Sea and Sky

Who: Angelo and Shoshannah
Where: One More Round, then the streets
When: Late

"All she'd ever known was the sea," Angelo murmured from his seat on stage, his voice carrying in a velvet echo through the microphone, "The sea and the sky. Always at night, never with stars. Black waves below her, black sky above, echoin' off each other into the infinite an' back to go deeper into the dark. So deep that sometimes she thought she saw color there. Blues an' purples, rich an' resplendent... but she was the only one who ever saw them." He was in a thoughtful mood tonight, that was for sure, and so far it seemed contagious.

Down at the Round, Angelo never held full sway when he and the other Seraphim played a set. Sometimes a song would get hearty applause, sometimes a story would captivate people and leave a sheen in their eyes when the house lights came up, but tonight? Something about this night, this story... it echoed in him the same as how he spoke of the sky. He'd been feeling solid lately; grounded, anchored into his life. It wasn't necessarily a bad feeling, either; work was stable, his supply of opium had just been restocked, his days were as pleasant as the city ever offered. But even if it wasn't a bad feeling? It was a dull one.

Very little in the past few years of his life could panic Angelo the way that the dullness could, the idea that he could predict this night, or the day that followed it, was one that spooked him. Feel so solid I could shatter, he'd thought, and the simple, silent admission had prompted the beginning of a change. Fluidity, that was what he needed. To be like water, like rain or waves that crashed into the solid and wore it down. "She slept through what everyone said was day, the time when the folk around her said they could see what was ahead, cuz she'd looked. And there wasn't nothin' she wanted to see there. Peeked once, squinted into grey that rolled on all sides like a fog, shone too bright in her eyes," he went on, starting a lazy sway in his seat to the low thrum of music around him.

"This girl? She din't need their day: she had her dreams, see, and they was brighter than the fog of life she was livin' in, sailin' on waters that never led nowhere." Was he getting too strange or esoteric? Angelo didn't particularly care tonight; he'd liked the idea that had birthed this story, it needed to be released from the confines of his mind. "Now, in her dreams? There was color so rich an' real that every time she woke, she felt like she was dreamin'. S'like... what sort of real life's limited to black an' grey? To pale skin, bleached hair, no smiles, no names, no purpose?" he asked, tallying each question on his fingers as he staggered from side to side without leaving his seat, "No life she wanted to live, that's what kind. So... she lived in dreams. When they ended? She stared into dark, felt herself falling."

He raised his trumpet from beside his seat, pressing his lips to the mouthpiece and beginning to coax a low stream of notes from it to the sound of a few pleased calls from the crowd. It was the metaphor of the fall captured in his breath and the deft play of his fingers on the horn, an easy slide of music that wove with the soft tempo of the drums behind him and the heartbeat of bass to his side, and it left a smile on Angelo's lips as he lowered the horn. "Every day, or what passed for it, she filled in that world she saw in her mind. She saw blue sky, blue water, felt wind in her hair an' tasted the breeze itself when it carried a promise of more. She told the people who carried her, 'this is real, more real than what we got', but they din't listen. They was too focused on what might come from the grey, scared of the possible change even if they wanted it too."

Reaching to his other side, Angelo plucked his drink from the floor and took a long drink, giving his bandmates the chance to jam for a brief moment. "An' desperation's a funny thing, people. She was desperate for the rest of them to believe, and the rest of them was desperate to just keep goin' even if they had no point to. Wasn't no give, wasn't no take, just a stalemate like only family can have," Angelo said with a laugh, earning one from the crowd in kind, "'Til... one night? She dreamed again. She saw an end to the water, saw the sky itself rain down hard earth, showerin' so much dirt that it filled up the sea, locked her in place, buried the people she had. Nightmares... first's the worst, right? Like when you was small, an' behind your eyes you saw somethin' wrong. Din' matter what it was, just that it made you tremble an' reach out for the nearest thing to offer comfort. 'Cept that for her? When she woke? Wasn't nothing in reach."

He gave a sad smile there, looking down at the floor for a somber moment. More and more, his stories were picking up this kind of mood. It worried Angelo, it left him wondering if he'd see a day where there wasn't a tale to tell any more. "She woke to black overhead, to the ebb and flow of tides below her, to her heart shakin' ten times harder than the sea and she wondered... was it true? Had they been lost in the solid feel that seemed like all she'd wanted? She stared into the black, asked for an answer, an' when she looked away she saw it. Orange, red, green. All distant, all new to her eyes. Fire light past trees, not that she'd seen one before. But she saw them now, out there past the sea and the craft that was her world, and she knew there were others out there. Wherever they was, it was where they'd been headin' all along."

This gave him hope, the fact that the stories he never really thought out in advance found their way back to the flecks of hope he sustained himself with. "For the first time, she stepped off that ship. Put her bare feet into cold water, felt the sand 'tween her toes," Angelo said with a slow smile creeping on his lips, "And she understood. Her people, they'd never dreamed. Never seen the things that make no sense but give us hope. And her? She'd dreamed too much, missed the truth of how long the trip towards a better life can take. Her toes was numb, her heart was poundin', she still felt the terror of that last dream... that first nightmare. For all of it that scared her? It felt good, knowin' she was alive, that it was a point between wakin' and sleepin'."

With a last rattle from the drums, Angelo sat back as the house lights raised slightly, signaling the end of his set. "If you're lookin' for a point? Mine's that we choose one or the other, when maybe we should be choosin' both,. S'life, people: the spot where you might be awake, but you wanna dream..." he murmured into the mic, smiling at the muted applause, "We's Angel and the Seraphim, y'all, thanks for stickin' with us tonight. Get home safe when you head that way." He rose from his seat with a self-conscious laugh, stopping for a handshake from a patron seated close to the stage before sauntering towards the bar to claim one of the drinks he normally got for free on a performance night.

Esoteric might be the perfect word, for as Shoshannah sat at the bar she felt that the man on stage was telling her life story. Speaking right to her and no one else. It was an odd sense, to be able to focus on him and mute out the rest of the bar. There might have been a man beside her trying to talk to her, there might have been a drink waiting for her at the bar behind her, but Shoshannah saw none of it. All that mattered was how she felt right now. It was like Angelo had somehow opened her brain and found her deepest, most intimate feelings about herself, plucked them out, and twisted them into a sad, beautiful story that she could never have made sense of on her own.

