Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Dec 21, 2014 14:44:54 GMT -8
Hello friends, and welcome to my Sporking chamber! I've been wanting to do something like this for a long time, and finally got up the nerve to post my commentary on some of the fics I've read. My only rule is that no one go to these authors and attack their stories; we're all mature adults here and this is just for fun.
Alright, let's rock.
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Nov 22, 2014 16:12:30 GMT -8
Hey guys, I'm calling another last-minute hiatus.
Things at home are kind of stressful right now, with the bills piling up and us not having enough money to pay for them... among other things. And finals are coming up, so I want to focus on passing this class before doing anything else. I'll still be in the c-box and skype if you want to chat or plot or whatever. We just need to get the waters calm again over here.
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Oct 22, 2014 23:00:53 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Oct 13, 2014 12:58:47 GMT -8
In typical relationships, it was the guy who picked the girl up for their date, a bouquet of roses in one hand, and an extended arm, waiting for the lady to latch onto it. But since when had Niklaas adhered to that kind of bullshit? His last relationship had literally been “you’re sexy. Let’s fuck”. Suffice to say, he had thrown the typical courting rituals out the window. Nesia hadn’t agreed to go out with one of those charming sweep-you-off-your-feet guys; she had agreed to go out with him. Sharp-tongued, sarcastic him. Moreover, he did not possess the honeyed tongue of a romantic male lead; any attempts to sweet talk would just come out sounding ridiculous.
He checked his watch and blew a puff of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. Nesia was running late, but they still had plenty of daylight. He hadn’t planned anything extravagant for them anyway; just going out to lunch and talking. Who took their girlfriend to fancy, expensive restaurants on the first date? Men who tried way too hard to impress, most likely. He would just let this develop naturally, and if it worked, it worked. If not? Hell, Niklaas wasn’t going to cry about it.
He dropped the cigarette and stamped it out under his shoe. Maybe he had overdressed a little. The beige trench coat might have been a little too expensive for a normal lunch, but dammit it was his favorite coat, and least he stood out from the crowd. Niklaas pulled out a cigarette, and paused before lighting it. Nesia didn’t like his smoking. She only barely tolerated it in the Vortex because he was there. He stuffed the cigarette away, popped a piece of orange candy in his mouth, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Some snow fell past his face, but he barely blinked at it. A few more minutes passed –five or ten-, and Nesia’s voice called out to him.
“…Sorry I'm late... phone is dead and…I forget... where you are..." She explained in between breaths.
“You’re fine. Things happen," Niklaas shrugged, a faint smile on his face. Adorable as ever, this young lady, even if she did seem to overthink this little outing of theirs. It was actually kind of charming. “I was thinking we’d go out to lunch, and talk. Sound good?”
ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN |
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Sept 7, 2014 8:29:02 GMT -8
Heeeey, just renewing my hiatus =w=;
For what it's worth, Nik's slowly crawling out of his hole.
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Sept 1, 2014 16:00:51 GMT -8
HEY GUYS. YOU REMEMBER THAT THING I MENTIONED WRITING?? 8B
The skies of London were almost unnaturally clear today- not a single cloud in the sky. Considering that the previous night there had been rains storms on and off, this just seemed like even more of an anomaly. However, nature seemed to compensate by making the day unbearably humid. The air was heavy with moisture, and Ciel could practically feel the water on the pavement evaporating. Now was not the time to contemplate the weather; she had much more important things to worry about. She adjusted her glasses and set her lips into a firm line, the poker face that she had perfected so many years ago, and focused on her destination. The third floor of the Milford Flats building, down the immediate right hall after coming out of the lift, fifth door on the right. She could have walked there with a blindfold if she was forced to, she had walked the path so many times. They used to be innocent visits- a few drinks from a bottle of wine he had procured from his work, a few hands of cards, and she would perhaps stay the night. In hindsight, her visits weren't always, since a fraction of the time they ended with clothes strewn on the floor and a warm body next to hers. Ciel cursed her ignorance. She had been drawn in by the Dutchman's charms, just like every other woman who came in contact with him. Blinded by his musical proficiency, good looks and unusual charisma, despite his general pessimism. No more. It was time to remove the veil from her eyes and finally obtain peace.
