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Here you go, @kate-flournoy. 😉 The self playing piano scene directly before my other one.
“I was only out for like two minutes,” Cobalt scratched at his hair underneath the edge of his hat, “It’s not like I’m dying.”
“Still, some food would be good,” the driver pulled up to the rickety looking old restaurant in the middle of town. “Besides, if you were only passed out for two minutes, then what were you doing for the rest of the ride here?”
“Sleeping. On purpose. I looked up and you didn’t seem desperate for conversation, so I zonked back out.” Cobalt gave the man his most apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to talk.”
The driver turned the key back and pulled it out, “I wasn’t desperate to talk. But I would have liked to know if my passenger wasn’t at death’s door.” He opened his door and stepped out, “Come on. We’re going in. If you aren’t hungry, then I certainly am.”
A few minutes later, they both sat at the counter of the restaurant munching their hamburgers. It was hard to not attempt a new hamburger-eating world record, but Cobalt was pretty sure his stomach couldn’t take that at the moment. He ate slowly, feeling less and less shaky as the food filled him.
Even with him trying to eat slowly, he still finished before the driver, who seemed to have something he was looking at on his phone.
Finally being alert enough to take in his surroundings, Cobalt peered around the room, not even sure what to take in first.
The most obvious was the license plates plastering the shelves and the whole ceiling. License plates from all over the US dotted different parts of the ceiling, some with plain numbers, some with silly customized words. Collectors’ items were everywhere, too numerous to find any pattern aside from intentional randomness.
“50 cents to play” declared a sign on the dusty keyboard of the piano in the corner. A coin slot was next to it, shining silver against the chocolate colored wood.
That’s weird. Can’t anybody just walk up and play without bothering to pay? Do they have some Viking piano guard that’ll club you if you try?
Cobalt nudged the man next to him, “Hey, what’s up with that?” he pointed at the piano, his finger barely emerging from his long, blue sleeve.
“Hmm?” the man looked up from his phone, saw what Cobalt was pointing to and shrugged. “Not sure. One of those self-playing piano things, I’ll guess.” He went back to looking at his phone for a second, then pocketed it.
“I’m meeting someone in town and staying with a friend after that.” He stood, “This is the end of the road for me. So, happy trails,” he smiled and shook Cobalt’s sleeve-covered hand. “And take it easy, will you?”
“I’ll try. But just for you,” Cobalt grinned, “Thanks for the food.”
“No problem.”
They released hands and the man walked out, humming a tune.
Cobalt drummed his fingers on the counter and continued looking around the room.
Barely any other people were in there. A few sat with headphones on and were concentrating on anything but their immediate surroundings. Others talked quietly among each other. Everyone was separated by at least one empty table and studiously ignored the existence of any other customers.
Cobalt stood on his notably stronger legs and started over to the piano, stepping carefully around the postcard stands and mirror in his way. His eyes flicked briefly over to the mirror and his ragged, pale form in its surface. He hadn’t noticed before how wildly all his clothes contrasted. Or how unwell he looked. Well, actually he didn’t really notice the second one there either.
Stopping for a moment, he grinned at the ridiculous image before him. The camo hat sat askew atop his head, clashing horribly with the dark, jewel toned scarf around his thin neck. His jeans were almost all dirt and the hoodie wasn’t far off, hanging in its limp, blue folds around him.
Cobalt simply snickered, took note on how much he looked like a hobo, and continued to the piano.
The keys had obviously not been played on for a while, he noted as he swiped his finger across one, sending a cascade of dust downwards. He looked around at the people who still didn’t notice him and were absorbed in their conversations.
Maybe I’ll try and play it, he thought, sliding onto the bench, I’m sure the Viking guard would take an IOU. Even if not, he wouldn’t club a hobo.
Sitting on his left hand, Cobalt began to pick out a tune. The piano was still in fine order. Why didn’t anyone play it anymore?
Then he spotted a few bright, silver things wedged in the floorboard at his feet. Two quarters. Fifty cents.
Ooh, hey . . . he picked them up and, one by one, stuffed them into the slot and hit the button.
A loud ragtime tune burst forth from the piano and the keys began to play themselves. Cobalt jumped back, almost falling off the bench. The other customers were quite aware of their surroundings now. All eyes turned to Cobalt and the self-playing piano.
He stood with a little nervous laugh and waved, “Sorry, just . . . just making sure it still worked.” Just then, his eyes rested on the two people in the corner booth he hadn’t spotted before. He knew those faces. Übel’s guards.
And obviously they knew his face, because their eyes were narrowed and Cobalt could practically see “murderous intent” tattooed on their foreheads.
They hadn’t stood up yet and their legs were under a table. He had a head start.
“Well, later, everyone!” Cobalt spun around and slammed his way out of the second door to his right, smacking off a large cowbell attached to the top of the doorframe.
The ragtime music faded into the distance as he ran as fast as he could down the street. Another door slamming sound echoed past him only a few seconds later, along with a few shouted commands in German. They were probably directed at him, but he didn’t pay any attention, partly due to the fact that he didn’t understand German in the first place.
He was losing his breath faster than he thought he would and good hiding places didn’t seem to be in abundance. There was a little spaceship thingy outside the restaurant that might work. Though it was extremely obvious and would cut off all escape options . . . never mind that, then.
The pounding footsteps and voices behind him were coming nearer.
Where else? Cobalt gasped in his breath and took a quick turn down a side street. The men followed him.
Of course they followed. It’s not like they’re scared of some old street. What I need to find is something they actually do fear . . . then use it to my advant . . .
His feet caught on his laces and he tripped, sprawling onto the sidewalk.
He was jerked up suddenly by a strong hand clamping down on his arm. Frantically, he flung his arm every which way, trying to get loose and only succeeding in getting his other arm grabbed.
“Come help me,” called the man who had grabbed him in a deep, accented voice, “I’ve got him!”
He was caught.Haaaaaaaaaa… that’s good. I like that. And I think I know what he looks like now, though I’m guessing he’s generally not quite that ragged. 😉 Thanks so much @writefury!
You’re welcome! 🙂 Glad you enjoyed it.
Just wondering, would you like to beta-read when I’m through combing out the end?@write furry, this is a great scene. I’m just wondering about this:
I’m sure the Viking guard would take an IOU. Even if not, he wouldn’t club a hobo
That part struck me as “Huh?”. The thing about the viking guard was humorous, but I just couldn’t think of any reason why the viking guard wouldn’t club a hobo when he would club anyone else. It seemed to me like, if anything, it would be the other way around.
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You know what @writefury, I would absolutely love that, but I can’t say I’ll have the time. :/
Let me know when you’ve finished it, and I’ll see if I can fit it in with my schedule.
Winter is usually an incredibly busy time for us as a family, what with plowing the steep driveway and ferrying our cabin guests up and down in our 4wheel drive.So let me know when you’re done— I’d love to, but I can’t make any promises. 🙂
@daeus Yeah, I was thinking about deleting that. I was mostly following Cobalt’s thought process and he would have worked the whole hobo thing for sympathy, so that’s why it’s there in the first place. But not everyone follows that sort of train of thought. 😛
@kate-flournoy No problem at all. 🙂 I totally get the whole big family busy-ness thing. 😛
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