Her day had been so full that Shoshannah had felt she was still dreaming. It wouldn't surprise her if she was walking through one of her dreams, like the girl in his story did so often. Lunch with Ian at the Drake had shifted to a rare meeting with Cheyenne at NightHawk's Diner which had shifted to her here, now, caught up on every word Angelo gave her. But the sense of dream-like fluidity she'd felt the entire day certainly wasn't helping her condition. She felt exhausted now and as much as she wished she could keep her eyes open and glued to Angelo on the stage, Shoshannah was fighting a losing battle.

Still, she fought it as long as she could. Angelo's words stirred something from her eyes that she rarely let through. Tears brimmed her eyes, but she was so caught up in his tale that she wiped at them without noticing. Unluckily for Shoshannah, the last little section of his story was lost on her. The hopeful tale of the girl realizing a balance was better than one side or the other had passed right over her head, literally, as she drooped on the stool of the bar. Her head lay resting against her arm, eyes closed, breathing even and set like she was perfectly at peace in her impromptu nap...all except for the wetness of tears on her cheeks.

Sliding into an open spot at the bar, Angelo leaned an elbow onto the gouged, stained wood surface as he aimed a lopsided grin to the barkeep. "Yeah, slide me a Pushkin," he requested, bracing his other elbow with the first and letting his head hang at an angle to study the rest of the bar. The Round was never too bright, not even with the house lights up, but the extra light that did shine gave plenty of vantage for him to observe from. He saw countless reasons as to why Angelo preferred this place to the Kitten, details that most people wouldn't count as positives.

The crowd was less sharply dressed, less clean in general, the drinks were cheaper, there was no bouncer checking names off a list. It was, for all it's flaws, a place that was honest about itself. Angelo would take that honesty with the grime and harshness any day of the week. Or he would usually, this instance only diverging as he took his drink and sipped from it, looking down the length of the bar. Was that woman... sleeping? She wasn't a regular, that was for sure: the normal pass-out drunks got hauled to the curb by the barkeep, and this woman's only outside interference was a weasel of a man trying to ease his hand around the straps of her purse.

Angelo took a heavier drink to mask his nerves, stepping away from his spot at the bar and moving on the would-be thief with a confidence he never felt when confronting someone. "Don't," he said plainly as he reached the guy, "Seriously, friend. Don't say you wasn't gonna, don't tell me to mind my biz, don't do a goddamn thing 'cept turn an' walk." He would've had a fight on his hands, a fight Angelo would lose, if it wasn't for the shapes of his bandmates watching from the crowd without trying to hide themselves, and he breathed easier when the other guy scoffed and walked away. Sighing in relief, Angelo took another swallow from his glass before gently shaking Shoshannah's arm. "Scuse me, miss? You okay?"

On the third shake, Shoshannah's eyes flashed open. Like a sleeping animal jolted awake, she scanned her surroundings like second nature. The bar, the bartender, a man at her side...a specific man. The performer. Assessing the situation, Shoshannah realized that only one thing could have happened. Her condition finally caught up to her.

Wiping the stray tear-tracks from her cheeks, Shoshannah put a shaky, albeit genuine, smile on her lips. "Yes, yes, I'm fine really. I guess I'm just too tired." Change the subject, Shoshannah, before he thinks you're completely bonkers. "You were amazing up there! That story..This sounds cheesy, but that story really touched me." She searched for his eyes, locking on them once she'd gotten herself together enough to find them. "..Thank you so much for sharing it with us."

For a long moment there, Angelo was stunned, speechless, held captive by what he saw. Her wide eyes, the shimmer of tear-tracks on Shoshannah's cheeks that caught the bar's light before she wiped them dry, the real smile she wore despite her obvious unease. Angelo wanted to paint her in that moment, to capture it in streaks of vibrant blues and greens with soft strokes of off-white for the flawless skin. He wasn't a man who believed any artist could have a single muse, because he'd just stumbled across one.

Warmth flooded deep brown eyes as he snapped back to his senses, and Angelo wasn't the type to ever smile any less than fully, genuinely. He did so now, cheeks bunching in a wide grin that showed hints of teeth, not because of the praise she'd given him so much as because of her. "Jimmy, get the lady a cup a'that char you call coffee," Angelo said to the barkeep without ever breaking his gaze away from Shoshannah, "Make it an Irish, even. On me." Hoping he wouldn't be rebuked for it, Angelo slipped into the seat next to her languidly. "Doesn't sound like any kind'a cheese I've tried," he assured her in a warm murmur, "An' I'm glad, miss. Both that it meant somethin' for you, an' that you was willin' to let me share it." Shifting his drink to his left hand, Angelo offered his right her way hopefully. "Angelo Lacoste, at your service."

Shoshannah seemed just as floored by Angelo. There was an otherworldly sense of kindness in him. She could see it in his eyes and his smile and she knew, right off the bat, that there was something very genuine she liked about this man. An Irish coffee? She knew she'd heard of the terminology before, but couldn't remember ever having one. Despite this, she didn't ask him what it was and instead turned to keep facing him when he sat in the seat next to her.

A few little laughs later, Shoshannah was shaking his hand, unable to keep the smile from her face. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Lacoste. I'm Shoshannah Hagel but you can call me Shoshannah. Or Shannah." She shrugged a bit, only letting go of his hand when a cup of coffee was placed infront of her. She thanked the bartender and wrapped her hands around it, letting the wamrth resonate as far through her as possible. Taking a small sip, (and realizing at once just how hot it was), Shoshannah swallowed it quickly, letting the aftertaste of alcohol coat her throat. Ooooh, so that was what an Irish coffee was. "Thank you for the coffee. Let's hope it'll wake me up some. Do you perform here often?"

"Jus' Angelo," he corrected with a hint of mirth dancing in his eyes. He would never be a 'Mr.', that was a term of respect, and he was a man who commanded small handfuls of it on his best moments. "Or Angel, folks 'round here like the stage name. Guessin' that extra o takes up time they could be usin' on their drinks," Angelo joked quietly, raptly fixed on Shannah. She didn't have the painted airs of the women he saw down at the Kitten Club, no arrogance clinging to a cloud of perfume or reflecting off of gemstones. No, this was a real charm, a natural one. Youth, maybe, or enthusiasm. Zeal for livin', he thought.

