disrupts | NOCTIUM IC INBOX

[He's right, Robert can't tell that he's lying. It's as good of a reason as any, and even if it wasn't, he hasn't quite enough investment to pry. Their sync feels fine, so everything must be nova, right?]

Banned? [lol what] 'Cause you told them you didn't know who the Beatles were?

Long story. Didn't like me kleppin' a guitar from 'em.

[ Which isn't exactly the whole story; not even close. The guitar in question never made it out the store, but he and Johnny did, fast lane to the local jail.

Seems like a long time ago now, but that's the thing about this place. Time itself feels skezzed some weeks. ]

The Beatles? Yeah, I heard of 'em. Can't say they were big when I was growin' up 'cept an old choom in my clan who had this antique fuckin'... uh, they called cassettes?

[He scoffs disbelievingly, the sound lost to the air whipping past.]

Little before my time, too. But yeah, they're called cassettes, and those aren't even all that old.

[Maybe if he thought about it longer, something wouldn't quite add up. V being older than he is, the math would dictate that band shouldn't be far departed from his time at all, but thankfully the notion is derailed by that "long story". How's he not going to ask about that?]

You kleppin' a guitar... Was that a merc thing?

A favor thing. Could say it was my half of a deal.

[ It was supposed to be simple, and really it should've been. Klepping that guitar should've been one of the easiest jobs he's ever done. Woulda been if him and Johnny hadn't started an argument, kept it going until the Diamond Guard had more than enough time to tackle them to the ground. ]

Got distracted. Gigs don't usually go down like that. Let my anger get the better of me. So - landed in jail, me and this uh... friend of mine.

[Must've been a hell of a distraction, he thinks to himself. A regular klep job shouldn't be so hard for a merc who claims to have made a name for himself in Night City; anger must've bubbled up pretty hard to have spilled over and fubar'd the whole thing.]

Then how 'bout you direct me to a music shop that isn't gonna immediately kick you out, and you tell me why you got so angry in the meanwhile?

[ Keeping Robert on the artery road running back into the city, V thinks back to that gig. Thinks about how he'd been fit for bursting at the seams for too long before they even dropped down into that low lit store. Thinks about how his timing never runs to anybody's convenience, not even his own.

Definitely not to Johnny's. And honestly, that'd been true the entire time they'd been stuck together inside his head.

That gig had been a disaster, but the optimist in him isn't discounting the shit that got straightened out because of it. Still, if he had a do over, he'd try save it for after. ]

'cause I got the emotional filter of a five-year old. Somethin' bothers me 'n I find it hard to just... pretend like it's not there. Add to that people who're my family, anytime I got problems with 'em, it just makes it worse.

I'm a nomad an' some shit won't ever change. Family means everythin' to me. But it also cuts down deeper than anythin' else.

Got angry 'cause I had somethin' in my head I couldn't work my way past myself. Turned into an argument right in the middle of this store we were hittin' for this axe.

[ Exhaling a laugh, he adjusts his grip at Robert's side and takes a second to look out at the buildings that slowly get bigger as they head back into the city. ]

Sounds gonk but sometimes shit like that just gotta happen 'cause otherwise it just... it eats away at ya.

Right, nomads are all about family. Heard nothin’s more important.

[Besides, all Robert’s hearing sounds like normal human emotion. Keep something built up and the pressure will eventually make it all go bursting at the seams, unfurling in an ugly wave. Of course, not everyone’s the same — young as he is, unspoiled by jadedness, Robert still knows it’s not so easy.]

Probably why things like that don’t settle well with you. You’re used to havin’ a whole clan that’ll support you when something’s eating at your insides, right? Maybe what you don’t got is practice hoarding it all away when you’re livin’ someplace that isn’t home.

[But what does Robert know? Sometimes he wears his heart on his sleeve at this age, but sometimes he doesn’t. V seems like the kind of guy to remain honest and open about everything. He has been so far, and he’s known the man for less than a day.]

Everybody handles shit differently. No news there.

Edited 2021-07-12 23:03 (UTC)

Somethin' like that. Usually don't have arguments in the middle of the place I'm kleppin' from, though.

