capeandcowllogs | So let me in from the cold

Pink is an insufferable ass, but Ziggy has mostly accepted it. It seems as matter-of-fact as 'Pink has brown hair' and 'Pink is awkward and uncomfortable about his sexuality'. Just sort of a defining trait that's probably better left alone.

There's music playing behind Ziggy's door when he hears the knocking. Something highly electronic that he turns down to a whisper before seeing who's come calling. He barely has to check the peephole before pulling the door open, standing in jeans and wedge sandals as he smiles at his unexpected guest.

"Well, hello. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He happens to be looking at the wine, rather than meeting Pink's eyes as he speaks, looking up with a smirk after. "Afraid you caught me tidying up." Though, truth be told, he was dancing and not cleaning when Pink knocked.
"Come in!"
He steps aside, giving his friend room to enter.

Pink is trying very hard to not care about how bringing a gift of wine might come off. That's Ziggy's problem, if he wants to make something of that, isn't it? Right. Besides, the rest of the gift is a bit less likely to give that sort of impression.

"Hullo. Hope you don't mind my interrupting."

He steps inside, and offers the bottle. It's pretty decent wine, even. "An apology." He can already see where this is going, and says it himself, before Ziggy has the chance. "Yes, Hell's froze over. Thanks."

"No, it's alright. My door's always open to mates bearing gifts." He ushers Pink into the room, decorated in bright scarves and Ziggy's scattered costumes and given an otherworldly feel by numerous strings of fairy lights overhead. Ziggy closes the door reaches for a wide necked girl's shirt with Mickey Mouse on the front that they picked up during their trip; sliding it on to cover his bare chest for Pink's sense of modesty more than his own.

He takes the wine, smirking at it slightly but looking a little confused. Almost as though he's pausing for the rest of the joke or something. "An apology?" He snickers at Pink filling in the joke for him. "What for?" It could be a dozen different things and it's hard to decide which Pink might actually feel bad for.

"I'll keep that in mind. Can I sit?" Usually, he wouldn't bother asking, but having come for an apology, it seems like he should be a little more polite, overall. He even averts his eyes as Ziggy puts the shirt on, the same way he would, one can only assume, for a woman. Paying his fellow musician all those same little courtesies.

"The shit we keep talking about. 'bout me trying again. Getting -- involved with someone again." Now, finally, the going gets a bit difficult, managing to get the words out. "I got into another conversation about it, and he made some good points. And if he's right, you're right. And I wasn't."

"Of course. Make yourself at home." He laughs, wondering why Pink's being so formal. Zigs goes to the kitchenette, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet and coming back to have a seat next to his friend and listen to this apology. Whatever it's for, it has to be good and he's unlikely to hear anything of the sort again.

Ziggy tilts his head, curious and attentive. The things they've been talking about? Oh. So this is about Pink's push towards emotional isolation. Well. Not the most offensive matter he could make up for, but it's something. Also, Ziggy is happy to hear he might be changing his mind on the subject.
"So, when I say something it's completely dismissible, but if some other bloke has the same opinion thenyou might be wrong? " He arches a brow, eyeing Pink. Finally he laughs and uncorks the wine to begin filling both glasses.

"You're forgiven, love. I'm glad you're going to take a chance, whatever the reason."
He holds up a glass of wine for his friend to share his gift.

Once he's sat, Pink remembers to give over the rest of his gift. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a little baggie of weed and a pack of rolling papers -- unopened -- and setting them on the most convenient flat surface, to be noticed whenever Ziggy gets around to it. Happy Wednesday, Zigs.

He shrugs, sheepish, as the other man points out how he'd put his foot in his mouth, there. "When you put it that way. He made some other points." Discomfort. Guilt. And an odd little flush of protectiveness. There's something there (someone) that matters to him, in some way.

At least now there's wine. He takes it, gratefully. "Thanks." A sip, before he continues. "Went out for coffee with a girl, but I don't think much is gonna come of it."

