disrupts | NOCTIUM IC INBOX

[Robert's ego isn't nearly as overinflated as Johnny's, but it still exists in a smaller segment, like a seed that hasn't germinated yet. A compliment from V is enough to feed it for now, and his grin widens at the edges. He plucks idly at a metal string with calloused fingers.]

Yeah, all five of those adoring fans in this shop. Maybe one day I can find a place to play a real gig and walk away with fifty instead.

[That'd be something, he thinks. Robert had always been told he has the talent for it, could probably pull in a crowd if he put his mind to it -- and if he put any effort into writing songs, not just covering what bands of old before him have already etched into the annals of music history.

As for that question, though... it sounds stupid but also... Robert's the kind of person who doesn't mind drilling a point home as much as Johnny does.]

What, you think I couldn't do it?

[ Presented with an option to play into this semi-dare, V doesn't answer. He's still thinking over what Robert's said. It doesn't feel comfortable knowing the way things turn out for both the better and the worse. Robert - Johnny by that point - draws in more than 50 people by such a massive number that hyperbole wouldn't be hyperbole at all. But that discomfort, the feeling like he's holding too many of the cards and he wants to share some, is something he knows he has to sit with.

In the end, he physically shifts on that couch to jolt himself out of that avenue of thought. He's keeping that shit to himself because nobody needs to know about things that haven't happened yet. Things they haven't done yet. It's not for him to share. Given the option to spare this kid the knowledge of that future? V'll pick relative peace for Robert every time. ]

Don't doubt you at all.

[ There's no trace of sarcasm to be found, just a man who knows determination when he sees it. ]

But if you're offerin' to prove it and stand on one leg like a gonk, not gonna stop ya.

[Well, V, as tempting as that is, Robert doesn't go out of his way to act like a gonk unless ~~it's to impress someone hot~~ there's a little something to be gained.]

And what's in it for me? Gotta have a better incentive to act like a fool in front of people other than provin' I can do something you already know I can do.

The everlastin' answer to the question: can you play on one leg.

[ V's lifting an arm, palm raised upward towards the ceiling and brows lifted as if implying that might be something anybody actually wants the answer to. ]

Thinkin' 'bout it... prob'ly would take somebody up on that if they asked me to prove I could ride a certain way. Or hit a target standin' on one leg. ...with a sniper rifle.

[ It's probably clear at this point that V's imagining how that'd go. The recoil alone would make it comical. Huffing out an amused breath, he shakes his head. ]

Even if ya did, wouldn't be the most gonk thing I ever saw.

So for the hell of it.

[Good enough of a reason? Debatable. Though the fact that V says that he’d be prone to do stupid shit automatically makes Robert more inclined… a little.]

Christ, a sniper rifle… how ‘bout you tell me about the most gonk thing you’ve ever seen on a job, and I might be willing to look like an idiot, playin’ guitar.

Yeah. Sometimes just 'cause.

[ Though at the question, V actually laughs. Night City's full of gonks, all different types. There's more than a few he's come across on the most basic gigs.

But there's one that comes to mind pretty easily. ]

Cyberware's not just for mercs. Like most places, anythin' that's got value... always gonna be a black market undercutting. Lotta people don't got the eddies to go to legit ripperdocs, so there's chop shops all over.

Thing is... get what ya pay for, right? And the people runnin' these chop shops don't 'zactly got much concern for their 'clients'.

So, this one night 'm drivin' back to my apartment and get waved down by this choom. And this guy's... he was almost bent in half. Somethin' was wrong with this guy, but I couldn't figure out what the fuck was goin' on 'til I stepped outta the car. Guy asks me to take 'im to a ripperdoc. A legit one. Says somethin' went wrong 'n he's gotta get to one 'cause he's in agony. So I agree, and there's... so many fuckin' holdups. NCPD closin' streets off. Traffic. Anythin' that coulda got in the way did. All the while got this dude ridin' shotgun groanin' in pain.

Turns out what was wrong was whoever he saw to get his dick enhanced with chrome... didn't do the best job. Gonk let some backalley punk fuck with his junk. No idea what happened after I took 'im to the ripperdoc. But I got no doubt there's a moral in that story somewhere.

