(2019-01-25) Nevaeh Say Nevaeh
After finding Katya, Vyv drives Cash home.

It's that way Cash brightens that does it — makes the corners of Vyv's mouth turn upward of their own volition, and his head briefly duck in a rather uncharacteristic way. It's only for a heartbeat, his expression stranger in the fraction of a moment after it lifts again before it goes a little more impassive. A little more normal, maybe. Whatever that might have been isn't anything that requires letting go of the hand, though; he isn't inclined to do that until the necessity of coats and scarves and gloves means it can't be avoided, audience or no audience. He's quiet, though, as they head out of the bar and to Audrey. Thoughtful. And he studies Cash a moment while pulling the keys from his pocket, before there's another tiny smile, and he moves to unlock the passenger side door and open it reasonably gallantly.

Cash almost hesitates when Vyv's head ducks like that - Almost reaches out to take his jaw in his hand, but he stops himself. There are better places, better time. Coats and scarves and gloves are an unfortunate need in weather like this. So unfortunate, in fact, that Cash only bothers with the absolute bare minimum for the walk from the bar to car. His coat is thrown his shoulders, his scarf hangs loose around his neck, and his gloves get shoved into a pocket. When, however, Vyv moves to open his door, there's a grin that Cash can't help.
"I see I've found myself a gentleman." He teases, though it's low and almost purred, warm with affection and, most importantly, punctuated by Cash leaning over that very same door to steal a kiss. It is brief, but it is soft, almost tender, before Cash moves away to climb into the car. Audrey is quite as she was the last time Vyv saw her, though today there is a guitar case in her back seat.

"Maybe I just don't want you to forget who's driving," Vyv replies tartly, arching a brow, but it's hard not to read as teasing given how easily that kiss was stolen just before, or the fact that he does wait until Cash has settled in there and closes the door as well. One could argue that's less than strictly necessary. He has put his gloves on properly, so at least he's in a better position to be out in the cold a few extra moments… though he didn't fasten his coat, which might well be his own version of 'minimum', here. Regardless, it's only then that he moves around to the other side to let himself in, and to settle into the seat. A sidelong glance toward Cash, but then he's checking to make sure everything's as it should be car-wise, and turning her on. It's definitely a day that could use the heater going about as soon as possible. There's no obvious sign that he's looked at the back seat at all until he remarks, "I didn't know you had a guitar."

"Oh no, I quite remember that." Cash says on a laugh, though he's still smiling a little by the time Vyv gets into the car. Audrey is a well behaved lady, and doesn't fuss about starting even out in the cold - Nor does she fuss about the heat being turned on. These old heaters do jack all until the car gets moving though, and this leather interior is definitely not the toastiest thing.
"Hm? Oh…" Cash says, glancing into the back seat and then nodding. "Yeah, picked it up as a hobby in junior high. I'm not great, but it's been enough to entertain the guys in the desert, or amuse myself." He says, shrugging a little, "And before you ask - No, I don't say that about all of my hobbies - I really am shit at lacrosse."

"Did you play lacrosse to amuse yourself and entertain the guys in the desert too?" Vyv asks lightly, and buckles up. One gloved hand reaches over in front of a vent, which is apparently enough despite the leather for him to come to that conclusion about the heater. There's something almost reluctant about that decision, though, as he moves to put her in gear and get them moving. "Maybe you should play something on it to entertain me, then, later," he says, glancing over his shoulder as he pulls out of the parking spot. "…or lacrosse. That probably would be entertaining, actually."

"No." Cash says, laughing easily, "I left lacrosse behind at literally the first available opportunity. Which was well before the desert." Maybe it's the whiskey, maybe he's decided he trusts Vyv, but it seems he's actually perfectly content with him driving his car. Which isn't exactly common in the kind of guys that get so attached to their vehicles. Smiling over at Vyv, he gives another laugh that is more huffing breath than anything else, "I'll play you something later, if you like. I will not, however, play lacrosse ever again. A man has to have his limits."

"Shame." Vyv is at least a decent driver, and perhaps more importantly, takes care with the car. Though not so much that he doesn't rather look like he's enjoying it. It's probably been a while since he drove, given his lack of car here… maybe something he'll have to fix sooner or later. "I suppose I can make do with guitar, though. I won't even demand you do it in a lacrosse uniform." A small quirk at the corner of his mouth, and he admits, "They're not particularly good ones anyway. I'd probably have to insist you remove it immediately, and then where would we be?" He pulls out onto the main road, headed toward Cash's place, and adds, "A man does have to have his limits."

"Not only are those uniforms hideous," Cash says playfully, "I burned it when my last season was done. I hated that stupid game." That honesty is probably the whiskey. Then again, he's been pretty willing to be open with Vyv so far. "If you're inclined to have me play you something in a uniform, I have much better options." He's content to lean back and just let Vyv drive, not caring where they're going or how quickly. "You know, you're the first person I've let drive her." He admits after a few silent moments, "Haley and I used to fight about it all the time." Manages to laugh at that. That's progress, right? Also, he used a name! Holy shit, the woman is real.

