BACKSEATER !

MISSION:   STARTER  CALL. RE:   @wsoed​

slender  fingers  find  themselves  hovering  over  black   &   white  keys.   gears  are  turning  in  her  head  with  an  attempt  to  visualize  the  keys   &   trying  to  hear  the  note  each  one  makes.   her  head’s  a  bit  fuzzy  with  the  mix  of  distant  memory   &   liquor,  fingers  stroking  the  keys  gently,  trying  to  find  the  right  note  while  other  keys  play  simultaneously.

“   that’s  the  wrong  key,  bob,   ”   she  tells  the  wso  on  the  bench  next  to  her.   she  lets  out  a  laugh.   “   what  are  the  words  to this  song  again?   ”

--- he’s a little foggy around the edges. seen one too many sunrises, as rooster put it once. though the drink sitting on top of the piano is a cup of water this time, paper straw and all, as he tries to flush some of the liquor out of his system. bob squints at the piano keys - there’s a smudge right in the centre of his left lens, from when coyote snagged them off of his face earlier in the evening. it’s not making this any easier.

--- “ are you - sure? ” slight hesitation in his ever softened tone as fingers flex around the stack of used plates in his hands. slightly sticky. unfortunate against the fingertips. “ i can go, i don’t mind. ” the others had left and bob had stayed behind to help clean up the remnants of a particularly spirited halloween party. his grandmother had raised him right, after all - never arrive empty handed, and always offer a helping hand at the end of the evening. “ i didn’t realize it had gotten so late, i’m sorry. i, uh - didn’t want you to have to do all of this by yourself. ” a sheepish smile, crooked as always, graces his features as he gestures with the stack of plates.