He was too far down the economic ladder to have any idea about the connotations of her last name, though, so when Shannah finally released his hand, Angelo just nodded slightly. "Few nights a week. Wish it was more, but it don' pay too much. I blow the horn down at the Kitten Club every other night, 'cept that's..." white people's music "...a lil' flat for me. Pays my rent, but it don't nourish me none." Sipping his drink, Angelo reached blindly beyond the edge of the bar, feeling around until his fingers closed on a short stub of pencil and a napkin.

"Angelo, then." His stage name made sense. With the voice of an angel and the kindness of one not too far behind, Shoshannah could see why people might be more fond of that than his real name. "But I don't think it's the drinks that keep them from using your full name. Your voice is captivating." She sipped again at the coffee, real curiosity playing at her eyes. Tangy, but sweet. She gave a fleeting thought as to whether the coffee would drown out any smell of the alcohol in it, knowing her mother would have a fit if she knew Shoshannah was drinking. It didn't matter much, though. The more the drank it, the more she liked it.

"You played the trumpet beautifully too. I've never had much luck with instruments." She caught a glance of his hand moving but figured it was none of her business. Maybe he was just looking for a napkin or something? "I haven't been there either. I should really go sometime, but you say you like this place better?" Shoshannah was one of the lucky ones. She didn't have to worry about money...yet. She would when she moved out, but that was another matter entirely and one for a different time. Right now, there was just something about the way Angelo's eyes were that kept her focused on them. Something she was very grateful for, because she could feel the insistent tug of sleep calling her from the back of her mind.

If he'd somehow known her thoughts in that moment, Angelo would've recalled the tale he'd just told; sea and sky reflecting off of each other. It fit this instance as he was drawn in by the vitality he saw, letting it coax his own love of the world into his eyes in kind. Of course, those were twisting and slippery thoughts that would likely unnerve a total stranger, so instead of speaking them Angelo laughed in quiet embarassment from being praised. "This place..." he murmured in the same velvet tone he had when performing, "It's honest. Folk here might be a rough crowd? But they know it, they don' hide it. Uptown at the club? Well, sometimes I feel like the ones with the best cut suits, the most jewelry, the drinks that cost more than my rent? They's a rough crowd too, they jus' hide it better."

He knew there were shady dealings, after all. Angelo was smart enough to stay out of them, but he wasn't blind. "I guess what I like so much here is that honesty," he explained as he smoothed his napkin flat along the bar, laying the edge of the pencil against it and lightly drawing an arc. "Cuz here, when someone shows who isn't so rough? Who'll listen to my fool self jawin' on stage? S'easier to find 'em, catch a smile or a kind word. An' that makes my day," he finished, winking to Shoshannah playfully.

"This place doesn't seem so bad." Her optimism was telling of someone very naive, but it was something that Shoshannah held onto tightly. The world was like a shiny, bright apple to her, one she'd been dying to take a bite of her whole life and was just now getting the chance to do so. Nothing untoward had happened to her yet in the 'big, bad city', so she didn't really believe anything bad was going to. Thankfully, she'd been out cold during Angelo's heroic act of saving her purse. Even then, it probably wouldn't have skewed her opinion very much. "Kinda nice, actually. The people are kind. At least you are and I'm sure there are lots more kind people around too."

Her eyes followed his hand, watching him sketch, fascinated by the control he had over the line. How someone could turn a blank, boring white napkin into a drawing (even just the beginnings of it) had always amazed her. His wink caught her off guard and granted him another laugh and a brither smile. "Are you an artist?" She asked, gesturing toward his napkin.

The funny thing about the slow curve he drew was that Angelo wasn't looking down as he twisted it, looping it down and around to create a sharp oval. One of her eyes, a detail he needed to capture while the chance was there. He knew he couldn't do them justice, but maybe, just maybe he could pin down one or two fleeting details about them and let them flood a canvas later. "Sorta," he answered quietly, flecking lash lines along the top edge of the first eye, "Kinda... an expert at jobs you can't live on. But they make me happy, s'more important, I wager."

He paused for a quick drink, avoiding looking to his own sketch as he did so. The focus needed to be on the subject, not the results. And the sketch was better than just reaching out to feel the curve of her brow or cheekbone, like Lenore had let him do. "I paint a bit, draw a bit more. Sometimes the urge strikes an' I gotta indulge it," Angelo explained, smiling sheepishly as he started to detail her other eye carefully.

Shoshannah tried to keep from looking at the sketch. He was watching her so intently that she felt like she had to watch back just as intently. It wasn't hard, she just wanted to take in everything at once. She sipped at her coffee again, eyes brighter now than before, much brighter than someone who claimed she was tired. When she caught a glimpse of what he was drawing, she couldn't help but stare at it. He was drawing her? To anyone else, it might have been obvious, but Shoshannah was certainly surprised. Cheyenne wanted to take pictures of her, Angelo wanted to draw her, it seemed. This was beyond anything she'd expected on her first day out.

"But how can people not want to pay you for what you do? You speak so beautifully, draw like it's effortless, and you play the trumpet like it's attached to your arm. I'd pay you for any of those, definitely." She smiled again as she locked eyes with him once more. Shoshannah was flattered. She'd never been drawn before and Angelo looked like he was really enjoying himself with his sketching. Somehow, this just felt right.

A laugh spilled out on a rush of breath as Angelo nodded in understanding. He'd had the dilemma before, the same wonders and disbelief as Shoshannah, on his first freezing winter living on his own, trying to keep his heat turned on. "You're the exception," he explained, "Most folks don' wanna pay for dreams, 'specially not dreams caught on cocktail napkins. They want... music they can dance to, stories they can puzzle out themselves, paintings they don' gotta guess 'bout the meaning of."

His smile edged with a hint of melancholy for a fleeting moment, a feeling Angelo usually had at least once a day. This city crushed dreams and dreamers alike. "Sometimes I wonder if it's cuz they don't wanna talk 'bout any of it with each other. If, like... sharin' what you see, what somethin' makes you feel, seems like a weakness to them. We got a whole lot of people in this town, Shannah, but most of them's strangers to each other. To themselves." He couldn't help it, glancing down at his sketch for a moment and frowning faintly. It was... it was off somehow. Angelo trusted his eyes, but they could deceive. His hands, however, never had.

