#nisafm

     ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER REHEARSAL. it’s good work, trip thinks, the band’s signs of improvement all right there in his diminishing page of mental notes. after their last set, he only has minor critiques : one missed cue, some subpar energy, a slightly off - beat note here and there. little things— nitpicks, really, easily chalked up to exhaustion and over - practice ( if you believe in the concept ). however, it’s those “ little things ” that separate a good band from a great one, and with john corrigan and possibly butch vig on the line, runaway yesterday needs to be better than great. they need to be perfect. 

in  his  defense,  he’s  been  pretty  on  top  of  making  sales  since  clocking  in  this  morning.  it’s  going  to  be  a  long  day,  even  if  he  loves  the  energy  of  it  all  and  he’ll  love  playing,  later,  even  more.  he  deserves  a  break.  he’s  warranted  one   —   legally  …  or  something.  he  wasn’t  planning  on  taking  one,  but  he  spots  someone  familiar  watching  one  of  the  other  bands  performing  in  a  spread  out  crowd  of  onlookers.  really,  it’s  nisa’s  fault  he  doesn’t  make  his  way  back  behind  the  counter  quite  yet,  but  he  doesn’t  mention  that  as  he  comes  up  behind  her  to  wrap  arms  around  her  shoulders,  press  a  kiss  to  the  top  of  her  head  and  then  set  chin  there.  ❛   what  d’you  think  ?   ❜   he  asks,   ❛   scale  of  one  to  nine  ?  obviously  we’re  the  ten.   ❜

for whatever reason, josie was able to charm her way into getting one of the rooms in the town hall to practice for the band. maybe it was because she had such a good reputation, but they didn’t even put up a fight when she asked for it. perhaps it would’ve been different had another person asked, but she didn’t question it. she was just grateful that they had more room to practice. she got there ten minutes early, her father’s ten minutes early is on time and on time is late and late is unacceptable always ringing through her ears. she waved to nisa when she saw the bass player come in. “hey! i put some snacks over there!” she said pointing to the foldable table with chips and cookies. “do you wanna play first or eat snacks first?”

he’s  in  no  place,  in  general,  to  comment  on  his  friends’  subtlety,  but  it  really  hasn’t  been  hard  to  keep  an  eye  on  them  throughout  the  night.  maybe  that’s  just  familiarity,  but  he  actually  hasn’t  seen  much  of  nisa  except  in  little  moments  until  he  spots  her  at  the  bar.  she’s  mid  conversation  when  he  first  catches  sight  of  her,  a  stranger  that  kc’s  quietly  confident  was  drawn  in  by  either  the  skirt  or  the  tights.  it’s  anyone’s  bet,  but  he  lets  them  finish,  not  wanting  to  interrupt  if  it  is  important  before  snatching  the  man’s  seat.  it’s  kind  of  loud  in  here,  he  doesn’t  worry  overly  about  being  heard.   ❛   it  kinda  pisses  me  off  how  good  you  look,   ❜  he  teases,  fake-mourning  as  elbow  sets  on  counter,   ❛   while  i’m  over  here  wearing  navy  for  a  good  cause.   ❜