Despite her resolve, Ciel hesitated at the door. She looked down at her purse over the rims of her glasses, her facade cracking ever-so-slightly. A bottle of poison was nestled within the faux leather confines, hidden inconspicuously in a nail polish bottle that had been emptied out and thoroughly cleaned for this purpose. He would be cold in his bed by the morning, just like her parents were- a quiet poetic death. Niklaas would probably appreciate it, he did love poetry. She steeled herself and knocked delicately at the door.
“Nijntje, come here.” Niklaas' deep voice sounded from the other side. A few seconds later the door opened, and there he stood, clutching his ever-curious rabbit to his chest with one hand. “Hello, Ciel.” He greeted pleasantly enough, standing aside to let her enter. “I thought you had plans with Charlotte today.”
“Sudden change,” Ciel replied automatically as she stepped inside. “That woman cannot sit still when her mind is set on something. Her most recent plot involves trying to get Marianne away from her work.” She wasn't trying to hide the distaste in her voice when it came to the youngest of the three siblings.
“A nearly impossible task,” Niklaas said, closing the door and shifting his grip around Nijntje, who was trying to wiggle free and greet Ciel properly. “But Charlotte isn't going to give up until she gets what she wants.” A statement that was as obvious as saying the sky was blue. Ciel could actually count the number of times her partner had come up with a way to pull off an “impossible” job, and it usually involved her staying up all night formulating a plan. The woman was brilliant, if not a little over zealous, but you had to be so in their line of work. “I'll put Nijntje back in her cage, help yourself to-”
“She's fine, Niklaas.” Ciel cut in, a faint smile on her lips. “Don't confine her on my account.” If there was one thing Ciel held over Niklaas, it was his weakness to a pretty smile. By his own drunken confession, her smirk was the sexiest goddamn thing he had ever seen in his life. It was empowering in its own right, to be able to charm the infamous charmer.
As soon as Nijntje was set down, she instantly hopped over to Ciel, putting her front paws against her legs, her way of asking to be pet or held. “Do you want anything? Tea, water?” He cocked his head towards the coffee pot on the counter, “coffee?”
“I just wanted to talk. It's very important.” Ciel replied sharply, looking at the Dutchman with equally sharp eyes. He seemed to be taken aback at the sudden glare, and blinked in confusion.
“Oh. Alright then.” Nijntje hopped after Ciel was she walked to the couch, clearly disappointed that she didn't get her pets from her favorite guest. When Niklaas sat down beside Ciel, the rabbit pawed at the couch, and he lifted her up and put him in his lap. She almost instantly hopped into Ciel's and made herself comfortable. “So, what is it you wanted to talk about?” Ciel bit down the fury growing inside her by gently stroking the creature in her lap.
“Lars van der Burg,” she began. Niklaas shifted slightly. “There was a gardener who worked on my family's estate who went by that name. Born in Amsterdam, recently graduated from university with a degree in Business Economics. Does this sound familiar?”
“Not particularly.” Niklaas lied. He had always been a terrible liar. How he had managed to lie all this time -to her face- was an unsolvable enigma. “Where are-”
“No? Let me go into more detail. He was the eldest of three, his youngest sibling was studying abroad in Germany. He left the estate a few months after Mother and Father died. I didn't know why, nor did I necessarily care, until I started having suspicions that he was an instrument of their murder.” Niklaas glanced away. Nijntje hopped out of Ciel's lap to snuggle up to his side, sensing her owner's discomfort. “I had sources that tracked him to London. They were hardly reliable, but it was all I had. After years of searching, I finally found him.” Niklaas took out a cigarette and lit it. His hands were trembling slightly. “He pretended to be my friend, and perhaps something more. Lied to my face on numerous occasions.” Ciel folded her hands gracefully in her lap. “Does this all sound familiar to you now?”