Steeling his confidence with a deep breath, Angelo looked back up and fixed a curious grin on Shoshannah. "Now, if this is as strange as I wager it must be f'you?" he began in early warning, setting his drink aside and reaching across the scant space between them, "Jus' pour your coffee on this man's lap. I'll catch the hint." And then he was touching her, settling the pad of his thumb between her eyebrows with a feather lightness, gauging the space and letting his fingertips drift outward to learn the invisible nuances of her face.

Shoshannah was just about to respond back with how the town itself was a wide open book just waiting to be written in, but there was something in Angelo's voice that made her stop. Silently, she hoped that maybe she and him wouldn't be strangers for much longer. She was quick to call someone her friend and in her mind, Angelo already had that position. She left their thoughts about the city untouched for now, since Angelo was already moving on to another subject.

A stranger subject. She'd expected some sort of question, but what she found was Angelo's hand on her face. The shock was present in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time her mother had touched her face, let alone someone she'd just met. But Angelo was a friend and he wouldn't harm her. Still, the act was so unfamiliar to Shannah that she simply had to laugh. She knew it might be messing him up with whatever he was doing, so she tried to stop laughing but it was just too hard. How did touching her face translate to lines on the napkin? Maybe he'd explain if she asked him later? Taking a deep breath, her eyes turned apologetic. "I'm sorry. I'll try to contain myself. No one's ever really touched my face before."

Managing to keep the surprised twitch of his hand under control, Angelo laughed with her easily as he lost any hint of the depression that had barely managed to touch him, shaking his head at the apology. "Do what you wanna do an' don't feel sorry for it," he insisted, smiling bright and unfettered. Angelo tried to linger only as much as he had to, knowing that the two of them were an odd sight in a bar full of varying degrees of the drunk, but he had to learn these details. "'Specially not for a laugh," Angelo went on, "Somethin' no one should ever be sparin' a sorry for."

And he was learning, capturing subtleties in his mind before they vanished. How her eyes changed when she laughed, the slight dimples in her cheeks, the little wrinkling of her nose... "No one?" he asked, moving a strand of hair across Shannah's eyes just for a quick glimpse of how it might change what he saw, smiling. "Whole damn world's missin' out, Shoshannah," came the sincere praise even as Angelo's smile dimmed a touch, his stare growing more focused and intent. "So... you don' have to answer me? Think you gave plenty of concessions already. I just... I never seen it before, an' I wonder. Before, when I came over, why were you cryin'?" It was too personal, too soon, but he'd seen the evidence of it. And this radiant young woman should have had no reason for those tears, not in the world Angelo wanted to believe in.

"Then I take my apology back," She said with a smile. Seeing Angelo smile filled Shoshannah with a sense of accomplishment. It was her favorite thing to see in others, a genuinely happy smile and even if it was a little selfish, it made Shoshannah even happier to know that she'd help him get that smile. As she sat there with him touching her face and her staring back at him, Shannah came to a few conclusions. Angelo's hands were soft, despite the few small bumps she felt on them here and there. Angelo seemed intent on studying her whole face, not just her eyes, including moving her hair this way and that. She felt like a little doll perched on the stool, but oddly enough it was a really nice feeling. He seemed so intent on being true to what he saw and felt, and it flattered her even more to know that Angelo was happy doing this.

His compliment resonated in her ears then filtered down to her heart where it warmed her and settled there. "Thank you," A slight blush popped up on her cheeks. The whole world was missing out? "That's really kind of you to say." Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't. All she knew was that it made her happy. Her eyes watched his as they changed and she followed his emotion easily, watching him with curiosity. Shoshannah's eyes softened and for once the far-off look still had focus. Her lips pulled into a sweet, sad, smile as she contemplated the best way to explain. "The girl you were talking about. I'm her. It was like you were talking to me, about me, and no one else was around. I cried because everything you said, I knew about. Like you took the thoughts right out of me." Her eyes shifted from his, watching his cheek for a moment. "...and I was sad because no one believed her." Obviously Shannah hadn't heard the ending of his story or she'd have a much more holistic sense of the story-girl's plight.

Under observation, his cheek dimpled with the quirking at one corner of Angelo's mouth; a small, hopeful little smile for Shoshannah alone. "Gonna have to guess that you missed the last words," he murmured, smoothing the hair back from her eyes, "They believed her." He was touched, moved like Shoshannah made it sound like he'd moved her. To connect like that? It was a validation of every night he'd spent here; even if people enjoyed the stories sometimes, he'd never thought to touch so close to the core of another person.

"She woke up alone," Angelo explained with a nod of reassurance, "An' she saw it, Shannah... every color no one said was real. Felt the ground beneath her feet, heard the promise on the wind that there was more than what she'd known. An' she knew that she had to be alone jus' for that first moment, drink in the air, feel the ground under her, look up at a sky that wasn't an echo. Then? She could go to find the people who'd believe her now, cuz they'd see it too." He was breaking one of his own rules, that he would never repeat a story, but for her? Knowing how personal the rambling story had ended up? Angelo was obligated. More than that, he wanted to shed the rule, even if it was only once.

And Shoshannah felt it. She felt the sting of waking up alone, a sensation she knew all too well. But then she felt the ground and the wind. She saw the colors he mentioned and before she knew it, her eyes were brimmed with tears again. And when the story girl went looking for those other believers, she saw a trio of people. Ian first, Cheyenne second, and lastly, Angelo, who seemed to be a bit stronger, a bit brighter than the other two. "I'm glad, really glad. All she wanted was for someone to believe her."

Slightly embarrassed as the first tear rolled down her cheek, Shoshannah hesitantly looked up at Angelo again. "...Can I tell you something? You can say no if you don't want to hear it and I won't ask again, I promise."