[ So, really, it's an unusual thing for him to get that worked up on a job. But some things - some people - have that kind of effect on him. Nobody digs deeper than Johnny does. Nobody's got the amount of knowledge the rockerboy holds about V. It's nothing new in terms of knowing that; Johnny's got full access to use as he pleases. Knows exactly what to say to make things hurt, if he wants. ]

So, we'll to someplace different. Checked out couple of the other music stores in the city after.

[ Not to klep from, but he had to get Johnny an axe one way or another. Might as well head for the one he's a legitimate paying customer at. Murmuring the directions, it won't be long before they're pulling up outside that music store. ]

[He’s curious about the details, but if it’s something V got that worked up over and he’s not offering them himself, he’s got a feeling he’s not going to get them, either. So Robert just nods, and follows through with the directions that eventually deposit them in front of the music shop.

He kills the engine, toes the kickstand, and takes in the sight of the storefront. It’s big, with yawning glass windows that allow a peek of the neon signage strung up inside. Looks like any ol’ music shop off of Earth, which is kinda weird if he thinks about it — also is kinda preem in its own way.]

Well, we’re not stealin’ anything today, but we probably aren’t payin’ customers, either. [lol Robert has nooo moneyyyy] So let’s just pretend we are so we still don’t get kicked out, huh? Nothin’ a shop like this hates more than kids manhandling their merch with no intent to buy.

[He might have inadvertently called himself a kid but that’s not the point.]

[ Sliding off the back of the bike with the kind of grace that'd betray his experience if that wasn't already clear, V glances up at the store front, too. It's been a little while since he swung by here to legitimately buy Johnny a guitar. Maybe they'll half remember him, who knows.

At Robert's reference to being a kid, V snorts. ]

Speak for yourself. Been a decade since I was your age.

[ Eighteen was fun though, he remembers that much. ]

Not bad at actin' like a payin' customer.

[ Which is when he extends his hand towards the door; after you, kid. ]

[At that, he has to roll his eyes. Hopping off the bike—]

Uh-huh.

[That’s probably a bit like the Johnny that V knows, a little dismissive gesture to boot. But he still sounds amused.]

Sure, whatever. You actually know how to play anything in there?

[He doesn’t wait for an answer before he moves to the shop, opening up the door to enter. It looks bigger on the inside than the outside, all manner of guitars lined up along the walls, amplifiers neighboring them. Racks of sheet music in the back, where it looks like the keyboards live. A smaller, darker-lit room farther down with the glow of screens emanating from where Robert can see. Probably some karaoke or some shit, he figures.]

Ah, preem. [Predictably… straight to the wall of guitars he goes.] Look at this collection, they sell that many here?

[ Following Robert inside feels just as weird, even with that familiar tone, the gesture. It's like sometimes he can see the origin of some of Johnny's mannerisms now, but then Robert opens his mouth and laughs, or says something that doesn't come close to the heavy dose of cynicism V's used to. It's a trip. ]

Learned a bit recently. Can play a few chords.

How 'bout you? You any good?

[ Of course, V knows how good Johnny is. He just doesn't know how young that talent started. ]

‘A few chords’ and you can probably play fifty percent of the most popular tunes out there. Not a bad place to start.

[It’s muttered half-distractedly as he plucks a shiny black and sleek-looking electric guitar off of the rack. It absolutely glistens.]

I’d say I know what I’m doin’. A place like this? [He gestures to their surroundings. At the distant counter, the shopkeep can’t even be bothered to look at them — looks like they aren’t really all that concerned with these two coming in to take a look.] I lived in a place like this, literally. First floor was the shop, second floor was the livin’ space. You pick up a few musical skills in a situation like that, you know.

[ He's heard that before; from the same mouth, technically. There's a slight hesitation in his step as he turns that over, and then all the information that Johnny's never told him. It's like opening up a book and finding a bunch of pages were stuck together. There's a whole part of the story he's missed. ]

Yeah? You spent a lot of time there learnin' to play?

[ Shoulder to shoulder with Robert as they look up at the rows of guitars, V's trying hard not to ask too many prying questions. Thing is, he's pretty sure Johnny wouldn't supply shit like this even if he asked. Doesn't mean he's not curious as hell. ]

Learnin’ to play in order to sell shit.

