Date: 2007-06-30 03:39 am (UTC)
"Okay."

There wasn't much chance he was going to say no to this or he wouldn't have offered; he sits up, props some pillows against the headboard, and leans back.

"I can't promise you any butterflies. I can't even promise a moth. I really can't promise I'll be able to keep my eyes open... but I can promise that this is the song I wrote for you." Without any further introduction, he launches into the song and it's a little slow and a little saucy and it reminds him of everything Faye is, from the turned-down tops of her little white boots to the look of longing she sometimes gets in her eyes, but only when she thinks nobody's watching. It meanders around a little, this song for Faye, but it sounds really nice on the tenor sax. The instrument's a little more sultry than your standard-issue alto sax; he's always liked the depth it can invoke when it's played well. These things were built for jazz music.

This isn't the first time he's given Faye a private concert. He'd do it every day if she wanted.
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Faye Valentine

March 2008

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