Unbidden, he remembered a talk he'd had with Lenore. Stories, and at the time, Angelo had called them 'just' stories. But were they so simple? Wasn't the evidence against that idea sitting across from him? Belief was such a strong force, a potent thing that had kept him alive and hopeful, that could move Shoshannah to tears. "'Course you can," Angelo said promisingly, brushing away the tear that slipped free, "Some folks say I trust too easy? But it hasn't burned me yet, an' I trust you. So... say what you wanna say, don't apologize for it. No judgment here, that much you can count on." Eavesdroppers might be a different story, but Angelo was hyper-focused on Shoshannah now. The world had a sharp edge where it ended, and even that was paid no mind.

She took a deep breath, using it to try and calm her nerves. A soft smile was given to Angelo when he brushed her tear away and she sniffled a little. Angelo trusted her and she definitely trusted him now, so there was no reason not to say this. He said she should say things she wanted to and not apologize for them and he seemed so open-minded that her best bet of not getting called a freak might be in Angelo's very hands. At least, that was what she thought.

"I...wasn't tired. I meant I was but...you see, the thing is...I sleep a lot. And I don't just mean a lot like when you oversleep an hour in the morning. I mean a lot. It was a lot worse when I was younger. I would sleep for just days on end. Sleep right through the day, like the girl in your story. And half the time I can't pay attention to what people say to me because I just can't focus on them. I don't know why and it's not like I want to be rude and ignore them but...Well, it goes like this. They'd be here, talking to me normally one minute, and the next minute it's like they were never there. I just don't see them or don't hear them. I don't know why it happens but I think I connect with the girl in your story because of that too. Because she sleeps so much, but see...she does it because her dreams are better than the real life she sees. I do it because I don't have a choice."

Her eyes were hopeful, searching Angelo's for any sense of an ill emotion. Was he angry, was he annoyed, was he disgusted? She was lucky not to have lost her focus during his conversation with her, but it could happen at any time, anywhere. Shoshannah was holding out hope that Angelo might be the rare exception to the rule of people who thought her rude and lazy or worse.

They'd both had drinks at some point, but Angelo had forgotten about his now, abandoning it with the rest of the details about the world outside of this talk. The warmth flared in his eyes again, disappearing as he blinked slowly, breathing deep and smiling. Kinship, was there anything else that felt so wonderful? It was a high wholly seperate from his pipe, a natural rush, a solidity that went beyond the mundane. He could understand the way she spoke of losing her focus, of time slipping through her fingers. One puff, and he could paint for hours. Two puffs of blue smoke? He just might write some new music. But more than that, and Angelo's day would be lost in a haze as he laid on his sofa and watched the ceiling, letting himself dream while awake.

"Not gonna say I understand, cuz I don't," he eventually said, "I can't, an' I ain't gonna lie 'bout something that takes up so much space inside you. But from here? From this seat, an' the best chunk of time I've had in a while now? You do pretty well for someone without that choice, Shannah." And he meant every word there; he couldn't understand because he chose his loss of time, hers was beyond her control. "Whatever time you lose, seems to me like you make the rest of it count for double, right? Like... like you know how precious it is, bein' here in the moment. S'remarkable to see, you know, it's one hell of a view." Reaching to the bar, Angelo plucked up the rough sketch he'd done of her eyes, a simple bit of pencil work that was still significant to him.

"Makes me wish the rest a'these folks lived half as much as you do when you can," Angelo explained, holding up the sketch for her to see, "Not a one of them knows how lucky they is, neither. It's like... if you're the girl in the story? They're the ones who's cool with grey days, tellin' themselves that bein' awake for no reason's better than sleepin' until there's something worth livin' for." He shook his head as if to dissipate any doubts or fears she might have before they could even form, leaning on the bar. "The fact that you got this much heart inside of you? An' it is a fact," he insisted, winking again, "Says to me that you's makin every minute you got count. Never a bit of shame to be found in that."

Nothing anyone had ever said before this had made as much sense to Shoshannah. She'd always known this was something she couldn't control but her mother and even her sisters had found a way to make sure she knew they didn't believe her. And so Shoshannah slept and dreamed and thought of better people in different places for most of her childhood, but now that she was up, older, and ready to experience the world as it was, Angelo's words couldn't have been more true. She did try to make the best out of the cards she was dealt. She was doing her best to learn and experience things now, even if her condition had prevented her from doing so before.

Not only that, but here he was with the most beautiful sketch of her eyes. He was kind, warm-hearted, and talented. If he could draw that on a napkin, what could he do on an easel? Angelo was a true artist in Shoshannah's eyes. He had the most captivating way with words, an ease with his hands that turned trumpets and napkins into symphonies and masterpieces. A strong sense of intrigue welled inside her. Angelo was wise beyond his years (she chose to believe that he was just a wise soul, not that he had experienced the worst that this city had to offer and learned from it) and Shoshannah knew she could learn quite a bit about life in general from Angelo. It surprised her how connected she felt to him. Angelo knew. Period. That was all that mattered. Angelo knew and understood her. Maybe she'd found a kindred spirit in the artist after all.

Her next action she had no control over either. She leaned forward, cup of semi-cold Irish coffee forgotten on the bar, and wrapped her arms around his middle. She was so much shorter than him, so her head pressed against his chest as well. She knew the words she had were not as moving as Angelo's, but she felt like she needed to say something. "Thank you," however lame, it was all she could think of.

The impact was a surprise, no two ways about it, but Shoshannah was light, even compared to Angelo's wire frame. Rocking back in his seat as she grabbed him, Angelo gave a short laugh for a moment, quelling it as her arms slid around him. His chair settled and she was there, warm against his chest, trembling slightly in what might've been relief. His blinders were up for the briefest of moments as Angelo wondered over this moment he found himself sharing, and it was then that he realized most of the other patrons were gone, it had to be near closing time.

That fact didn't affect Angelo's intention as he felt her speak into his shirt, and he smoothed an arm around her back in kind, reaching his other hand to smooth the back of Shoshannah's hair consolingly. "None needed," Angelo murmured down at Shoshannah, ribs expanding against her as he breathed deep, "I will accept some if you let a certain fella see you to a cab."

She didn't talk for a while. Instead she focused on the sense of security she found by knowing that Angelo didn't think anything ill of her. A few deep breaths later, Shoshannah was mostly calm again and managed to pull back gently from their embrace. The smile on her face was calm, almost relieved. "If you wouldn't mind, that'd be great." She pulled her jacket, purse, and camera into her hands, hesitating for a moment. "...Would you mind if I took a quick picture of you?" She didn't want to encroach on Cheyenne's idea, but she simply couldn't pass up the chance this time. "And maybe soon I can come see some of your paintings?"