Edited 2012-03-18 05:01 (UTC)

Ziggy is left unaware of his second present, for now, lifting his own glass to sip as he listens to Pink stammer over what he guesses is some kind of excuse. It's odd. This feeling of protective affection and respect that Pink exudes for this 'other' insightful gentleman makes Zigs feel...slightly bitter. Jealous, maybe, but he's almost never jealous. He acknowledges it internally but pushes it away for now. No use ruining the mood or prying too much when Pink's actually opening up on his own for once.

"Did you? Well, it's nice you gave it a go at least. Why d'you suppose it won't come to anything? Not attracted to her?"
He took another drink and leaned back, lounging comfortably.

If Ziggy doesn't notice it by the time he leaves, he'll take it with him, Pink tells himself. But he already knows he won't really.

"Mm. A bit. She was pretty enough, I s'pose. But..." He makes a little sound, and shrugs. Sweet enough, yeah, and they'd even agreed to meet again for coffee -- but on a strictly friendly basis. There just hadn't been any spark.

"It just didn't work. I think I need someone who's on my level. Not necessarily another musician," he clarifies, leaning forward and pulling a knee up against his chest. Curling, contrasting Ziggy's sprawl. "But someone who's got a fire in them. A creator. You know what I mean?"

Edited 2012-03-19 13:24 (UTC)

"Mmm. Afraid I know exactly what you mean, darling. I've had something of an addiction to musicians, artists, and designers for just that reason."
He smiles a bit wistfully, thinking of all the passionate and creatively driven lovers he's had in the past. How could he settle for anything less when there were fiery artists still out there in the mix?
"Still, sorry it didn't work out for you this go. Proud of you for trying, mate."

Ziggy takes a long drink and sits up to set his glass down, nearly setting it on his surprise. He picks up the baggie and papers with his other hand, laughing in delighted surprise. He unrolls the bag and opens it to take a deep whiff of the contents. "Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn't have!" He's impressed with the extent of Pink's apology. And very pleased.
"This ought to help me get over how bloody empty my own love life's been, of late. "

Pink gives a shrug, and a wry little smile. "Score one for that, at least." He's still not completely convinced that he's suited for romance. For companionship. But... he's not a coward. He doesn't want to be a coward. If he can find someone to be with, someone to fill the hole left by the other female figures in his life... he can at least try.

Finally, Ziggy finds the other bit of his gift. And receives it with the enthusiasm Pink had been hoping for. The brunet gives a little more of a smile against his wine glass, as gratitude is heaped upon him. "I found a guy. I can pass your name along, if you want." If Zigs hasn't found his own source yet, it's the least he can do.

The little tidbit about the other man having his own dry spell is greeted with a certain degree of shock and skepticism. "Not you. I won't believe it."

As long as Pink hasn't given up entirely, Ziggy trusts he can find someone. Someone who will help him let down all the barriers he's built around himself. It will take someone special, yes, but Ziggy is nothing if not hopeful.

If Pink were anyone else, he would get a kiss to show how grateful Zigs is, however he knows better. It would only make things uncomfortable for his friend.
"Please do. I haven't found anything good yet." Much the same reasons he hasn't found any regular bed partners, actually.

He sighs as Pink doubts his luck can be so bad. Ziggy laughs and shakes his head. "It's tragic, I know. A few fun little trysts here and there, but nothing like I'm used to, honestly... It's these bloody, stupid....'powers'. Once things get far enough, it's marvelous --you have no idea-- but crowd's are still a little difficult. It's getting better, though. So...things ought to pick up." He laughs, smirking, and pulls one of the papers from the box to lay it on his thigh and start filling it with bud.

"Will do." He knocks his wrists together, a lazy gesture that could only pass as something meaningful if you recognised what it was based off of -- not much of a chance of that, with Zigs. Pink barely gives it any thought, anyway. Just takes another sip of his wine.

