[for Marcus]

[fifthbeatle]

When Vanya was invited to play the theatre gala, she was thrilled. It offered substantial pay for a featured musicians and - what do you know - they need an experienced violinist. The audition pieces are complicated, but what violinist worth their salt can't play "The Devil Went Down to Georgia?"

By the time she found out the gig included glad-handing donors, it was too late to say no.

She considered more extreme measures of terminating her contract. Perhaps she could hide herself in green room trash. She'd have to wait until she was emptied into the dumpster to escape, but she thinks she can wait it out. Maybe she'll bring a book.

Her attitude changes when they mention in the final rehearsal that the dress code for men and women is the same. This is the best news Vanya's heard since the world didn't end on Valentine's.

So, Vanya gets a suit that very much on purpose does not resemble any suit she might have had in the past. The first time she tries it on, she finds she's smiling like a silly goon in the mirror.

It's been more than 6 months that she's been off those pills, now; she has her family and a fresh start. A whole range of feelings exist between anxious and resigned, and she has a ton of support when any of that gets to be too much.

Does that mean that she's feeling herself? Hell yeah.

The performance goes well, it seems. She hit all the right notes, she had a fucking blast with the double-stop harmonics and people were generally very kind. Of course they are. Very few people tend to tell others they suck to their faces right after a performance. A benefit, especially.

There's an elementary school principal chasing her down to try and make her into the entire music department and she's not about to do it. Vanya managed to dodge her once with a lucky swoop by a local radio DJ whose hand was way too low on her back.

It's possible she broke his champagne flute using mic feedback from the podium, but maybe he was just unlucky.

This second dodge gets intercepted. The woman catches her from across the room and powerwalks toward her. Vanya considers the garbage escape again, but she can't do that to this suit: one of the first really nice things she's ever owned. She's going to spiral. This woman is going to ask her to take a job she doesn't want and Vanya's going to say yes because she won't be able to help herself. Then she'll die slowly from the inside until she loses control of her powers and levels the city. She shuffles around a bit...

And she sees a man standing at a table, close enough that maybe she can arguably say she was engaged in a conversation. They happen to meet eyes at the same time. A few synapses fire.

"Excuse me," she says, eyes a little wider than the average person at rest. "You don't happen to have a cigarette, do you?"

Comments

[pushbackthedarkness]

Marcus has always been of the mind that the arts and culture scene of every city needs to be supported and while he mostly tends to offer that support through a more underground rock scene than something of this nature, he had been convinced by Robin Cressida -- his new boss, he reminds himself -- that he might be able to make a few connections here. Connections that would be good for the Home.

Marcus had asked her if she was certain he was the one she wanted to send, as he's never been particularly known for his tact or his pleasant small talk. With a smile, she'd assured him she was certain he would use his charm to their benefit. In return, he had asked if she wanted him to wear his cassock and collar.

He hadn't, of course, as he's no longer a priest. The suit is one he purchased years ago for one party or another and while it barely gets worn these days, at least he's kept it, as it's necessary now. And the night itself really is wonderful, especially the musical performances. Marcus loves live music, finds himself lost it in, no matter what style, and tonight is no different. It's just the aftermath he finds uncomfortable. So many people with so many masks, pretending to be kinder than they are, pretending to be different, all because they're told they must.

But then someone speaks to him and he turns to find the tiny violinist, her expression a little nervous, and he's charmed by her almost immediately.

"I do," he answers. "But are you asking because you actually smoke or because you're looking for an out to all this schmoozing? If it's the latter, I think we might both be in need of a smoke break."