Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2018 18:05:52 GMT -5
my love she throws me
like a rubber ball
but she won't catch me
or break my fall
like a rubber ball
but she won't catch me
or break my fall
Oh~oh the sweetest thing
This wasn't really Myron's kind of scene but it also was. Myron was all for quiet atmospheres and all when he was in the mood for it, and they were good for things like business deals and arrangements. Which was what this had been and now it was done with and the newest band whose contract he had just stamped, signed and sent off were away to go and probably drink themselves silly because he'd also picked up the tab. Unheard of, he knew. Hey, he was a nice bloke! And the kids had barely a handful of sickels to rub together between them so he'd really just taken pity on them. Their music was good but it wasn't great; Yet, it could be if they had the right kind of guiding hand. Like his. There was a reason Myron had went into the record label business besides the band as they were taking a few years hiatus, and it was because he had a passion for music and wanted to give others the opportunity he had personally had. Granted, his success could have potentially have been helped along because old Albus Dumbledore had liked them and put in a good word for them once they graduated- so in a way, he was just keeping up tradition, right? Only the ones who were tone deaf, were only in it for the money or really were going after the wrong profession were the ones turned away... unless they held a degree of promise that didn't suit Magyk Rock's.
Eventually, he'd been left alone to his booth, his table littered with empty glasses and a few full (of his own). Thursdays were quiet days for Myron when he wasn't in the studio helping with the bands or with his own band and hanging with the lads. Today... today was a day where he was going to let himself have a few quiet ones and relax, waiting to see if anyone would suck it up and come and join him. He was an approachable guy!... Once you got past his resting face. But he couldn't very well be smiling at everyone all the time now could he, else he'd be hauled off to the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungo's so they could do tests on him and find out if he'd lost his marbles. It beat hanging out with Toby back at his pad or with Viela, who would try to redress him again to try and get him to stop wearing black and wear something that wasn't ripped to bits. He loved his siblings. Of course he did. But he had very little in common with them and he tended to grow... bored. By comparison, the hospital had some element of entertainment. But regardless. Myron wasn't looking to check in so soon after the little fundraiser from last week, and was more inclined to sit about and see if someone wanted to join him, or he saw someone to go and join. C'mon, he was as much an eligible bachelor as anyone else. Can't blame a guy for keeping his eyes open, especially when they were rapidly approaching fifty years old. Yikes.
He was aging well at any rate and he wasn't the least bit bothered by his age on a genuine level. He didn't feel old, he felt experienced, and he felt like he'd been living life to the max for forty eight years. It had taken its toll. He couldn't go near bright light sources or outside without shades because his eyes were sensitive after decades underneath stage lighting, and his resting expression was a little grumpy (if not aggressive) looking from years of singing and throwing himself about a stage screaming lyrics at crowds of millions. If this was the product out of living and breathing music then he was taking it as a win and something that he admired about himself. Not once had he been tempted to throw the towel in, even when they'd been down to eating tins of baked beans because they couldn't afford much else. This was his livelihood and this was what made him feel alive. He was sure others could related to that much, especially the ones also in the music industry like himself. Myron couldn't understand the people who could take or leave music. It was like Quidditch. Who could honestly go to a Quidditch match- a good one, mind, with the Professionals (though the local teams were pretty solid too) - and be bored?! This year had been great for games. The Tornadoes had somehow come fleeing out of nowhere and straight up the ranks... and somehow, the Ballycastle Bats had wound up not far from their heels. As far as the national teams went... well, that didn't take much commenting did it? They were fucking cracking.
He flagged one of the servers- a dirty blonde bloke who looked half dead - and ordered himself another flurry of drinks so he didn't have to get up, then looked to the side as the boy left as someone finally approached. He smiled a bit, leaning back into his booth with his arm resting on the table. What was it this week, with seeing all of the Polyjuicers? Not even all together, but separately? It would seem even the most esteemed task master got out every now and again. "Wotcher, Alice! Staying for a drink or is that you on your way out?" He asked quietly, pulling his shades from his face as his smile turned to a smirk. At least the art of expressing yourself hadn't died. He had a lot of respect for the Polyjuicers, especially the driving force behind them. Even if he didn't actually know her very well and had barely spoken to her a handful of times. Most of his relationships were like that. But it was strange... at this rate he'd be seeing the other Alice, and Holiday, before the week was through. Not that he was complaining. It was just weird how things worked out sometimes.
Eventually, he'd been left alone to his booth, his table littered with empty glasses and a few full (of his own). Thursdays were quiet days for Myron when he wasn't in the studio helping with the bands or with his own band and hanging with the lads. Today... today was a day where he was going to let himself have a few quiet ones and relax, waiting to see if anyone would suck it up and come and join him. He was an approachable guy!... Once you got past his resting face. But he couldn't very well be smiling at everyone all the time now could he, else he'd be hauled off to the Janus Thickey ward in St. Mungo's so they could do tests on him and find out if he'd lost his marbles. It beat hanging out with Toby back at his pad or with Viela, who would try to redress him again to try and get him to stop wearing black and wear something that wasn't ripped to bits. He loved his siblings. Of course he did. But he had very little in common with them and he tended to grow... bored. By comparison, the hospital had some element of entertainment. But regardless. Myron wasn't looking to check in so soon after the little fundraiser from last week, and was more inclined to sit about and see if someone wanted to join him, or he saw someone to go and join. C'mon, he was as much an eligible bachelor as anyone else. Can't blame a guy for keeping his eyes open, especially when they were rapidly approaching fifty years old. Yikes.
He was aging well at any rate and he wasn't the least bit bothered by his age on a genuine level. He didn't feel old, he felt experienced, and he felt like he'd been living life to the max for forty eight years. It had taken its toll. He couldn't go near bright light sources or outside without shades because his eyes were sensitive after decades underneath stage lighting, and his resting expression was a little grumpy (if not aggressive) looking from years of singing and throwing himself about a stage screaming lyrics at crowds of millions. If this was the product out of living and breathing music then he was taking it as a win and something that he admired about himself. Not once had he been tempted to throw the towel in, even when they'd been down to eating tins of baked beans because they couldn't afford much else. This was his livelihood and this was what made him feel alive. He was sure others could related to that much, especially the ones also in the music industry like himself. Myron couldn't understand the people who could take or leave music. It was like Quidditch. Who could honestly go to a Quidditch match- a good one, mind, with the Professionals (though the local teams were pretty solid too) - and be bored?! This year had been great for games. The Tornadoes had somehow come fleeing out of nowhere and straight up the ranks... and somehow, the Ballycastle Bats had wound up not far from their heels. As far as the national teams went... well, that didn't take much commenting did it? They were fucking cracking.
He flagged one of the servers- a dirty blonde bloke who looked half dead - and ordered himself another flurry of drinks so he didn't have to get up, then looked to the side as the boy left as someone finally approached. He smiled a bit, leaning back into his booth with his arm resting on the table. What was it this week, with seeing all of the Polyjuicers? Not even all together, but separately? It would seem even the most esteemed task master got out every now and again. "Wotcher, Alice! Staying for a drink or is that you on your way out?" He asked quietly, pulling his shades from his face as his smile turned to a smirk. At least the art of expressing yourself hadn't died. He had a lot of respect for the Polyjuicers, especially the driving force behind them. Even if he didn't actually know her very well and had barely spoken to her a handful of times. Most of his relationships were like that. But it was strange... at this rate he'd be seeing the other Alice, and Holiday, before the week was through. Not that he was complaining. It was just weird how things worked out sometimes.
#word count: 1010 # outfit: Casual # tag:@alice
?fai
