Snippet #2425880

Jack continued his usual animated antics-- by now Alex had long since adjusted to them, though there had been a time when she had found them a little annoying. But then, back when she'd first been brought in to replace Legion's erstwhile lead guitarist in the studio, she'd been fresh off a turbulent period in her life, and she hadn't played in a band in quite a stretch of time. Maybe returning to the music scene with characters as... ah, colourful as Jack, Raisa, and Liam was not the most apropos of choices, but she didn't regret it. Anything about them that she had once found irksome she now found, if anything, a bit endearing, or at least unobtrusive, which applied as much to Jack's utter inability to get serious as it did to Raisa's utter inability to sit still and silent for more than the blink of an eye and Liam's inability to don any attire brighter than the blackest of black metal without presumably bursting into flames as a consequence.

She was probably a little drab herself in comparison, but if anybody was gonna come off as the quiet one in the group, she supposed she was fine with it being her.

"I see," the guy who had been named as Craig-- whom apparently Jack was previously acquainted with-- remarked. "Mourning the loss of the beard?"

Jack nodded solemnly. "I tell you, never have I experienced an existentialist crisis like the moment I awoke from a drunken stupor, and realised immediately something was deeply wrong with the universe. The mirror and helpful explanatory note she left beside me didn't hurt, though."

Something on his band's end of things seemed to have caught Craig's attention-- over by the sofas, where the skinny Irishman in the battle jacket and the skinny woman of indeterminate ethnic heritage in the significantly less conspicuous attire, she espied Legion's intrepid singer, evidently making conversation with the motley pair. "Hey, Edei," Craig called over, and the woman turned her head toward him. "I'll carry one of your bags for you."

A moment's hesitation, and Edei assented, tossing one of the bags and making for the elevator. "I'm going to go toss my shit in my room and find Crazy McRedhead to play cards," she remarked to those who hung back in the lobby; Alex raised an eyebrow. "Anyone else?" It wasn't a leap of logic to deduce that Raisa (who was almost certainly the Crazy McRedhead in question, unless Psychosis too was in possession of a psychotic redhead they were hiding away) had invited the lot for a game of cards. Without giving pause to extend the same invitation to her bandmates, of course, but then, was that not to be expected? She'd probably forgotten all about the idea the second after she'd had it.

"Cards, my loyal servant?" she spoke in a dispassionate, lordly voice, turning to Jack, who bowed low. "As the lord wills it, so it shall be." Then he straightened, and elabourated, "Which is to say, I hope you're ready to lose and lose hard, 'cause whether it's poker or blackjack, even Lord Fever quails before the gambling might of Jack St. Mark."

"Quail before you? Oh my, you're wearing Santa lingerie under those clothes, aren't you?"

"AM I NEVER GONNA LIVE THAT SHIT DOWN--"

"Chalk me up as one more for cards," Alex called over to Liam, leaving the bassist a quivering, despondent mass as she walked away with a deliberate aire of coldness, heading for the elevator. "Just gonna drop my luggage off in my room and then I guess I'll see you in Raisa's," she added to Liam as she walked by him, before reaching the elevator.

Not a moment later, and she was in her room, a small enclave of silence, of peace and quiet in what felt like the flurry of action that had led her here. The tour bus, the cramped quarters, that whole aspect of it. She set her baggage down, stretched her arms out, and-- because after all, she was alone, and the planets were all properly aligned, removed her metal-laden jacket. But now was not a time of repose-- and not just because of the impending card game. She had promised Helen she'd call her as soon as she had a chance at the hotel-- her daughter was deeply fascinated by her mother's musical career and the touring lifestyle, though Alex had assured her it was anything but glorious, and she loved to hear from Alex on the road. It brought a full smile to her lips-- Michael resented Helen's preoccupation with her mother's career, perhaps because it elicited more passion and liveliness from the otherwise subdued girl than anything he'd ever done.

... not that there's any bitter satisfaction on my part. No way. Er... okay, maybe just a little bit.