Niklaas took a drag and let it out in a long, heavy sigh, leaning his head back and watching the smoke drift lazily above him. For once, he seemed to be at a loss for words. Him. Niklaas always seemed to be ready with some sort of sarcastic comment, and sharp words on the edge of his tongue. Where were they? This was so unlike Niklaas, and a tiny little part of Ciel's mind wanting him to retort. To say something, anything, to make her suspicions dissipate even slightly. To convince her that he didn't do it, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, yet there was nothing. Say something. Ciel thought, say something you son of a bitch.
Niklaas slouched forward, elbows resting on his knees and his forehead on the back of his hands. “...I knew you'd find out. Sooner or later.” That small part of Ciel cried out in despair, but she ignored it. “So,” he turned his head to look at her. He looked completely and utterly defeated. “What happens now?”
“Now?” Ciel stood up abruptly, marching in front of Niklaas and glaring down at him. He didn't lift his head, which only made her angrier. “First, you are going to look me in the eye,” she began icily. He obeyed without a word, looking several years older. “Next you are going to tell me why,” she practically hissed. “Why them?! What did they ever do to deserve that?! For god's sake, Niklaas, you knew them!” her facade was breaking, she was looking control. She took a mental step back in order to compose herself, taking a deep breath through her nose, and letting it out in a controlled sigh. “Did you get close to me just so you could kill me, too?”
“No!” Niklaas finally looked up. He licked his lips and took another drag of his cigarette. Nijtnje pawed desperately at his leg, and he rubbed the base of her ears nervously. “God almighty, no. What would I gain from that? I-I mean...” He paused to take another drag. “...I'm not that man anymore. I got tired of it.”
Ciel sneered and crossed her arms over her chest. “Conscious finally catch up with you? Finally realize that you were a glorified murderer? Well isn't that nice for you. However, that isn't going to bring my mother and father back, or the life you destroyed. Your regret won't bring back the lives you took, will it?”
“I know, okay?! I fucking know!” Niklaas, exclaimed, standing up suddenly. He took a few deep breaths and took a step in several directions, like he wanted to start pacing, but didn't quite know where to go. He licked his lips and ran both hands through his hair. “It wasn't supposed to go that far. God I just- It was only supposed to be- ...I need a fucking drink.” He walked over to his kitchen with slouched shoulders, rummaging through his alcohol cabinet and pulling out a bottle of orange vodka.
Ciel had found his obsession with all things orange flavored oddly adorable, once.
He came back and slammed a large bottle of vodka on the coffee table, set down two glasses, filled one of them, and knocked it back in a single gulp. He sunk back onto the couch miserably, pouring himself another glass and looking down at the alcohol like he was trying to find an answer. Nijntje hopped into Niklaas' lap, and he offered a weak smile at her attempt to comfort him. “I just wanted to make enough money to get my old life back. I wanted things to be normal again. I wanted my family back.” He sounded so hopelessly broken, that any retort Ciel might have had for his justification died on her tongue. He downed another shot of vodka and stood up again, gently cradling Nijntje in his arms. “I'm going to put her back.” He muttered, turning and walking towards his room. Once Ciel heard the click of a door closing, she took a deep breath through her nose, and let it out through her mouth. She poured herself some vodka and took a sip, less for the actual taste, and more for the liquid courage. She took out her poisonous little bottle and unscrewed the cap, looking at Niklaas' half-full glass. All she had to do was pour a little in his drink, then revenge would be hers. She could finally have some peace of mind, for the first time in years. So why was she hesitating then?
She thought about Charlotte, how much happier she seemed now that Niklaas was back in her life, hoe they joked and prodded each other like they had never been apart. He even came along with them during some of their jobs. Ciel thought about how she and Niklaas laughed and drank and masqueraded as a newly wed husband and wife on numerous occasions. The Dutchman had dragged Ciel out on the dance floor and tangoed with her one night, a rather odd action coming from someone so aloof. She was horrible at it, and Charlotte had a good laugh about how much she botched the steps, but it was a fond memory. One of many she had of him. Of them.
