[A rugged looking man with a thick fiv...] says "My God. Is that a piano?"
*** [A rugged looking man with a thick fiv...] barely seems to notice the guy talking to him. His gaze is glued on the piano. Without asking for invitation, he gets much closer; almost uncomfortably.
*** [A gaunt, middle-aged American vagabond.] pauses, head lifting slightly at the question. A momentary, soundless glance to either side.
*** Decker Latham has his thought yanked from contemplation as a skeptical, almost rhetorical question flies from the far left of their seats. Another bystander, one who approaches to near breathing distance with a shotgun in two hands. Almost out of reflex, a finger settles near his SLR before relaxing.
Decker Latham says "... yes, it's a piano."
[A rugged looking man with a thick fiv...] says "Do you do requests? Do you...you know songs? AHA? Take on Me?"
*** [A rugged looking man with a thick fiv...] lifts his visor, letting his shotgun hang by its sling. His single eye darts back to the piano, and he cant help but put his left hand on the wooden surface, feeling it. He's almost groping it.
*** [A rugged looking man with a thick fiv...] has some strange glassy eyed expression now, as if taken over by memories. His fingers find a small patch of dust, and it's hard to tell what the exact expression on his face is, but it's the same look an old man gets in recouting a story.
*** Okay, now, -that- question earns the newcomer a proper glance from the impromptu pianist. A sullen, heavy-lidded stare, thin lips pressed into a grimace.
*** Decker Latham stares at the riot helmet wearing figure, a stare reserved for clueless restaurant guests and those who dare talk loudly on their mobile phones in the rational terminal queue. Full tilt, sullen and bordering on outright annoyance.
@OneClassyBanana