Well, at least if she's a figment of the imagination, she's a named one? But even then it'd qualify as progress of a sort. The remark about the better options gets a tiny smile, and a quiet agreement that "You do," with a hint of a purr not terribly unlike Cash's earlier one, but the next part pushes that thought out of his head — or, all right, at least to somewhere in the back of it. The glance toward Cash is slightly too quick, and for all that he has a full repertoire of looks that say 'really?' they don't generally say it in quite that tone. The question's not usually genuine.
It's brief; he has a road to watch, and running into something would be embarrassing at best. Still, there's another sidelong look when it fits in, and an also rather more genuine than usual, "I'm honoured." There's still some teasing there, mind. He hasn't been bodysnatched. But he probably means it all the same. "She really wanted to drive her, mm? I mean, it's hard to entirely blame the woman…" They're on a straight stretch for a bit; Vyv takes advantage of that to let one hand leave the wheel and drift down to lightly touch Cash's leg.

If his twelve year marriage was a figment of his imagination, Cash has a whole lot more problems than he thought. Luckily, he's pretty sure that's not the case. Besides, who has time to think about that when he manages to get a look like that out of Vyv? He smiles just a little, and nods as a means of answer.
"She did," He says finally, taking that teasing in stride, "But Haley was an absolutely terrible driver. Totalled three cars in five years. I wouldn't allow it." That touch to his leg makes his smile a little warmer. There's a soft brush of fingertips over the back of Vyv's hand in answer, affectionate but not holding his hand hostage while he's driving.

To be fair, Vyv was reasonably sure she existed. And he's heard the name before, once: on the phone to Cash's CO, so it would have had to be quite a good imagination. The reasoning gets a soft snort, and he nods. "Quite right. I wouldn't either. Love may be blind but it needn't be stupid. Audrey clearly needed your protection." Whether he might generally be inclined to anthropomorphize a car or not, it seems to have taken for this one.
The brush of fingers adds a fraction to the slight curve of his lips, and that hand settles further against the leg, enough for a faint squeeze. "You haven't spoken much about it," he observes. It's said simply, as if it were a fact without particular connection to anything else, rather than a judgement or question; it's about as mild as indications of interest get, but it qualifies nonetheless. An invitation, maybe. Of the sort one could plausibly deny.

That earns a soft laugh and a shake of Cash's head. "Yeah, didn't stop Haley getting tremendously pissed about it, though." He says, though seems content to fall quiet then and just watch the world pass by as Vyv drives. That reverie is broken when Vyv makes his maybe-invitation, which at first only earns a shrug of one shoulder.
"Not really much to talk about, I guess." Cash says, "I was away a lot. Wasn't there when she needed me, got too attached to my career. It led to problems." That's an understatement, and an obvious one. "Is there something you'd like to know specifically?"

"Specifically? …no, not really," Vyv says, with a slight shrug. The hand stays where it is; he doesn't need it just yet. One of those sidelong glances, but his apparent attention is back on the road when he adds, "I'm just interested in you." A tiny tilt of his head, "…generally speaking. And it's a thing I don't know much about." He sounds willing to continue not knowing much about it for the moment. May or may not last, but for now he's not particularly inclined to push on that topic. "Where did Audrey come from? You can't have had her from new. Or not unless you're quite spectacularly preserved, I suppose."

Cash smiles, taking hold of that hand then and lifting it so he can press a kiss to Vyv's knuckles. It's brief, but sweet, and Vyv soon has access to his hand again in case he needs it. Nevertheless, he's content to let the previous topic die. His ex wife is hardly his favorite point of conversation. "Bought her at auction," Cash answers, "Was one of the last things I ever did with my father." God he's just a bag of depressing landmines, isn't he?

It gets another tiny smile, that kiss, Vyv's lips pressing fleetingly together, and he clearly decides he doesn't need that hand back quite yet. Soon he won't have much choice, if he's going to keep being careful — and given that he's still properly checking mirrors and such, he probably is — but for now, when he has hand access again, it drops back to that leg. This time it rests lightly curled, the heel of the hand set so that his fingertips can trace random little designs across their few inches of cloth.
"As mementos go," he says, "she's rather impressive." It's not nearly so flip as it could be, and he reclaims his hand a moment later even though there's still a little time before he really needs it. The same fingertips brush the edge of the steering wheel as he takes hold of it again. "How long have you had her, then?"

Those little shapes over his thigh make Cash smile. He's content here, though he does reach into his coat pocket to retrieve a cigarette. Offers one over to Vyv, too. Cracking his window just enough to encourage smoke outside, he leans his head back and thinks for a moment. "Oh, must have been ten years now, I guess." He says, though there's a little crinkle in his nose that says he hadn't really thought about it until just then. Opts to take a deep drag rather than elaborate immediately, too.