She shoved a hand into the pocket of her jeans, retrieving her cell phone and flicking through the contacts until the highlight fell upon the name Helen Rykov-Chen (yes, her daughter had her own cell phone-- Alex wasn't one of those 'BACK IN MY DAY WE DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A PAGER UNTIL WE WERE DEAD' types and she thought it was an important tool of safety and communication for Helen to have). She hit call, lifted the phone to her ear, and waited. The thing hardly got through half a ring before Helen picked up.

"Hey, Mom." The voice on the other end was hardly that of an eight year old-- anybody unfamiliar with Helen hearing the voice would have been led to believe they were speaking to a teenager. Alex grinned and sat down at the edge of the bed in her hotel room. "Hey, sweetie. How've you been today?"

"Fine," was all Helen spared on the inconsequential subject of her well-being, before, with a hint of impatience and anticipation colouring her low voice, she immediately cut to the heart of the matter. "Are you on tour now, Mom?"

"Sure am. Just got to the hotel a little bit ago and we already met one of the bands we're touring with."

"Which band?" her daughter pressed with genuine curiosity.

"They're called Psychosis. I'm..." Alex recalled some of the Psychosis lyrics she'd read in the past. "... not too sure you should look them up, sweetie."

"Are you gonna be playing soon?" she insisted, dispatching of the previous subject immediately and moving onto more significant horizons.

Alex chuckled. "All too soon, I fear."

"Don't you like playing live?" There was a hint of vexation tingeing Helen's curious voice now, and Alex hastened to assure her, "Oh, 'course I do. Nothing like it in the world. It's the touring in between the playing that gets me, y'know."

"Hm." Helen sounded almost indignant. "I think I'd love every minute of it."

Alex gave a full laugh at that. "Well, I suppose you'll just have to see about that once you get your own band going, eh?"

"I dunno about that. Dad says I can be whatever I want to be, but I know he doesn't like it when I say I wanna be in a band, and when I said I want a guitar for Christmas he told me it was too expensive. And Sandra thinks it's weird. She says kids my age should be playing with toys, not 'rock star stuff'."

"Well, the hell with th--" Alex caught herself in a heated moment too late, and grit her teeth together, forcing herself to dispel the sudden bout of vehemence that had emerged within herself. She hated having to play this part. "Sandra's your step-mother, and your father is... well, your father. They have valuable advice as well, and you gotta listen to them too." There was a very pregnant silence between the two before Alex couldn't help it and added, "But between you 'n me? Forget toys. I'll buy you that guitar myself. And if your dad doesn't like it, you can play it whenever you stay with me, and if he doesn't like that, he's gonna have to deal, 'cause I'm your mom, and if my daughter wants a guitar for Christmas then she's gonna be jammin' to Hendrix and Zeppelin before New Year's out."

The grin on the other end of the phone was practically palpable. "I knew you'd say that," Helen said, almost proudly. "Sandra and dad don't get me, but I knew you'd understand."

"'course I do--" Alex began to reply a little cockily, before she saw something out of her peripheral vision. She turned her head, and her gaze fell upon-- who else?-- Raisa, perched comfortably on the railing of the balcony outside her hotel room. I must have been too distracted to hear her pop up, Alex rebuked herself, the wide grin on her face quickly vanishing and replaced with a typical subdued expression. "Hey, sweetie, can you hold on a sec? Somebody's got a death wish."

"Is it Raisa?" her daughter replied knowingly, and Alex had to restrain another grin. "Nevermind that. Just hold on a sec, yeah?"

"Dad says I've gotta go to bed. Though I can probably sneak my phone to bed..."

"Uh, no, no," Alex hastily put the kibosh on that plan of action as she stood from the bed. She wasn't about to try that again-- not after the last time Michael had blown the whole fucking thing out of proportion and practically threatened to sever their custody deal if it happened again. "It's about your bedtime anyway, kiddo. I'll talk to you tomorrow again if you want."

"I'll be waiting," Helen replied almost enigmatically, though her attempts at ominousness were a bit marred by the disappointment in her voice, and the hang-up tone signalled the end of their conversation. Alex sighed, shoved her phone back into her pocket, and walked over to the balcony door.

"Making yourself at home, I see," she directed towards Raisa with a face utterly inscrutable as she opened the door and peered out at the drummer-- more irritated that her conversation had been interrupted than that she'd ended up, once again, in the room directly next to Raisa's.