#beat.start

allegra’s car is full of some weird shit. any time there is something faulty at work, people attempt to throw it away, yet if allegra is working when it happens, it ends up in her backseat instead. wasting art supplies is not something she’ll let happen on her watch, even if the googly eye has two pupils or the gel pen doesn’t sparkle as much as it should. she walks into the second floor with two plastic bags in one hand and a canvas in the other, plopping them down on the table before looking around the room, her eyes landing on someone sitting alone in the corner. “hey,” she says, friendly smile on her face. “i’ve got a bunch of extra art supplies lying around, and i think i’m gonna turn this into, like, a huge collaborative piece for the next exhibit we do. you wanna help out?”

“HEY.” she tries to grab the other’s attention, moving close as if conspiratorially, though her wide eyes and excited features are devoid of anything sinister. “check it out ––” reaching down into her pockets, the petite singer pulls out a heavily crumpled –– albeit still very much legal –– 50 dollar bill. “i found it while i was putting my pants on today ! i guess these really are my lucky pair of jeans.” exclaims kitty happily, glancing down at the worn denim with flower patches, and beaming as she does a little dance ( read as: shuffling from foot to foot ) in place. “do you want to go to get food somewhere ? i don’t really get to say this often but –– my treat !”

👻 FROM 𝒆𝒛𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒏 !

fingers glide slowly over the keys of the live bar’s small electric keyboard. the song is slow - even slower that he’s taking small steps to learn it, but still, teddy hardly minds. it’s a big change from his bands usual upbeat sounds. with the live bar empty, he allows himself to indulge in the small relief. do you look into the mirror, he sings under his breath, not wanting to be heard, to remind yourself you’re there? nobody has ever heard him sing before, and even now that playing alongside pursued by bear’s given him more performing experience, he still holds some reservations about letting the world hear his voice. fingers hit the next chord, and a little louder, he sings, or has somebody’s good night kisses got that covered? eyes glance over to the empty room, except that  — when i’m not being honest, i pretend that  — hands crash down the keys as he catches the gaze of another person in the room. “oh fuck,” he says, voice betraying nervousness. “i was just  — i was, um, yeah. how long have you been standing there?”