Angelo gave a look of disappointment as he stepped back, turning to the stage to retrieve his cased trumpet from behind his seat. The disappointment wasn't anything tangible, just a brief regret over the space being there at all. 'Everything' had consisted of maybe three square feet when he'd been talking with her, and sometimes a return to the rest of the world was unwelcome. Angelo lived for those narrow, centered experiences, the connections made one to one. "With how much you put up with my rambles?" he asked as he slid on his coat and hefted the case, "Don' think I could say no if I wanted to. To either question."

A picture was a simple thing, and one he welcomed. Being remembered for any part of this? It was more than he asked. "My, uh, my place is pretty bare," he added with a self-conscious shrug, "But you're welcome to come by any time." Nothing about Shoshannah screamed 'money', but she didn't look like she was on hard times either. He lingered where he was, curious and anxious over being on the other side of the focus of art. "So, am I posin'?" Angelo asked, chuckling in amusement.

"You don't ramble!" Shoshannah almost rolled her eyes at him. "I really enjoyed listening to you tonight." As he moved, she was hit with a sense of disappointment as well. For a short time, she thought that maybe this little interaction wasn't going to end and she didn't mind that idea. But at the end of this one, if she was leaving with a friend and another offer to get to know him better, what more could she ask for? "I'd be honored! I'm sure your place is a lot better than you say it is."

With the camera covering her face, Shoshannah adjusted the focus but lowered it enough so that she could peer over the top and catch his eyes again. Her own seemed playful now, excited. "Don't worry about what you're doing. Just do what you want and don't apologize for it," She said, repeating his words. She'd always heard that the sincerest form of flattery was imitation.

Shoshannah earned a rich laugh from him with the mimicry, and Angelo had to look down in uncontrollable mirth as he shook his head. "Pretty sound advice," he said delightedly, standing with a slight slouch and grinning Shoshannah's way as she focused the camera. "Oughta make a point to keep in touch with whoever said that." Angelo lingered where he stood just in front of the stage, watching patiently. He'd never had enough money all at once to afford his own camera, but the prospect of another medium to express himself, or to see how Shannah herself did? It was fascinating, the closest he could get to really seeing her perspective.

"I'm sure I'll be keeping in touch with who said it. Those are wise words and they came from a pretty wise person." Shoshannah's voice was muffled slightly as she peered back into the camera. She turned, knelt a bit, angled the camera up and found the right perspective for the shot. She took three quick flicks in succession, then stood straight again and let the camera hang around her neck. If Shoshannah had to pick one thing that was her most important treasure, it ould be her camera...but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to share it. Angelo stood a very good chance at getting his hands on the camera if he only asked.

"Thank you for that." Casting a glance back at the bar, she grabbed a napkin and tore it in half. Using the same pencil stub he'd used earlier. She wrote down the phone number at her house and the address (knowing her mother would scream about that too later), before she moved to his side and handed both sheets out. Her smile was expectant but still bright.

Taking both bits of napkin, Angelo hefted his trumpet case back onto a table, quickly popping it to tuck the half with Shoshannah's information away safely. He jotted his own address down in kind, slipping it into Shannah's hand as smoothly as he made exchanges with his dealer, then finally nodding towards the door. "You too," Angelo said in a low voice, lingering close enough for the words to carry between them. "An' we might have a bit of a walk, cabs don't always love this block at this time a'night."

She held tightly onto the napkin he gave her, hoping her smile left him with the same warm, fuzzy feeling that his words gave her. When they started walking, she adjusted her purse on her shoulder and slipped the napkin inside it for safe keeping. "I don't mind walking. You'll be ok getting home by yourself?" Yes, the question was absurd. It wasn't like Shoshannah had much history in defending herself or other people, but she knew nothing of this part of town. She wasn't sure that anything bad would have happened to her if she had to walk all the way home from here alone (she was that naive) but she could still worry about Angelo.

"Yeah, I do this plenty," Angelo assured her, nodding steadily as he started out of the bar with Shannah, "Got me a route, few of the local street boys who tell me if there's trouble." It was a sympathetic relationship, to be sure: Angelo paid attention to the homeless in his neighborhood, gave when he was able. In return? Dodge and his kids and a few other alley-dwellers kept Angelo in the loop if a new mugger was prowling. He repressed the urge to sling an arm across Shoshannah's shoulders as they moved for the door, figuring that as great as this had been? There was a good chance that it was too familiar.

Instead, Angelo backed into the door, holding it open with a shoulder and a lean as he drank deep from the city air outside, basking in the return to the street. "An' if you feel like comin' by ever? Call if it's late, things can be a lil' touchy 'round here after dark." Which was a painful idea; the knowledge of what might happen to a woman as trusting as Shoshannah in this city.

Shoshannah unconsciously walked closer to Angelo. It was cold outside, maybe that was an excuse, maybe it wasn't, and he seemed to think the neighborhood was rough. Oddly enough, Shoshannah wouldn't have asked him to remove his arm if he had done so. Even though she'd just met him hours before (and as lame as it might have sounded) Shoshannah felt like she'd known him for much longer.

"I'll call when I come down here at night," She promised with a nod. She wasn't sure why it would matter if she simply minded her own business, but if Angelo seemed to think it was important, a call before she came out wouldn't hurt anything. She took a deep breath of the crisp air, glad that the burst of it jolted away some of her sleepiness.

His gaze was roving slightly now, drifting along the street ahead of them, over the dark windows of shops and apartments, and always back to Shoshannah. Angelo wasn't sure if he could say it without it sounding bad, but he had the feeling that she didn't see the dangers out here. That chance raised protective urges in him, feelings he knew he'd be hard-pressed to fulfill. Violence just... it wasn't an option, so he'd help Shannah avoid as much as possible.

"Looks so calm," he mused softly as they walked, "Like... even if the city never sleeps? It's eyes is half closed. Just gotta know where to look." This corner, for instance? A left turn and a few blocks would take them to the derelict row of buildings where Angelo had grown up, to where his parents' shop had been. A right, of course, would lead to signs of life; foot traffic, taxis, working pay phones and more. Like flippin' a coin. And of course, he led her right, in no rush to expose the old scars of the city.