"No details. Thanks." Ah, there -- there's the flustered. It was starting to look like it might not show up. He'll swear up and down that there's not a bit of him that's even a little curious, too. No details. Flat out. "Glad you're getting the hang of it, though. I know it's been tough."

Edited 2012-03-20 04:07 (UTC)

The gesture is odd and he has to wonder if it's unique to Pink's own version of the wold or maybe colloquial or after his time (as it were). He mostly just lets it go, assuming it not to be anything lewd or hurtful and that's all he really needs to know. He's busy running his tongue along the edge of the rolling paper, anyway. Licking it slow, then twisting the ends.

He grins around the fresh joint, amused at how nervous the idea of his sex life makes Pink. "Deal, if you give us a light."
Ziggy holds the tightly packed spliff between his lips and leans in, waiting for Pink to produce a flame for him.
"It's been strange and sometimes terrifying, but...I think I'm getting more used to it. There are definitely aspects I enjoy like...during a show. I can feel when the crowd is moved; when they're completely with me. It's great. Makes me want to play in less restrictive venues more often, though."

A little of column a, a little of column b. Definitely not meant to be hurtful, though. Not at the moment. Just a lazy sort of salute.

"Hmf. That's blackmail, y'know. Prick." Or so he grouses, as he digs out his lighter and offers up the requested flame for his friend. He's getting a hit or two off of that, right?

"That's gotta be nice. And I don't see why you couldn't. Shit, tell 'em who you are, you'll have every day of the week booked before you can finish saying 'Stardust.'" Yeah, he knows it's not that easy. But he's trying to be encouraging, here.

Zigs grins around the end of the joint as he breathes in long and deep. It's been too long and, to his surprise, the weed is good. Stronger than most he's ever had. A realm of technological advance he hadn't even considered. He offers Pink a drag as he lets out smoke in a long, contented sigh.

"Mmm.... Oh, that's nice..." Coming to earth taught Ziggy a lot of new and marvelous vices and this was, quite easily, among his favourites. It calms him, puts a wonderful new slant on his senses, and... often makes him a bit randy, but he'll try to keep that to himself.

"Hmm...Might be that easy --though I doubt it-- but there's still the issue of being seen as some sort of novelty act. The idea makes me uncomfortable, to say the least.... You know, I've thought of changing my name to get away from that..."
He laughs shaking his head, not sure it will do him any good even if he does.

"Innit?" A grin, and a nod of thanks as he takes the joint, and his own deep drag. The future! It's got its perks.

He listens to his friend's concerns, breath held, then lets the smoke out in neat rings, offering the spliff back. Humming quietly as the haze starts to creep over him.

"Mm. Why it's off on your comm, right? Freecloud." He hadn't missed the reference, there. Funny, that. "Not 'less you completely change everything. Bloke's an icon. I say, roll with it. It's a leg up. Use it, then go off on your own once you've got the platform."

It's surprising that marijuana remains illegal but has still seen such a spike in quality. Hardly seems there's a point in maintaining laws against.

Ziggy smiles and laughs softly at Pink's skills at breathing rings of smoke. He's never quite managed it and appreciates the talent.

"Mm...Yeah. Freecloud's where I'm from --more specifically-- so it seemed a good surname." It was a song as well, yes, and a meaningful one for Ziggy. His own version differed slightly from Bowie's, but the core remained the same. It was one he was very surprised to find even had a parallel in this world.
He nods at Pink's advice, having largely come to the same conclusions already but not wanting to accept it. Not wanting to have to make this strange, slow path at starting over.
"I suppose you've a point. I hate --hate-- starting over like this. I hate working from nothing. Losing songs that mean everything to me... But it's the best way."

He'd started smoking when he was still in short trousers, and taught himself to blow rings after seeing one of the bigger boys do it, and his cadre fail to imitate. At the time, he'd thought it would impress the boy, earn his friendship or respect. It hadn't. But he'd gotten a good trick and a good life lesson out of it, even so.

"Where you're from, or where you're from?" Because he's incapable of not being nosy about some things, apparently.