Ciel sighed heavily and replaced the cap. It's for Charlotte, she reasoned with herself. I don't want to be like him, and take her family away. It wasn't a justification she really believed in. A rather weak one for letting a murderer go free, but it was better than his She saw herself out wordlessly and marched outside, her face as stoic as she could muster. The only sign of her frustration was the bottle being tossed aside so harshly it shattered on contact with the pavement.
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Aug 22, 2014 14:46:21 GMT -8
Yeah. my motivation has all but gone caput for the time being =n= I know the AC's tomorrow, but I honestly couldn't write anything decent for this verse even if you paid me. I'm sorry guys ;A; Hopefully Niklaas will stop being a jerkass and wake up soon.
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jul 21, 2014 16:51:41 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jul 21, 2014 16:46:46 GMT -8
Niklaas leaned back and cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders to ward off the imposing stiffness that had begun creeping up his back. He was used to sitting for hours at a time, but then he had been comfortable or tucked somewhere in the corner where the only indication of his presence was the music he played. Here? He was front and center, surrounded by a world he hadn't belonged to in over ten years. He could imagine his mother being here, gliding from person to person and joining in on their conversation as naturally as breathing, and laughing the loudest out of everyone. He didn't often think of mother and father, but when he did a small feeling of guilt welled up in their stomach. Wherever they were, they were probably ashamed of the son who they had so much hope for. Just another reason to leave the past dead and buried back in the Netherlands; he didn't need the imaginary ghosts of his parents to haunt him.
He stood up and tucked the piano bench in, weaving around party goers and offering muttered apologies to any women that he might have nudged (never let it be said he wasn't taught how to be a gentleman), making his was over to the bar. He could have sworn he saw Ciel, but quickly looked away. They were friends, he supposed, and she was good company but every siren in his head screamed at him to stay away from her. Best to keep her as far away from him as possible. Of course it was always easier in theory than it was in practice, since the elegant young lady seemed to exemplify everything Niklaas found attractive in a person. God fucking damn it.
An American with flaming red hair left the bar as soon as Niklaas sat down, but the Dutchman didn't pay any mind. It was true enough that American tourists were insufferably annoying, but so long as they kept out of his face, Niklaas didn't mind them. He ordered a glass of red wine (he didn't drink it as often anymore, but might as well indulge himself in someone else's freakishly expensive alcohol) and turned around fully in his seat to survey the crowd. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it purely as a force of habit, and the bartender behind him cleared her throat in the most exaggerated way possible. When he looked back at her, she was drumming her nails against the counter impatiently, a scowl set firmly on her face.
“Smoking isn't allowed inside.” She said curtly, her nose wrinkling in distaste. Niklaas frowned around his cigarette, letting out a steady stream of smoke out of the corner of his mouth before removing and extinguishing it. He placed the barely-smoked cig back in its box and turned to face the bartender, eyebrows cocked in a vague “happy now?” gesture. The glass of wine was slid over to him before the bartender left to tend to her other customers. The wine was rich and fruity, very full bodied with a slightly bitter after taste. The kind of wine you sipped and savored; not exactly his taste, but it would do. He doubted the bar carried chocolate wine, which was a damn shame.
ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN |
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jun 23, 2014 15:46:53 GMT -8
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jun 3, 2014 12:45:59 GMT -8
To be perfectly honest, Niklaas came here less for the books and more for the coffee. It was well made , reasonably priced and one of the baristas was a nice enough young lady named Jennifer. She was student who was trying to pay her way to France in order to study at a university in Paris. She responded to Niklaas' playful flirting with a eye roll and a smile, reminding him that she was perfectly happy with her girlfriend, and neither him and his jazz musician charms would ever change that. That, and his accent was a bit too guttural for her tastes; a complete turn off, honestly. Joking flirtations with Jennifer aside, the Dutchman paid for his coffee and sought out an unoccupied table, absently stirring the ice cubes around with the straw (there was no way he was going to order hot coffee, not in this humidity). He rarely actually bought books here, if ever, unless they really grabbed him, fortunately the employees didn't seem to care all that much. So long as he was giving them his money and not just sitting around using the wi-fi, he was left alone. Generally speaking, this little shop was a nice place to kill some time, since it was still too early to go out and go to a bar somewhere. Being day drunk wasn't his thing. Besides, it wasn't nearly as satisfying as getting high, which he would be doing at the moment if he wasn't low on marijuana. That shit was expensive and he wanted it to last a little while longer.