"I know that feeling very well," She admitted with a soft laugh. If the city itself was half-lidded, it and Shoshannah would get along well. She took a right when he did, hearing the faintest sounds of the city waking up further down the street. "Is this going too far from your place? We can see if the taxi driver will drive you home then me? My treat." She promised. He had bought her a coffee earlier.

It was a little out of his way, but not in such great distance that Angelo would have an extra long trek ahead of him. Still, the offer was tempting. With the condition Shoshannah had confided in him about? What happened if she dozed off in the taxi? There were so many of them in the city, could all of the drivers be safe? "Flip that order an' it's a deal," he requested, grinning and nodding, "Should be 'bout as far from your street as here. I like my walk, too. Gives me time to listen to what these streets got to say." And really? Spending a little more time like this wasn't something Angelo could complain over.

"You're sneaky." She glanced up at him with eyes squinted slightly, doing her best to look intimidating but not exactly gathering the right forcefulness. "But I'm still paying," She insisted. "I like walking too, especially in the winter. I feel a lot more focused in the winter." The summer heat could make even the most bright-eyed, bushy-tailed of people go into a near coma from exhaustion so, needless to say, Shoshannah disliked summer very much. "I think it's fascinating the streets speak to you. Maybe I'll be lucky and they'll speak to me sometime, if I walk them more often."

"They always speakin', you jus' gotta learn to listen," Angelo shared, watching the play of expressions on Shoshannah's face as she slid from a faux-intimidation to thoughtfulness. "Watch the people, what they do, whether they smilin' when you pass or frownin' like it's raining only on them." He made it sound easy, which is wasn't for Angelo a lot of the time. Details of the world around him slipped by easily, he rarely had the big picture in sight, but when he sought inspiration? The city never disappointed. "I think you'd see somethin' I don't," he mused, "Draw a smile or two out of hidin' from the folks 'round here." Maybe, with her camera? She could even show him when she decided to capture what she saw. Waking dreams... I wanna see that, Angelo thought as he walked close with Shannah, spotting the distant yellow dome light of a taxi.

"I'd see something you wouldn't? I'm asleep half the time!" She joked, a sense of lightness flooding over her. Finally, someone who would listen to her talk about her condition without fear, without uncertainty. Someone she could joke at it with. It was such a welcome feeling. She highly doubted that she'd be able to explain her condition to anyone else anytime soon. It just made sense to tell Angelo and she was glad she had.

"What I see..To me, everything is new. I don't know what this street connects to or where it would lead me, but I so want to find out someday. So maybe, if I take as many pictures of as many places and things and people as I can, it'll all fit together nicely in one cohesive book sooner or later. Until then, all I can do is point and click." She yawned into the back of her hand, hoping he didn't see it. Good thing Angelo was looking for the cab seeing as Shoshannah certainly wasn't. She was too busy trying to keep herself awake.

The idea there was a pleasing one, and he wondered if Shannah would need a whole book, or if she might find those defining moments she seemed to crave sooner. A single opportunity for a picture could be all she needed. Whether it was or not? Angelo wanted her to find those moments. He recognized the burgeoning love and fascination with the city around them, felt it himself even. "Awake or asleep, I'm me, you're you," Angelo observed, missing the yawn entirely, "So... everything is new for you. An' I think if you can capture that, I'd savor a chance to see it myself. Hasn't felt that way to me since I was small." His free hand came up to linger in the air, tossing around in a half-hearted wave as the taxi rolled closer to them.

"I'll bring some of my pictures to show you when I see your paintings?" She offered. "And you'll be the first to see what I can find in the city." It'd be nice to have a true artistic opinion on her photographs. As the cab came to a halt near them, Shoshannah headed toward it with the last little burst of energy she had in her. She knew she'd fall prey to her condition at some point in this cab ride, she could only hope that she could last for most of it.

"Make sure you do," Angelo encouraged, walking towards the cab with her as his hand raised, waving with urgency and coaxing the cab to a stop at the side of the curb. He wondered over what she might've already captured in her travels, musing to himself that even that phrasing wasn't right. Shoshannah didn't seem the type to 'capture' anything; it was more fitting that she would retain a glimpse of whatever had evoked some feeling, some sense of awe or vitality from her. "I'm feelin' a lil' spoiled by that offer, too," he said as he moved to the cab's door, popping it open and ignoring the stunned look that the driver gave the pair of them. It wasn't uncommon; seeing shock as the reaction to a black man escorting a woman like her, but it was somethingAngelo grew tired of. "Course I won't refute or nothin', but I think you could prompt a lil' awe with your work," he said as he climbed in with her, shutting the door.

Oblivious to the taxi driver's stunned face, Shoshannah slid into the taxi and settled herself in her seat. She gave the driver a kind, polite smile and asked him to drive her to her address before leaning back against the seat. Angelo's skin color certainly hadn't bothered Shoshannah at all. She might be one of the few people of her social status that didn't judge based on skin. She had enough people judging her, why should she judge others? "Well, I can't very well ask you to show me your paintings without offering something else to show you! I doubt they're awe-inspiring or anything, but I like my pictures so I can only hope others will too."

With no concept of how long it would take to get from here to her house, Shoshannah was having a harder time fighting off the sleep that pulled at her. She yawned again into the back of her hand, searching her mind for something to ask Angelo, but all that was in her mind now was a bunch of jumbled thoughts. "Do you know what time it is?" Not that it mattered. Her condition was impervious to time.

"You actually could jus' come on by," he refuted teasingly, cheeks bunching as Angelo gave a fleeting laugh over Shannah's insistence. He certainly wouldn't tell her no, after all, he was eager to see how she would focus in. Settling back in his seat, Angelo dug a hand down deep into the pocket of the old rumpled coat he wore, closing it and bringing out a battered pocket watch that had an audible ticking sound with each movement of the second hand. Squinting at the scratched glass on the face, he smiled slightly. "S'late," Angelo murmured, glancing over to Shoshannah to see the exhaustion in her plainly, "Past two, gettin' so late that soon it'll be early." He smiled gently, a more contained expression than his usual that was no less sincere, and twisted around to rest an arm along the back of the seat. "Go on an' shut them eyes for a few if you need," he assured Shoshannah, "Promise I'll behave myself back here, watchin' you dream."