"Mmm. Yeah. But there's gonna be a lot that's different, too. It's a chance to experiment. Do shit you didn't, before. Avoid the bits you didn't know how to, the first time 'round." Something, his tone of voice suggests, he doesn't exactly mind.

Drug experimentation in Ziggy's youth was purely adjusting dosages of prescribed medicine and, briefly, trying herbal 'medicines' that were popular among the rebel set. He didn't get to try marijuana --or even tobacco-- until he began into the music scene on earth. He took to it very quickly, though. Tonight he'll dream of strange futures, no doubt, but he's enjoying the effects for the time being.

"Where I'm from, originally, yeah. It's not technically a real place anymore, I suppose. It was a rebel settlement --something between a tent city and a commune-- hidden away on dead farm land inside a mountain. It was strange and poor, but really nice. Everyone cared for everyone else."
Ziggy doesn't mind the curiosity much. Sometimes it's nice to be able to talk and think about these things without fear of giving anything away. That is the biggest thing he's going to do differently here. He won't hide. He won't keep himself a secret. If there are other aliens, then he'll be who he is and tell them all about his world and their suffering along with his messages of hope and love.

"I won't sleep with bandmates this go.... Only makes things complicated. I won't lie or disguise myself -- I've decided that now. And I'll be a bit better with contracts....or I bloody hope so, at least." He takes his turn with the joint, drawing in a couple long drags and passes it back over, holding the smoke in a moment before breathing out. He licks his lips a lot when he's high, it's unintentionally seductive, he just feels they're drier than they are and enjoys the feeling. He also talks very openly. If he can't touch or cuddle, he can at least be chatty with Pink.

"That where you were born, then?" If Ziggy's going to talk about his home, about his early life, Pink will sure as hell listen. "With the rebels?"

He accepts the joint readily. He can feel himself relaxing, his white-knuckle grip on his loneliness easing as the herb does its work. And maybe Ziggy can feel it too, a slow lessening of that dull distance, more clarity, volume, and softness to his emotional read. More midtone. The still reasonably focused interest in what Ziggy's saying. The quiet, soft contentment of just sitting and talking and sharing a good time. The little stomach-flutters when Ziggy licks his lips, that he ignores, suppresses, without a second's contemplation. And the worry, nipping at the edges and creeping in like frost, for his friend's safety.

"You're gonna be taking a risk. Doing that." He doesn't say it like it's speculation. He sounds certain. Hasn't it already happened once? "It's getting bad enough for imPorts."

"Mmm. Yeah. I was born there an' lived there with my brothers, our mum, and an extended family made up of peaceful anarchists living outside a society they didn't agree with. I was too young to understand most of it at the time... It was beautiful, though. Simple."
It was dead ground being dutifully worked and coaxed back to being viable, tiny huts and tents holding large families, and small meals made bearable by all being shared together over drink, stories, and near forgotten songs. It was an entirely different world from the cities below.

Ziggy can't help but smile at the way Pink seems to relax and feel --finally-- at some degree of ease. The little fluttering feelings he denies internally are flattering, just the same. Zigs lays back, sprawling a bit and lounging over the arm of the couch. However much of a dick Pink may be at times, talking with him and the time they spend alone is some of the most free and comfortable moments Ziggy's felt since even before arriving in the city. He values their friendship, however bizarre and flawed.

"There are always risks. Lying comes with the risk of being found out. People hate being lied to even more than they hate the unknown, and leaves me no opening to regain trust after. I can't hide that I'm an imPort. I share the face of a man who's well known world wide. That's always going to raise questions." He leans back, watching the smoke rise above their heads and looking a bit more solemn. This is something he's given a lot of thought to. "If they already know I'm different....if I'm already at risk... then to hide the full truth would....would just be cowardice. They should know there are other thinking, feeling beings on other planets who may come here --may need to-- but not out of malice. Out of a desperate need for help or asylum and a search for something similar enough to themselves to understand."