[Maybe this puts a new spin in the fact that Johnny and V had broken into a music shop to nab a guitar — an ironic one. But for now, Robert has no qualms about sharing. Why would he? It’s no grand secret, no big bombastic origin story.]

My gramps owned the shop. Even when I was little, I was expected to pull my weight if I was gonna live there. So that meant learnin’ music so I knew what I was talkin’ about when all the dumb college kids showed up.

[He’s bringing the guitar over to an amp, where a bunch of wires already lay ready to be plugged in.]

Know a bunch of records by heart, too, whether or not I liked it. [He sounds a little exasperated by that.] 60s, 70s, 80s. If it was popular from back then, then I probably can at least sing it back to you.

That doesn’t mean I’m gonna, though, so don’t get any ideas.

[ Realistically, V knows Johnny would've had family when he was growing up, but he had no grasp of any kind of detail at all. Johnny's memories were very selective, only showing V the shit from his Samurai days. Nothing before that. A grandpa? That he hadn't seen coming, and why Robert lived with him instead of with his mom or dad... not his place to ask, but the younger guy doesn't seem to mind talking about it. ]

You 'n your gramps close?

[ A question that would probably make Johnny shoot him a real specific look, but V's just following the thread of the conversation. ]

[Johnny might still shoot him a very specific look when it’s all said and done. There’s a reason the older man doesn’t share, because he likes to keep this part of his life blocked off, like it was someone else altogether. The memories and experiences of a stranger that aren’t allowed to bleed into the existence of Silverhand’s, only float around on the background of its canvas like a ghostly, watercolor stain. Easier to deal with, easier to not talk about.

Even so, there exist fragments of Johnny’s propensity to clam up; Robert does it now, just a little, the way he keeps his gaze focused on slotting the cords into the amp, messing with the knobs on the front.]

Sure, yeah. Were, anyway.

[Feedback rings out. He makes an adjustment.]

Don’t matter if I’m here now, right?

[ Keyed in enough to Johnny's habit of brushing off any questions like this, V just nods, sits his ass down on the arm of what looks like a synleather couch - surely not real leather - and slides the sole of his boot up until it's resting comfortably.

He waits for Robert to finish up fiddling with the guitar, the amp, whatever he needs to before he picks up where they left off. ]

What makes ya think it doesn't? People like that - people we care about - shape us. Good or bad... people from the past always gonna leave some impression on ya.

[Fiddling with the gear can only buy so much time; he’s done this so many times he could do it in his sleep. It doesn’t take long just to set up one guitar and one amp that’s already been plugged in.

When he’s done, guitar slung over his shoulder, he considers what V’s said with a twist to his mouth.]

Yeah, ‘specially the people from the past who saddle you with debt after they die.

[And that’s the most Johnny thing he’s said, as if the rockerboy had taken hold of that one line just so he could speak it himself. The ghost of him fades when Robert shrugs, though.]

I meant that it doesn’t matter because all that’s gone now. State took what was due, and left me with pennies on the dollar. [To use an old phrase.] I think that bein’ shunted away to a planet where I can survive just by touchin’ people’s an upgrade, don’t you?

[ The words, the expression that deals the sentence out onto the table, it's so acutely Johnny that for a second V actually looks away. Like he's been caught asking too many questions and the older man's hijacked himself to slap them away. But eventually the explanation comes and it's so multifaceted that V's brain supplies about ten different thoughts based on that alone.

How Johnny got here'd probably blow Robert's mind, but honestly? It's all relative. V at least knows something about having shit taken from you by bigger, badder bullies who don't give a shit they're taking away your only means to survive. His heritage is awash with that, so when he looks back his brows are pinched together. Yeah, it fuckin' blows. ]

Place ain't all rainbows 'n walks in the park but... yeah. That's rough. Didn't have anybody else who had ya back?

Nope. [A strum of the guitar, a messy chord. It wails appropriately.] Was just me and gramps against the world. Then it was just me, and I realized I was outnumbered.

