, COME ON SWEET CATASTROPHE

[Dexter Bagley]

This guy was fucking terrible. That was the only thought that had managed to make it into Dex's mind. Someone had foolishly allowed themselves to believe they had talent, nay, some form of musical potential and had decided to grace the small coffee shop with a guitar in hand and a small harmonica which, in that moment, was bleating so poorly that it felt like a hammer was repeatedly delivering blow after blow in to the sides of Dexter's brain. He really wanted to punch this guy in the face. Really. But his body felt like lead at the moment, which was a clear indication to him that he'd gone to far today. That and the fact that the stars were now dancing in front of his eyes, in big blurry blobs. They weren't actually stars though, what he thought he was seeing was in fact merely a string of incandescent bulbs against the back wall. Charming. It was already evening and dusk was almost falling, Dexter had proceeded to do what he always did. When a gig was not occurring and he needed some down time he would look for some place to get high. He had the urge for a piping hot mug of black coffee though, which was the only reason he'd decided to stop there as opposed to any other venue. And of course Dexter had mentally planned to drink his coffee, listen to some music and then proceed to get high. However he had, like always, decided to forgo steps one and two and was now sitting on a minuscule and rather plush couch, with a lukewarm cup of coffee on the table across from him and of course eying the current act, Mr. Make Your Ears Bleed, with a look that screamed "your a fucking moron but I kind of like it..." only in the sense that all the sounds were now starting to drain together as Dexter was losing focus and fast.

Passing of his joint to whoever the hell had taken up a seat beside him. He ran a hand through his somewhat matted curls, before resting his forehead in the crook of his arm, almost like a child would. Yes, at that moment he looked almost adorable...until of course he felt someone kick his foot. Looking up with the ultimate "what the fuck" look on his face, he was half expecting a band mate to be standing over him, grinning from ear to ear so Dex was somewhat surprised when it wasn't one of them at all.

[Cosette Abel]

The moment Cosette walked through the doors of Rock Coffee, she regretted it very much. It appeared as if someone with absolutely no experience or knowledge of the instrument had decided to pick up a guitar and begin strumming away for an audience. To top it all off, he had chosen a harmonica as his next method of torture, and boy, was it worse. The thing screeched and scratched against Cosette's ears like nothing else could. She would've put her hands over her ears had her parents not taught her manners when she was growing up. Truly, though, she wanted to grab the guitar out of his hands and begin playing some of her own songs--songs that were actually decent. No, more than decent. Cosette's music? It was good music. However, she really didn't feel like leaving. She was too stubborn to do that. She had walked into this place with the intentions of staying there and dammit, she was going to do it. So, she decided to find somewhere to sit. There were hardly any empty seats. It appeared as if many people thought this guy was good, otherwise the place would've been a ghost town by now.

There was, however, a free seat beside a rather spaced-out looking guy. He looked pretty sweaty, though. Gross. But, Cosette wasn't about to let this get in the way of her winning. And yes, she considered enduring this awful music to be winning. What she won, I have no idea: it was just her way of thinking. Anyway, she took a seat beside Mr. Sweaty, and was immediately passed a joint. Not used to this, Cosette automatically kicked the guy's foot. Again, don't ask me why. When he looked up at her with what appeared to be a spaced-out-yet-angry expression, she looked right back at him with the intensity of the fires of Hell.

"This guy is fucking bogus, isn't he?" She said.

[Dexter Bagley]

What a bitch. Dexter had come to this conclusion rather hastily while trying to collect himself after the brief moment of self-comfort that he'd managed to acquire had been absolutely shattered. Nevertheless his semi-pissed off look was slowly fizzing into something between the kind of confusion that leaves you wondering where you are, what you're doing and why you were mad to begin with and amusement in its simplest form. It's safe to say then, that the expression that followed was a classic Dexter. His eyebrows were furrowed, yet it was evident there was an internal struggle going on in terms of whether they were actually to be raised or truly furrowed and as a result just...hung rather strangely. To top that off with a semi-droopy smirk...thing it was all together strange to look at. Honestly, it felt rather strange to make such a face and yet he couldn't take his eyes off his new guest. She was hot. But he decidedly hated her. Nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders he eyed the stage before letting out a crackling cough and turning his attention back to her.

"Well some of us are actually trying to appreciate such a musical endeavor...so shut up." Yes it pained him to say musical because she was right. He fucking blew. But he seemed to get more satisfaction out of the shutting up bit than anything else. What she was a big girl. She could take it. Plus he really didn't need her to talk. Nothing was worse than a harmonica emitting random bleats with no purpose and a woman bitching right beside him. Not that it was just women...she just happened to be a woman. Yeah...wait what? He rubbed his eyes similarly to how a sleepy child would before resting his eyes contently on the makeshift coffee shop stage for only a few moments more. He couldn't do it. He was really trying his best. He had ADD. Must have. Or restless leg syndrome. Or an ear for actual fucking talent. Whatever the reason his lulled stupor was fading and fast.

"Fuck it. He's obviously a fucking moron. Are you going to light that?" Dex spoke casually enough as if he'd never told her to shut up to begin with. In fact he even threw in one of his best grins. The kind of grin that revealed his fantastic dimples. Who didn't love dimples? He didn't really care though. He'd given her the joint but if she wasn't going to smoke it he sure as hell was...