✂ - point sternly at a chair and tell my muse to sit down (sorry johnny i must terrorize u just a little bit)
" c'mon, i know you know it. " and then, crooning, in an exaggerated transatlantic accent, " play it once, sam, for old time's sake. play 'as time goes by'. "
he shouldn't be pushing his luck like this, getting on the devil's nerves -- and he especially shouldn't be leaning his elbow on the polished grand piano while he does it, either. one of these days that stern point is going to send john straight to the fiery depths, he's sure of it. but he still can't help himself.
speaking of that point, it makes him flinch ( ever so slightly, but his cheeky grin doesn't falter for even a split second ). for a moment john thinks he's being shown the door, but when he follows the invisible line extending past lucifer's fingertip, he sees only a plush velvet chair at one of the front row tables.
for once in his life, john obeys an order and readily takes his seat ( even scoots his chair to the side a bit to see past the little lamp on his table ). the bar is empty apart from the two of them, dimly-lit, cozy, and hazy with smoke from the cigarettes of earlier patrons. john's itching for one, as it just so happens, but he doesn't dare light up -- instead just rests his chin on his hand and waits to be serenaded.
" s'pose we'll always have... well, not paris, i sodding well 'ate the place. but los angeles'll do in a pinch, won't it? "