The reason she didn't want to close her eyes wasn't that she didn't trust him, but because she knew if she did, their conversation would stop. Besides, who knew if she'd wake up once she closed her eyes? It was like she was asking for the sleep to take over if she did that. Instead, she stood her head, stubborn, but continued to smile. "I know you wouldn't hurt me, but if I close my eyes, I'll be gone." She explained. "And then you'd have to ride all the way to my house with me and not have any conversation. What kind of good cab-buddy does that to someone?"

Past two? Hopefully her parents were asleep or Shoshannah was in for an earful. An earful of things she didn't want to hear. "I'll be all right," She promised, but her eyes were already drooping. She caught a glimpse of his watch and clung to the image as fodder for conversation. "That's a beautiful watch." Almost unconsciously, she felt herself drifting a little closer to Angelo in the seat.

Angelo was easy and unconcerned as he slipped the watch low in his hand, reaching out for Shoshannah's and depositing it in her palm. It had been a nice watch once, sure, but that had been in Angelo's childhood when he'd been given the watch. "My ol' man gave it to me a long time back," he explained, "An' it still runs on a dime." He shifted a bit in response to Shoshannah's unaware movement, sliding just a bit and leaning so that he could look over the watch as she held it.

"Those are the best stories." She held the watch gently, careful not to harm it in any way as she tilted it this way and that in her gloved hands. "Items that have a history can talk just as much as the streets can." Shoshannah was much more comfortable with items than streets. She often found items in her house knew that they could be traced all the way back to her great-great-great-grandfather. As she stared at the watch, she knew that the last soldiers in her battle against her condition were dropping like flies. She kept holding on, hoping the last line of defense would save her, but she knew it was a losing battle no matter what.

Before she knew it, her head was against Angelo's chest again, her hand slackened and she lost the grip she had on his pocketwatch, but it just sat safely in her palm. Her eyes were almost closed, just slightly open, and she attempted to get another thank you to him for how nice he had been that night, but all that came out was a little exhalation on breath before her eyes completely shut and she was drifting again.

Riding in silence as she settled against him, Angelo eased his arm around Shannah's shoulders consolingly, letting her get in close to him as she slept. He sighed quietly, catching the driver's eyes looking back in the rearview mirror for a moment and ignoring the questions there. "Wonder what you seein', doll," he murmured down at Shoshannah as she dozed, taking in the smoothed over expression she wore and the minute line at one side of her mouth.

The city lights slid by as they rode in the back of the taxi, though Angelo only caught glimpses of them. His world had shrank again, ending at the doors of the taxi as he watched her sleep aside from the odd blur of a passing streetlight. It was peaceful, prosaic, the sort of moment Angelo could bask in for hours. Except he didn't have hours. He only had a handful of minutes, it turned out, before the cab rolled to a halt against the curb of a much finer neighborhood than Angelo ever visited on his own. "Three fty," the driver grumbled back to them as Angelo nodded, digging in his pocket for rumpled dollar bills and handing them up. "Keep them two bits," he replied, popping the door slightly and leaning in close to speak in Shannah's ear. "Come on back to me now," Angelo murmured, "Gon' look bad if I carry you in..."

Shoshannah could have stayed there for hours, like he wanted to, but when the taxi driver's lead foot stomped on the brakes it separated her from Angelo enough for her to know something was happening, and she was fighting her way back to the outside world by the time her head hit his chest again. She was conscious enough to hear him whispering, but the words themselves weren't clear until the end. "No need to carry me. I'm up, promise." Still a little groggy-headed, Shoshannah reached for her purse. "How much was it?" She glanced at Angelo, hearing the cab driver telling her the same amount he told Angelo, hoping to get paid twice, but Shoshannah only paid attention to Angelo's brown eyes. "I promised to pay, so if you already did, just let me know how much..."

"Couple a'bones, nothin' to fret over," Angelo assured her, gently easing Shoshannah the rest of the way back to a seated position before he disengaged from her with a look of regret, slipping out of the taxi. For the second time tonight, he basked in the city's smells for a moment, this time noting how clean and maintained the homes here were. The paint wasn't peeling anywhere, there were no bars on the elegantly framed windows, no hobos lurking in the gaps between buildings. It may as well have been another world.

Too tired to fight him on this, Shoshannah rolled her eyes slightly as she gathered her things. "Then I get to buy you lunch sometime. No backing out on this one." She should have asked if he was going to ride the cab home, if she could cover his fare for that, but she was focused now on putting one foot on the ground out of the cab then making the other follow. She stood as straight as possible once outside, letting the brisk air lure her back to the waking world, if only slightly. She held her hand out to him. "We need to shake on it, make it official. A lunch soon, then I'll show you my pictures and you show me your paintings."

He was still ready to move in, to support her if whatever the mysterious malady was returned unexpectedly, and her offer to shake made it easy to indulge that. "No man with half a brain'd pass on that," Angelo assured her, folding his hand around Shannah's and smiling warmly, "So you got yourself a lunch date, Ms. Hagel. Pick a day an it's yours or jus'... call. Track a fella down. Guarantee it'll be the best surprise I get that day." He had a wildly inappropriate urge for a moment there, an expression he wanted to see on Shannah's face, but the lethargy she was battling would just make it wrong of him to do. "Now go on," he urged with a look of regret, "Get up them steps, chase some dreams... bask in 'em for a bit."

He looked sad to Shoshannah and it didn't help her be any happier that their night was coming to a close. Tomorrow might be too soon, maybe he was working...but she couldn't pass up the chance to see him again. "I'll call you tomorrow. We'll figure out something," She assured. Whether it was her coming down there that very day or them making plans for later, Shoshannah wouldn't know but she knew the day would pass too slowly until she could find the answer.

Sadly, she let go of his hand and took a few steps back until she was on the sidewalk. She kept hold of his eyes for as long as she could, then broke out in as bright a smile as her condition would let her give then. "So I'll hear from you soon!" And just like that, she turned and headed toward her house, wavering on the steps a bit until she opened the door, was engulfed in a warm, yellow light from inside, stepped into the house, and closed the door. But at least she turned to smile at him again instead of giving him her back to look at as she shut the door.