contact part deux

[bouchonne]

if this were modern times byerly would probably make you listen to total eclipse of the heart before you were able to leave a message

Comments

[bouchonne]

[ A laugh. ]

Well, when you're a louche young man without a penny to your name and no real skills to speak of, you need to find a way to survive. My method was making friends. Or at least tolerant acquaintances. Spend a few decades doing that, and you'll find that you're, shockingly, actually rather qualified to take on a role in proper diplomacy.

[littlemissfutility]

I guess so.

[ She should probably ask what louche means--context doesn't help much here--but she's already had to ask about so many things. Instead, she adds ]

I'm kinda hoping it doesn't take decades for me, or I'm not gonna be much help.

[bouchonne]

Well, fortunately, you'll have better teachers than necessity and desperation.

[ His voice is rather warm when he says that - then, wryly: ] If I do not flatter myself overmuch to say so.

And honestly, dear mademoiselle, a pleasant singing voice is skill enough to contribute, indeed. One of the best things you can do is show that Rifters are not fearsome, wicked creatures. Learning some proper tavern songs, perhaps some sections of the Chant, and being kindly before and after your performance will do quite nicely.

[littlemissfutility]

I'm kinda tired of necessity and desperation, so...

[ That's good. She's already got some books out from the library, Mhavos-approved titles, to try and catch up. ]

I guess I'm gonna have to start hanging out in taverns.

[bouchonne]

[ He grins. ]

I can recommend a few. Saucy without being scandalous. Ah, and you should reach out to Bastien - he can teach you some good ones. Ooh, ask him to teach you the one about Captain Flint.

[ Which, also - ]

By the by, has anyone taught you the difference between bards and Bards?

[littlemissfutility]

...Is there a difference?

[bouchonne]

There is indeed. To be safe, call yourself a minstrel or musician. You should not want to be mistaken for a Bard.

[littlemissfutility]

Why not?

[bouchonne]

Ah, they're spies and assassins who just happen to play music as well.

[littlemissfutility]

...Oh.

[ God. ]

I mean, spying wouldn't be that bad. But I don't really want to kill people if I don't have to.

[bouchonne]

No. I...would not recommend it, if you can avoid it.

[ Anyway - ]

Besides which, they go through years of training. You could offend someone. How dare she! I worked long and hard to be called a Bard! And you don't want someone trying to beat you about the head with a mandolin.

[littlemissfutility]

Yeah. I know.

[ a n y w a y ]

So I'm a musician. Definitely not a bard.

[bouchonne]

[ Hm. ]

Just so. Nothing to see here. Just a girl and a song.

[littlemissfutility]

And maybe a lute.

[ She's going to have to save up for something she can play, if she's going to play for a job. ]

Do you ever play around the Gallows?

[bouchonne]

Sometimes. When I want to torture people.

[littlemissfutility]

I thought you said you were pretty good.

[bouchonne]

Oh, I'm excellent. But I also prefer to play at three in the morning.

[littlemissfutility]

...Okay, that might be torture.

[bouchonne]

Only for people who wake up early. Mad fools. Anyone who wakes before midday is demented.

[littlemissfutility]

If you're up by noon, you could play at three in the afternoon.

[bouchonne]

I could.

[littlemissfutility]

Then the rest of us could hear you play.

[bouchonne]

All right, all right, you've convinced me. I'll play in the afternoon.

[littlemissfutility]

And maybe you can teach me a song.

Or I can teach you one.

[bouchonne]

Teach me one right now.