[Robert barely can fathom cyberware as advanced as what V’s sporting, much less a cultural zeitgeist that makes going to a chop shop to enhance one’s dick the norm. But maybe it isn’t; from what he’s hearing, doing that kind of shady “upgrade” is still considered far from sensible.

There’s hope for humanity yet, he thinks, in this Night City.]

The moral of the story is don’t let strangers fuck with your dick.

[There’s an “unless…” joke that Robert sidesteps here, since flirting is off the table.]

People lookin’ for shortcuts to improve themselves, always just makin’ things worse. Wonder if the doc could save his junk.

[Mysteries of the universe.]

Maybe. Prob'ly paid more to get it fixed than it woulda cost to get it done right in the first place.

[ Morals aside, that's one of the stories he doesn't mind sharing. It's one of the lighter ones thinking about all the gigs he did in Night City. Especially when it comes to the real horrors of chop shops. ]

That gonk enough for ya?

[ He's not really expecting Robert to follow through, not when there really is nothing to prove. ]

[That eyebrow goes up again, as if Robert can hear V’s dubiousness regarding a follow through. There’s something about him that’s tempted to do it on that alone—never mind the gonk story or otherwise—probably chalked up to his inherent rebel spirit that hasn’t quite had its flame stoked just yet.

And so, with an almost-shrug of his shoulders, he’s standing again. The guitar hangs comfortably around him as before.]

Guess so. You can’t fuckin’ laugh at this, all right?

[Fine, he’s gonna stand on one leg like he’s a flamingo or something. He can do it easily enough without playing… sort of. The rest is the hard part.]

Got any requests? What kind of music you listen to?

[ Johnny'd be more likely to get his ass up just to spin round and flip him off. Robert's not doing that and V's bordering on astonished that he's seeing what he's seeing. Kid really is standing there on one leg waiting for a song request.

'course, in theory not laughing is something way, way different to practice. Something that V struggles with, fights to try and keep the corners of his mouth neutral and the tickle in his throat contained. ]

Uh.

[ Even that one sound's got the telltale signs of somebody trying not to laugh, the pitch wrong and delivery an inconsistent wobble. He's trying, okay? ]

Prob'ly nothin' that you heard of.

[ Side-stepping that time-breaking question to ask one in its place: ]

What's ya favorite song to play? Play that.

[He can see that barely tamped down laughter as clear as day, and Robert holds onto the neck of the guitar with one hand to keep balanced while he points accusingly at V with the other.]

I see you tryin’ not to laugh! I swear to god if you do I’m not doin’ this any—

[Here, he wobbles.]

Ah, crap.

[No time like the present, then. Before he falls flat on his face, he might as well pick out another of his faves from the year before he was born. A lot more modern to him than Helter Skelter, if not way more of a pain in the ass to sing, too. But he revs up the intro a little faster than usual, and gets to playing.

Hell, this is a song that could be about Night City if he knew anything about the place other than what V’s told him. But Robert just plays furiously on one leg, singing the lyrics about as ravaged as they are in the original cut, and—

Well, he manages until he gets to about the last wailing guitar solo, when his center of gravity just can’t quite hold steady, and his fingers press into the strings for dear life as he keens a little precariously to the side.]

Fuck, if you saw this actually performed you’d know it’s hard as shit!

[ Resorting to clamping down on his bottom lip with his teeth, V's cheeks are taut with humor. Whatever struggle he's experiencing, it becomes infinitely easier when Robert actually gets down to playing. Doesn't mean it's not ridiculous, pretty gonk, but also cool in a way that V can't really explain. Not every 18 year old wants to put themselves out there like this, taking up the challenge of playing on one leg in the middle of a store.

This time the lyrics get attention, the way Robert's really injected his own energy into them. The parallels to Night City aren't lost on V.

It's not until Robert's balance looks almost shot that V finally sits forward on the couch, expression very clearly impressed. Not that he really had any doubt about the teen pulling it off anyway. ]

Made it look easy, choom. That was preem.

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