"Hmm. So, like a commune. Or a collective." Not something that had ever appealed to him, personally. Though he understood the idealogical appeal, the sort of people who started communes, it seemed to him, were very rarely the sorts of people who should be. Not that he was going to tell Ziggy any of that.

"Yeah. You're right." He is,and being more courageous about it than Pink would have wagered. It impresses Pink. That doesn't mean he's happy about it. The worry, in fact, is surprisingly strong, and tinged with uneasy guilt. The threat, in the bassist's mind, is not questionable, is not a risk to be gambled on. It's inevitable. In one way or another, this is going to get Ziggy hurt. And it may end up being partially his fault. He pulls his leg up close to his chest, gripping the scuffed toe of his boot. "I just don't wanna see you get hurt again," he confesses, eyes on the black leather. "It was bad enough, once. What's it gonna be, a second time?"

"Mm. Very much so. It was a bit of a primitive lifestyle, I suppose, but everyone had each other to lean on and we were all...very happy." There's a touch of sadness that lingers there. Solemn reflection and wistful daydreams rising up with the thick, fragrant smoke and dissipating as well. All things end, in time. Nothing can change the past once it's done.

Ziggy is touched deeply by Pink's concerns for him. It also, in this moment of chemically enhanced openness, bolsters his own fears over this decision. It's hard to resist getting closer, touching or hugging, pouring out his fears and worries and what it really takes him to stay so resolved. He can't go back on this. He can't. His world may no longer have hope of finding refuge on earth, but there may be others with the same needs. This world can not stay as afraid of all that's different from themselves.

"...I could get hurt again, yes..."
He rubs at the long, pink scar down the inside of his forearm. He shivers, in spite of himself, not wanting to feed into both of their fears but uncomfortable with lying about this or deluding the both of them.
"But I'll be ready for it, now... And, if anything happens, I'll know there will be others who know what I am and know I've never meant anyone harm. I'd rather that people know that, than live a long healthy life of lies and anonymity."

He takes his fingers from the scar, realizing they were still lingering and pulled his arms around himself tight for a moment, working to pull inside of himself and push down the fear and painful memories. He has to lock out Pink's feelings if he's going to get control of his own. He believes in people, though --in the potential within humanity-- and he has that to give him hope.
"I'm sorry, mate...could we talk about something else? Anything."

Pink wants to tell him how brave he is -- and how bloody stupid. How worried he is, and how much more respect he has to Ziggy now, after just these past few minutes. And maybe, he might have even actually said those things. But Ziggy is asking him to change the subject.

And there's a good reason. They'll work themselves into a nice little paranoia spiral, if they don't cut this short. It's just. Difficult. At least Ziggy also realises it. He huffs softly, and offers up the spliff.

"Yeah. Of course. Here?"

Something else. What? There was always the fallback conversational topic... "You been working on anything new?"

It would be good to hear some of those things, and might be alright to share some of them, still. Ziggy just can't swallow down any more of Pink's anxiety and negativity on the subject. He can't push any more of it away right now. He needs at least a break to regain composure and keep himself together.

He takes the joint gladly and takes another long drag. Something to mellow the emotions within, even at the risk of increasing that paranoia flowing in the room.

"I've been trying. I have a few things I'm working on.. A lot of words but less music. So many tunes and melodies I try are...they've already been recorded. I think I need to put a band together. Outside influence, you know? ... Or move to a new style entirely."

"I know that feeling. God." He huffs, sympathetic to Ziggy's plight. Though he dealt with the appropriation of lyrics rather poorly as well -- hearing a bastard you don't even know, talking about his-your father's death, is an unpleasantly jarring experience, to say the least. "Neither of 'em are bad ideas. Band's gonna be trickier... but, y'know, it always is."

He shifts, sitting up and stretching his long legs. Getting out of that little ball may help him feel better. Physically, if nothing else. Ow. "Ah. There's so many new genres. I've been looking at some of the industrial stuff..."

Edited 2012-04-19 13:34 (UTC)

So let me in from the cold

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