thought it might be nice to listen to other people who do.” She takes notice of the guitar on his lap, gesturing to it before asking, “Are you here to play your instrument?” 

"Maybe you should think about the arts, there’s something for everyone,” he points out int he same was as a school guidance counsellor talks to students. Roman had a very specific energy that had never been very suited to being an Athanas for blood nor money. He had almost none of the personality traits that his Father had always portrayed. He was beginning to realise that as much as he hated his Father and what he had done, he didn’t know much about it at all. Ignorance had been bliss but even with some slight knowledge he still didn’t have even an inkling of the entire situation. He had heart too much and seen enough to know he wanted to push it down until he no longer heard his brothers voice calling to him. That part of life was meant to be over, “Yep, good old guitar, I learnt it when I was a teen. I guess it was an escape,” he grins, “Just a little way to get away from life and real things. It’s a good way to talk without really saying anything at all.”

𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙾𝚆𝙽  𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃  𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙳  𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴  𝚃𝙾  𝙷𝙸𝙼  ,  and  there  was  always  an  uncertainty  whether  the  emotions  he  felt  were  the  right  ones  to  feel  at  any  moment  .  but  time  after  time  ,  it  proved  that  he  couldn’t  always  deal  with  everything  ,  especially  people  ,  with  pragmatism  and  a  careful  analysis  of  the  facts  .  he  wished  he  was  more  empathetic  ,  to  have  an  ability  to  actually  understand  people’s  emotions  rather  than  just  their  circumstances  .  but  it  was  difficult    —  he  could  barely  understand  his  own  when  he  was  always  taught  to  be  objective  than  subjective  .    though  ,  it  shouldn’t  be  an  excuse  .    there  was  guilt  coursing  through  his  veins    —  he  wished  he  could  have  gone  after  roman  after  he  walked  out  of  the  pageant  ,  he  wished  he  could  have  offered  comfort  and  be  someone  roman  could  find  solace  with  .  but  he  couldn’t  be  that  person  ,  for  he  didn’t  know  what  to  say  and  he  didn’t  know  how  to  act  on  his  desires  that  required  a  great  deal  of  vulnerability  from  both  sides  .  it  wasn’t  a  walk  through  strawberry  fields  where  they  could  just  be  at  ease  and  appreciate  everything  around  them    .  

and  for  a  moment  ,  he  wished  he  could  just  write  to  roman  .  it  would  be  so  much  easier  than  knowing  what  to  say  and  do  when  at  someone’s  door  .  at  least  ,  a  letter  was  tangible    —  something  from  his  world  deposited  into  a  mailbox  and  delivered  into  roman’s  world  ,  a  piece  of  himself  that  could  be  held  ,  read  ,  a  showcase  of  vulnerability  without  being  present  .    but  did  he  want  to  be  that  person  forever  ?  close  and  yet  always  so  far  ?  someone  so  impersonal  even  in  person  ?  always  so  mechanical  and  rigid  .    he  always  thought  about  everything  so  much  ,  always  subjected  himself  through  mental  torture  and  distress  to  find  answers  to  all  his  questions  ,  but  it  was  a  choice      —  and  he  could  always  choose  a  different  path  .  he  always  needed  to  be  inquisitive  ,  dedicated  ,  and  astute  to  earn  his  stepfather’s  respect  and  affection  (  𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚅𝙸𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽  𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆𝚂  𝙰𝙽𝙳  𝙵𝙰𝙼𝙸𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚂  𝙷𝙴  𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚆  𝙳𝚄𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴  𝚈𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚂  ,  they  all  suggested  how  special  a  father’s  love  must  be  so  he  held  onto  ricardo  haines  and  did  everything  that  would  give  him  that  )  .  but  now  ,  his  affections  for  roman  asked  for  something  that  he  wasn’t  sure  he  knew  how  to  be  :  spontaneous  ,  honest  ,  a  solacing  presence  rather  than  just  more  intrusions  and  questions    .    he  needed  to  be  a  better  friend  .  he  wanted  to  try  ,  god  ,  he  wanted  to  try  .  

❝               i’ve  been  looking  all  over  for  you  ,      ❞    though  ,  he  decided  to  drink a bit of  wine  beforehand    —    testing  out  just  how  good  of  a  social  lubricant  alcohol  truly  was  .    he  sat  beside  roman  ,  gaze  lingering  upon  the  other’s  features  in  hopes  that  he  could  tell  if  it  was  the  right  time  to  talk  about  the  things  that  bothered  them  .  maybe  not  ,    so  he  decided  to  just  be  there  and  wait  if  roman  would  ever  want  to  talk  about  it  all  .      ❝      for  a  minute  ,  i  thought  you  already  left  …  caught  the  first  plane  out  of  here  and  back  to  australia  .  i  mean  ,  i  don’t  think  anyone  could  blame  you  if  you  did  that    —    but  i  would  have  been  hurt  if  you  didn’t  at  least  say  goodbye  .    ❞    he  let  out  a  small  laugh  ,  though  it  wasn’t  entirely  a  joke  .  but  roman  was  still  there  ,  so  there  wasn’t  point  to  think  about  it  now  .  he  smiled  ,  gaze  flickering  down  to  the  guitar  then  back  at  roman  .

❝       so  ,  are  you  going  to  play  that  ?  i  think  the  crowd  is  waiting  to  be  serenaded  by  you  .    ❞

he smiles as he lowers the screen with softness brimming at every edge. the world begs and pleads for him to become hard but he has tried for years to now allow that to happen. over and over again he has damn right refused to allow the things that happened to him change his path. he didn’t want to be his father’s son because his father had allowed so many wrongs to happen because he did nothing at all but now he is afraid that it led vidal into actions that he should of held fire on. there is no reason behind it all. in a letter to a dear friend he may of written about the truth as to why he didn’t wish to return like a dusty old teddy bear laying in a crawl space where two young boys had hidden until two became one and there was nobody looking for them... but it was not a letter and he did not say it at all.

“i came out of the blue but i’d at least say good bye,” he tells, examining the features of the other mans face. he doesn’t have to say what he means because roman already knows. he has read behind lines for years, understood gibberish and reason and babbling about a million things. how alex came across on paper was more refined, more specific but all the same, roman understood. limitless patience and this time it seemed that the man said exactly what he meant in a round about kind of way, something more concise than he had ever offered before. the world was fast and roman had a certain gentleness when it came to alex because he wondered if perhaps it was the world that was too fast but also too slow for his mind to quite stick to one subject at a time, “you don’t have to worry about me disappearing without paying my dues or saying something. i’m not the type to just walk out on anyone,” except his father. he didn’t tell anyone that, did he? in a way it had been him who left, him who walked out the door and left his father (the original vidal athanas) in the despair and carnage of their lives. 

“that was definitely my plan,” he says, one hand rested on guitar as he leaned forwards and into the conversation, “you know what they say -- and don’t you dare correct me with any fact or accuracies -- music can be a good healing agent.”