I'm not busy at all. [ Tentatively, but not at all unfriendly. And then, a joke-- ] Pretty sure I'm not allowed to do anything for a couple weeks, anyway.
[ So anyway, she'll come up to the office. It takes a little time to figure out where it actually is, but eventually, there's a girl with long blonde hair in a ponytail, two sets of stitches around her eyes, and an unseasonably thick scarf around her throat, opening the door like she's not sure she has the right place. ]
The office has two desks, but Bastien’s not at either of them. He’s dragged his chair nearer to the room’s bookshelf, where one of the lower shelves has been doubling as a foot rest, but now he’s snapping his book shut again and standing up. ]
[ The curtains, the decor, the general sensibility—all hers, along with the second unoccupied desk.
He steps away from his papers to retrieve a pitcher and cups, and while he does he gestures to his desk chair, where the long neck of a lute peeking over the surface of the desk in front of it. ]
I have that, if you want to see how it compares. Or tell me how it is different from what you are used to. Maybe we have something similar and call it by another name.
[ Beth walks around to the chair and the instrument beside it. Shiny wood and an intricately carved soundhole, like a flower blooming under the strings, the head bent back. And it's definitely not a guitar: the neck's too wide, the body's reminiscent of an egg sliced in half. ]
Holy crap. [ That's under her breath. To Bastien, she says-- ] It's, uh, a lot of strings. But it's beautiful.
[ And he said she could see how it compares, so that probably means she can touch it, right? She looks up at him questioningly, a hand stretching out to pick it up by its broad neck, before actually taking hold of it and trying to figure out how to hold it. Her best guess is basically like a guitar--under her right arm, balanced against her thigh--and once it's safely tucked in against her side, she strums the strings experimentally. All of them first, then each set of two, getting a sense of the sound.
It feels about a million times more delicate than an actual guitar, partly because it belongs to someone else and partly because it's so much lighter than what she's used to. Everything about it is finely made. ]
It's...kinda close. [ The notes for each open string are just slightly off, but she's not about to retune it to what she's used to hearing. ] Like a twelve-string guitar. But a different shape. And this fingerboard's huge.
[ He looks less keen-eyed than he is, while he watches—interested most of all in how careful she is with it. How comfortable he would be letting her take it out of his sight. He’s considering it. So far, it’s likely. ]
You are used to fewer strings? [ If the fingerboard of her guitar is smaller, ] Maybe you would feel more at home on a mandolin.
We had those at home. Mandolins. I never tried one, but--
[ But I could try. The look on her face might say it, familiarity creating the smile on her face. She gets a hand around the fingerboard, pressing down on the strings without strumming or picking at them; right now, she's as interested in the feel of it as she is the sound.
It's been a while since she got to play something like this. ]
Just a hobby. I kinda wanted to be a musician after high school, but...[ Beth shrugs, the corners of her mouth tugging down again. ] It didn't work out that way.
[ She shakes her head, attention returning to the neck of the lute. The more she holds it, the more she thinks she could get used to it. ]
No.
[ She tries a chord, or her best guess at one--some of the open strings sound the same, some don't. It's mildly discordant, close but no cigar. And Beth's hoping it's a good distraction from the fact that she's not elaborating. A self-conscious little laugh escapes her. ]
[ Bastien's not easily distracted, but he is willing not to press where pressing seems unwelcome, so he smiles like he's forgotten all about the mystery. ]
You are so close. Why don't you borrow it for a while? See what you can manage without me staring at you, and then if you have questions you can bring it back by whenever you like.
[ Her eyes widen, one hand instinctively tightening around the neck of the lute. It's a silent yes, even if what she really wants to ask is really? ]
I'll bring it back soon. [ I'll take good care of it. But he wouldn't offer if he didn't think she would, unless he's crazy rich. ] And--maybe you can show me a song on it.
[ For now, she sets it aside and comes over to her water glass. ]
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...Not really. But I can.
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Are you busy? You can come up to the project office if you like.
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[ So anyway, she'll come up to the office. It takes a little time to figure out where it actually is, but eventually, there's a girl with long blonde hair in a ponytail, two sets of stitches around her eyes, and an unseasonably thick scarf around her throat, opening the door like she's not sure she has the right place. ]
Hi.
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[ Must be.
The office has two desks, but Bastien’s not at either of them. He’s dragged his chair nearer to the room’s bookshelf, where one of the lower shelves has been doubling as a foot rest, but now he’s snapping his book shut again and standing up. ]
Water or wine?
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[ They drink a lot of wine around here, don't they? She walks over, pausing not quite within reach of him. ]
This is pretty nice for an office.
[ A lot better than the last ones she found herself in, anyway. ]
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[ The curtains, the decor, the general sensibility—all hers, along with the second unoccupied desk.
He steps away from his papers to retrieve a pitcher and cups, and while he does he gestures to his desk chair, where the long neck of a lute peeking over the surface of the desk in front of it. ]
I have that, if you want to see how it compares. Or tell me how it is different from what you are used to. Maybe we have something similar and call it by another name.
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Holy crap. [ That's under her breath. To Bastien, she says-- ] It's, uh, a lot of strings. But it's beautiful.
[ And he said she could see how it compares, so that probably means she can touch it, right? She looks up at him questioningly, a hand stretching out to pick it up by its broad neck, before actually taking hold of it and trying to figure out how to hold it. Her best guess is basically like a guitar--under her right arm, balanced against her thigh--and once it's safely tucked in against her side, she strums the strings experimentally. All of them first, then each set of two, getting a sense of the sound.
It feels about a million times more delicate than an actual guitar, partly because it belongs to someone else and partly because it's so much lighter than what she's used to. Everything about it is finely made. ]
It's...kinda close. [ The notes for each open string are just slightly off, but she's not about to retune it to what she's used to hearing. ] Like a twelve-string guitar. But a different shape. And this fingerboard's huge.
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You are used to fewer strings? [ If the fingerboard of her guitar is smaller, ] Maybe you would feel more at home on a mandolin.
[ He comes closer. ]
Has it been a hobby or a profession, for you?
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[ But I could try. The look on her face might say it, familiarity creating the smile on her face. She gets a hand around the fingerboard, pressing down on the strings without strumming or picking at them; right now, she's as interested in the feel of it as she is the sound.
It's been a while since she got to play something like this. ]
Just a hobby. I kinda wanted to be a musician after high school, but...[ Beth shrugs, the corners of her mouth tugging down again. ] It didn't work out that way.
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No?
[ Prompting. In case she's one of those who only needs a little nudge to elaborate. ]
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No.
[ She tries a chord, or her best guess at one--some of the open strings sound the same, some don't. It's mildly discordant, close but no cigar. And Beth's hoping it's a good distraction from the fact that she's not elaborating. A self-conscious little laugh escapes her. ]
Looks like I'm gonna have to take some lessons.
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You are so close. Why don't you borrow it for a while? See what you can manage without me staring at you, and then if you have questions you can bring it back by whenever you like.
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I'll bring it back soon. [ I'll take good care of it. But he wouldn't offer if he didn't think she would, unless he's crazy rich. ] And--maybe you can show me a song on it.
[ For now, she sets it aside and comes over to her water glass. ]
Do you like it here?