It was happenstance that Everett had even reached out at all. But a bar in such a spot in the city needed a reason to draw customers. Any bar sells drinks. They can sell flirty and charismatic bartenders, or handsome bar owners with a twang to their voice. They can even sell a jukebox to add the same level of aesthetic, and to some, that would be enough. That beautiful set of notes on the same song every time it played, like a record that kept being re-used into obscurity.

What Everett offered was soul. Something a bar could do to set itself apart.

A jukebox lacked that power, the same sway of watching a jazz musician gift the customers auditory bliss as they drank and played their games. While some might say the era of greasers dancing on tables was still a good one, Everett believed fully that the income of a real musician would outweigh the costs. He needed food for Lyric and Harmony. Roach was an employer. A match made in heaven.

When the movers finished and left that baby grand piano in the corner of Ritual, Everett moved his way to the piano, fingers tracing the design and craftsmanship of it. He took a smell of it, and smiled. Magical. Roach knew the craft well.

Ah. They had been alone. Everett turned his gaze to the older man, taking a comfortable seat on the piano's bench. "A tuner is man-made by those with a trained ear. A musician without a trained ear is tone-deaf." His fingers began to go up the scales to test it. It took a once-over to get it fully.

Out of tune. Disgustingly so.

Set by the piano, Everett grabbed his own tuning hammer, reaching over the piano as he began the honest work of tuning the piano, the off-key sounds gaining a semblance of proper harmony. Each piano pin was inserted to the hammer, and the hammer twisted and turned to help coax it to its eventual goal. Not flat or sharp, merely where it needed to be. Everett's demonstration of skill.

Stopping midway, the darker-skinned male turned to Roach. "I can also man the bar on some nights. Free of cost for playing here. While my hands are more skilled with music, I know a party trick or two." he gives an almost-too-obvious fake smile.

Everett was not good at small talk.

Slowly, but surely, the piano's notes were growing more melodious than they had been, with each wrong note giving Everett a solid moment to twist his tuning hammer before trying again. Before long, the scales would sing in harmony together to give the proper scaling, and all while they spoke too.

Everett was smiling, a quiet laugh escaping the parting of his lips. That was the first genuine smile he made since he got here. "Fair enough. Better to have the hands of a skilled bartender, than the hands of a musician playing at one." he spoke, finishing his word and taking his seat. When Roach offered a drink, the darker-skinned male closed his eyes deep in thought. "Whiskey. Nothing too strong." Everett requested, not wishing to lose his ability to play just yet. "While you work, lend your ear to the music, and watch your bar come to life." Everett promised, cooing at his own confidence.

When his fingers set upon the keys, and Roach was at his bar, only then would Everett begin to play. For the first time in a long time, Everett put his heart into it. He played.

It was a slow song, each key pressed down to show that his tuning work had been worth it in the end. Each note did its job in succession to give a pleasant melody to the bar, bouncing off the walls in brilliant acoustics, to be enjoyed by all if ever a soul should be present. Every bar of music without even a hint of slipping up. All while Roach poured the glass.

He was genuinely smiling again. His heart was in it. Every note from his soul.

MUSIC LINK

That summer shine doused within the beautiful jazz club. A younger Everett was playing his best he'd ever at Sam's Pub, the hottest place in town. Muse by his side, his dance and melodic harmonization allowed for their music to transcend beyond the very fabric of normality. The bond between two could show so much more than one alone, even if Everett wasn't Muse's trainer. A Gardevoir who could sway the hearts of those who listened, and a musician who could actualize that sway to all.

Every note swirled around them as the spotlight was on him, it always had been. He had been his muse, and though his piano was his bed to lay upon, he sung to them all. In a language no one but him spoke. Other Pokemon would sleep cozily to the sound, and the people watched on with glee.

Everett looked upon Muse. An angel who could fly away at a moment's notice.

As Muse turned his gaze to him, a scarlet trail began to pour out of his mouth. Everett's eyes flared open in horror and shock. Muse's eyes were showing that same dead eyed stare the night he found him lying in his owner's skid row home.

All Everett could see was red.



The song was over, the whiskey on the coaster, and the older gentleman now behind him to watch, as Everett leaned back for a moment. He shook his head. This song brought him to a bad memory. But it could bring the best in other's. That was the point of the song.

Seeing the whiskey now, his darker hand shakily grabbed at it, turning it up and downing it without much thought. When it was just the ice cube, it returned to its resting place. "Thank you, boss." he spoke quietly, keeping his composure.

That would loosen him up.

Loosening up a bit and forgetting that face he saw in a flash of memory, he pushed it away. The thought too depressing for any person to keep thinking on. Thinking of another song, a hint of a blue moon on his horizon, he smiled towards Roach at his finger waggling.

"If they get invited, it will be strictly to buy a drink, and enjoy the performance. In that order. That should get you some better business on jazz nights." he shot a smile back, despite the older gentleman's word of warning. Not that Everett would ever risk the chance at stable work. Lyric and Harmony needed to eat, even if he, himself, didn't.

Where was he? Ah yes, blue moon. One more tune for the older gentleman to perform. He couldn't quite net himself someone to play bass, but the idea of finding another like-minded musician to collect a favor from was an interesting prospect.

His hands began to play again, not good idle. His fingers were liberated from their shackles of memory, as his drink helped him forget.

He was free.

Blue Moon

~ ~ ~

The scene plays in his mind so easily. Billiards night. The players encircle the table, the pool balls clack together, set at their start. The first player takes his cue, bends to just the right angle to make the first strike on the plain white cue pall. As it slaps the first of the billiard balls, they each fly off in different directions.

Shots are made to hit each respective ball into their holes, the audience watch on in amusement at the players skills. The cue ball smacks the stripes one by one, and the crowd give a small clap at the player's skill level. The stripes player hands the cue off. The solids player makes a perfect around the table shot, smacking three of his own balls in. Failing a jump shot leaves the cue back to the stripes.

Sweat trickles down each of their brows, but it's a good time. They both smile to each other in good fun wanting to win.

The song wasn't for tension between them. It was to let them relax to make the best possible shots they could. Who wouldn't enjoy, just a little bit of ambience? Relax, call another drink, and play. Play on into the night. As the blue moon rose out the window to illuminate, the victory was had. The stripes player losing by two.

The next players take their cues. The moon shined on.

Finished, Everett got up from his piano, and made his way to the bar. A more natural place for him lately, he sat down on a stool before answering Roach. "Never had one." he clarified, keeping his hands in his lap to not muddy up the bar.

Eyes up to Roach, he twirled a finger through a strand of hair, before continuing. "Not a smoker kind of guy though. Sorry, boss." he refused them, a sheepish smile from his lips as he looked away.

"Would you prefer me to call you Boss, or do you prefer something else?" he inquired, a look of worry shaping on his face.

Roach was mighty persuasive, if nothing else. Led Everett close to just taking it regardless. Still, the welcome was pleasant. Like being introduced before a small performance. Ah, but he had already played and lightly praised for his work.

"Roach then." he smiled, a slight bit happier to get rid of the formality of boss man. It was more personal. "May I ask what brought you here? To a wonderfully atmospheric bar in the midst of Slateport? Or would that be too personal?" Everett showed an interest. His way to get himself to not thinking about his own troubles. Delve into someone else's.

"I'd regale you with my own tale, but... I'll save it for another day." His smile was fake.

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THE EASTER LOPUNNY HAS ARRIVED! from its basket of eggs and gifts, it grants you the following item:[break]
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(ooc: you do not need to engage with the lopunny icly).[break][break]