[It’s like was a wall holding the tide back. And for so long, he never knew what was being kept at bay until that wall fell — in came the debt, in came the people looking to collect. Shitty thing is that part of that debt had to be chalked up to taking care of him, and the guilt still prods at Robert sometimes, like needles against the heart.]

It’s why I’m jealous of you — a nomad’s got a whole clan for a family. Lose one member, always got another to rotate out.

[He regrets it the moment it leaves his mouth, sounding a little too bitter, a little too condescending.]

Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.

[ Raising a hand - he's not offended - V can at least understand the sentiment. It's not the first time he's been told he's lucky to have had a family, and he doesn't disagree. Life as a nomad's hardly a life of luxury, or comfort, but Robert's not wrong. Your clan's there for you, as long as it's not falling apart. As long as you don't leave it behind. ]

Don't gotta apologize. Know 'm lucky to've been with my clan for as long as I was. And when I got to Night City, 'fore I even crossed the border... started buildin' my own clan. Family I found.

[ That's what feels normal to V, the only way that life makes a lick of sense. ]

Look, I know this is gonna sound like 'm just handin' out platitudes, or that 'm just payin' lip service but... you're not on your own anymore. Whether you wanna be or not, for whatever reason-- I'm just tellin' ya... you're not.

[ And then V does the only thing he can think of to try preserve some part of what he can imagine is Johnny's tattered dignity; he nods down at the guitar. ]

Dunno if I believe you're any good, though. How'm I s'posed to know if ya don't give me a demo? What was that song called? Helter Skelter, right?

[He finds his look wandering to a nondescript part of the shop when V gives his reassurances. Not because he’s dismissing any of it, but because even now, sometimes this is hard to listen to. Acknowledging that he’s been on his own should be easy since it’s been so obvious for the past year or so, but there’s something about hearing it spoken aloud by someone else that puts a painful spin on it.]

…Thanks. Just got here, but I’m gonna have to take your word for it. If nothin’ else, prospects are better now.

[But thank god for salvaging his dignity; maybe both Johnny and Robert’s. The enthusiasm bleeds back into him, now that the subject is switching lanes to music, and him playing some of that music. He looks at V with renewed interest.]

Told you I’m good, and I meant it. [His hand slides up to the right frets without even looking, without any pause. ] Helter Skelter, from ‘68. Straight off of ‘The Fuck is the White Album’, as you’d put it.

[A smirk, and that’s really the only preamble he needs. He’s not shy about performing, that’s for sure, having some experience doing this countless times, and Robert launches straight into a one-man rendition of the song, amp blaring and guitar strings sounding brightly.

It’s a chaotic piece for the day. Probably one whose vocals require a bit more yelling than singing for the Beatles, at least, and that seems to suit Johnny well. He thinks the lyrics are amusing, too, in a destructive way — clever, though he’s got no time to make commentary when he’s singing it word for word, beat for beat.

He manages to turn even the shopkeep’s head, at least, and a few costumers milling about. It’d be more flattering if he wasn’t already kind of used to it.]

[ V hadn't thought in earnest that Robert was going to suck at this. True to form, he doesn't. Maybe the song does sound familiar, but V's not really paying attention for similarities. He's just listening, enjoying the song in a way that's more interested in Robert's voice than the lyrics he's singing. The way he's playing that guitar like it's just an extension of him.

Somewhere during the song his fingers start drumming at his thigh, mostly to the beat but he's no musician. The only beat he knows much about is the kind that has two fists and a problem with nomads.

So, when Robert's finishing up, the attention of most of the shop at this point focused in their direction, V only just manages to not applaud with everybody else. It really was preem. ]

Yeah. Okay. Pretty good.

[Just like V knew he was good at riding a bike through the city, Robert knows he can play. The attention foisted onto him when he’s done isn’t surprising, but it’s always appreciated. The teen seems to preen in it — but what young man wouldn’t?]

‘Pretty good’? That’s it?

[—he asks V after the applauding and compliments have dispersed, giving him leeway to plop down on the other side of that sofa.]

You’re not an easy guy to impress, Mr. Big Time Merc. Next time I’ll do it standing’ on one leg.

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