He was browsing the shelves, turning his head at just the right moment to see a young blonde woman walk by. He then proceeded nearly choke on his coffee. Thankfully he remembered the joys of swallowing, and coughed harshly into a fist, thankful that he hadn't spat any liquid onto the shelf. That would have been something he would have to pay for, if any of the books got damaged.
“Godverdomme,” he groaned with a sniff, rubbing the bridge of his nose and giving one final, pitiful little cough. That was a rather embarrassing loss of composure, and he was thankful that no one seemed to witness it (and if they did, they didn't say anything). What he wasn't thankful for was who he thought he saw. A certain regal young lady who he had hoped to never see again. Niklaas leaned against the case behind him and took a deep breath, eying the cup in his hand suspiciously. It seemed like figments of his past were coming back to haunt him. His encounter with Nico a week or so ago, now her? Fuck, what next? Where his dreams going to be haunted by his old targets when he closed his eyes that night?
“Christ, listen to yourself,” his mind scolded in a irritated tone. “Blonde haired girls with glasses are a dime a dozen. Chances that it's her? Almost impossible. She has a principality to run and a huge manor to lounge around in.” Niklaas mulled over the thought for a few seconds and nodded. Maybe he was just getting old and paranoid; but in his old life paranoia kept him away from the prison cells. Even still, there was a point where paranoia became absolutely ridiculous, and he was sure he just crossed it. Best to just go about his life and keep that girl, real or no, as far away as possible. He liked being alive, thank you, and wasn't planning on rotting in prison over a life he had given up a long time ago.
ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN |
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jun 2, 2014 18:22:32 GMT -8
Nico Lorentz... Niklaas' eyebrows creased slightly at the name. He had an aunt with that surname, and a brother with that name... coincidence? The clues were piling up against it, but still, you can't just ask declare that you think someone's your missing little brother because they shared a name. That was an incredibly stupid thing to do. That, and it would probably just make the other person think he was out of his mind. Your previous occupation proves it enough on its own. The more pessimistic part of his mind reminded him flatly, and Niklaas frowned at it. The man he was in the past was dead and buried. The only things he brought to London was his final paycheck, a few sentimental items, and his birth-given name.
"Niklaas de Vries," he started. “And I can't say I've been, no.” The Dutchman said as his clapped the book closed and put it back on the shelf. He couldn't read if someone was playing twenty questions with him. “I don't believe in luck, and I'd rather not lose my money because of one bad dice roll or dealt hand.” He did indulge in a few rounds of poker in the back rooms of the Vortex, but he and his co-workers usually bet frivolous items; cigarettes, favors, or anything they had in their pockets at the time. One or two people had offered that Niklaas risk his trademark scarf, as a joke, but one glare shut down the offer easily enough. It was starting to show it's age, with the blue fading and the ends fraying slightly. More of a reason why he left it at home whenever he went to work.
He removed his reading glasses and slipped him in his pocket, turning to face the young man completely. “Aren't you a little young to be in a casino?” Unless London had lowered the legal gambling age and he didn't realize it. That, or Nico was older than he looked. Not that he had the right to criticize someone for their shitty life choices.
ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN |
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on Jun 2, 2014 17:44:55 GMT -8
-Probably drank way too much. Last night he was face down on his couch. What the hell-
(NEWCOMER!: Niklaas)
|
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on May 25, 2014 2:40:08 GMT -8
Niklaas de Vries | Netherlands | In Which Niklaas is The Only One Without a Devious Ulterior MotiveYeah, Berri, as much as I love him, his muse is just dead silent. I feel like if I force myself to post for him to meet a deadline, it won't nearly be as good as it would be otherwise. Apologies to anyone who wanted to plot with him (i.e Chilly) but I'm just not feeling it. Maybe the timid little ol' Swede will come back sometime in the future. C: |
|
Offline
Aug 19, 2015 8:50:19 GMT -8
Tag me @bunnies
|
|
Post by Niklaas de Vries on May 15, 2014 10:04:29 GMT -8
The atmosphere of high society and pretentiousness was suffocating. He doubted he would enjoy this kind of situation even if he was living the kind of life he was “supposed” to be living. He wanted to smoke, but smoking wasn't allowed in the ballroom; it was “offensive”, security had said, so Niklaas had to settle with the complimentary peppermints offered at the front desk. He clanked the one in his mouth against his teeth. Just focus on playing and get through the night, then he could smoke all the cigarettes he wanted. Not that he could, of course. Smoking a pack of cigarettes a day got insanely expensive, not to mention wasteful. Why even smoke if you weren't going to enjoy the nicotine? But that was neither here nor there. He flicked the mint to the other side of his mouth with his tongue, and continued to focus on the music rather than the suffocating feeling and the urge for a smoke already rearing its ugly head. At the very least, these people had good taste in music, as his current request was Stardust by Hoagy Carmichael. A soothing, romantic piece that was as smooth as silk and as rich as fine wine. The woman who had made the request, perhaps in her late twenties with curly caramel colored hair, sighed dreamily as she watched Niklaas play his piece. The Dutchman smirked inwardly. For being someone who was, at best, only moderately attractive, he prided himself in being able to make a women swoon with his music alone. It had gotten him all the sex he could ask for, and somehow two girlfriends in the process, if she first could indeed be categorized as a “lover”. All of their passive aggressive arguing and bitching wasn't what one could call “romantic”, and their sex was less passionate and more a contest to see who could dominate who. His second girlfriend, on the other hand, was closer to the typical ideal of what a pair of lovers was. Seemed like something out of a romance novel, actually. It ended like one too, bullshit drama included just because the author (God in this case) decided to throw it in just because he could. But the past was in the past, and it was pointless to dwell on it.
Niklaas popped another mint in his mouth and cracked his knuckles, as the caramel-haired woman curled some hair around her finger and, with a flushed face and genuine smile, bid him goodbye and disappeared into the crowd. He glanced over his audience for the evening. Half of them were probably just riding on the coattails of their parent's fame and fortune and reaping the benefits. But maybe that was him just disliking the ravish lifestyles of high society, period. He was about to turn back to the piano stand, reaching into his jacket pocket for his reading glasses, before doing a double-take back to the crowd. It was a blink-and-you'll-miss it moment, but he swore that he saw Nesia, dressed in a waitress outfit and looking as shy and nervous as she had when they first met. The moment passed as quickly as it came, and the Nesia lookalike turned and vanished into the crowd. With a frown, Niklaas bit down on his mint and turned back to the piano, slipping on his reading glasses and flipping through the sheet music resting on the stand. He had probably just imagined it. If this atmosphere was getting to him, it would probably suffocate shy little Nesia. Besides, how many tanned skinned, black haired girls were there in London? And if it really was her... then so what? She was probably here for the paycheck, just like he was. Chances were they'd both go home without so much as a “how have you been?” And if that was indeed the case, then so be it. Nesia had made it rather clear that she didn't want Niklaas involved in her life anymore.
Niklaas checked his watch before signing inwardly. He still had hours to go before he could head on home, and he hoped that he could take a smoke break sometime between now and then. In the mean time he re-adjusted himself on the piano bench, adjusted his glasses slightly and began his next song; Moon River by Henry Mancini. Again, at least these people had good tastes in music.
ELECTRIC OF GS AND BTN |
|