Vyv accepts. He generally does; Cash may have discovered by now that he does carry his own, but really, they're just not nearly as nice. "Ta," he says, though there's a tiny moment afterward where he may be working through the logistics of this when he's the one driving. Cracking his own window is easy enough, even if it does need to wait until after they turn that corner; stopping at a light at the next one gives some time to light it and take a drag as well. The smoke emerges with a soft sigh that sounds as though it may have been longer than his body would have preferred since the last one, and segues into one of those breath-laughs through his nose. "…there's another thing I keep swearing off and failing," he murmurs dryly, and leans a bit more against the seat at his back. "Been a bit, then. You've taken good care of her."

"I'll stop offering them, if it'll help." Cash says, though his voice is languid, his eyes closing for a moment as he relaxes there. You'd think he'd be much more stressed out about letting someone actually drive his car, but no. Seems he'd be content to have a nap, even. Not that he's going to, Vyv is much too interesting for that. "I like to think I do. What about you? Have any secret hobbies or barely veiled family baggage?" There's a chuckle, but it is an actual question.

"Please don't, I'll just end up smoking mine instead and they don't really compare." Vyv glances at the one in his hand. "Might even end up smoking more; stand-ins are never properly satisfying. It does remind me though that I intended to ask how to get some of that tobacco myself. Does one have to send off? A hundred dollars with a stamped, self-addressed envelope? I have thoughts." Which might suggest putting it into cigarettes isn't the only one. And also that he might not be immediately forthcoming on the others.
As far as the question, that gets a smirk, and a pause while he takes another drag. As bad habits go, he does at least do it rather elegantly. And having a cigarette to gesture with just suits him, somehow. "Mn. If I did have secret hobbies, and I were to tell you, they wouldn't be secret anymore," he points out. "I certainly couldn't have that. Particularly as I don't even know whether you have any secret hobbies yet. Guitar's not secret. Lacrosse isn't a hobby. Accidentally marrying people in Vegas is neither secret nor a hobby." A glance, brow arched. "I certainly hope." The upward turn at the side of his mouth is tiny, but still there.
"Family baggage…" That seems to actually require a moment of thought. "I've got two sisters, Vyolet and Vyktorya, older and younger respectively, and they're probably spelt about the way you're guessing. It's not particularly heavy baggage, but there you go. Vyolet's a lawyer." Not, Cash might notice if he's familiar with the terminology, a solicitor or a barrister or even an attorney, but a lawyer. "Vyktorya's studying to be a vet, but most people are perfectly happy with that." They're nearing Cash's neighbourhood, now, and Vyv has to turn again, taking that moment to pause. "We're not really… close, my family. We get on all right. Particularly when I'm far enough away that no one can just drop in or expect me to show up for this or that or the other thing." A vague gesture. "And eventually my grandmother will accept that this family is not going to continue down the male line. Or she'll die." He considers for a breath. "Or both, I suppose. But either way I almost never see her, so." Shrug. "That probably covers it. Not particularly scintillating, I'm afraid."

"I actually don't tell a lot of people that I play guitar. My squad knows, but that's about it." Cash says with laugh, and then pauses. "Though, I guess that is most of the people that I know at this point." A beat, "Fuck my social life is sad." Brushing that aside, he chuckles a little. "They really committed to a theme with those names, didn't they?" He says, obviously playful, "Though I don't really have stones to throw with a name like mine." He shifts a little to sit up more properly as they pull into the neighborhood, though he doesn't seem to be anticipating anything specific. Doesn't matter to him how long they drive for.
"Yeah, grandmothers are the worst that way." He says, "I'm really not looking forward to next Thanksgiving. I managed to skip the last one."

"They're called James and Anne, so really it's quite unfair." Vyv doesn't sound as put out about it as he might, though to be fair, he's had a lot of years to get over it. Plus, "At least I get to be properly spelt. If it was good enough for Oscar Wilde it's good enough for me. …barring jail, et cetera." A glance out the side window, checking out a house for some reason — maybe orienting himself properly, given he's never been the one driving himself here before. "They do tend to commit, once they make a decision. Not really ones for half-measures, my family." Unlike him, surely.
"How much social life do you want?" he asks, when he looks back to the road ahead; it requires a little more care now that it's properly residential. One needn't like children to be averse to spoiling the chrome with one. "Although I suppose 'enough to let you skip more holidays' sounds like it might have promise."

"Isn't it always, though? People will simple names think they're 'boring' and then they find names like 'Apple' and 'Nevaeh.'" Cash says on a laugh, adjusting a little to sit up more properly. There's a smirk at the comment about the lack of half measures, but Cash just lets that lie. There are some things that go without saying.
"Oh, I don't know," Cash says, shaking his head, "I'm something of an extrovert, but I haven't really had time for a proper social life for about ten years. Enough to skip family holidays certainly does sound appealing, though - Even if it means my mother will skin me alive." Very attached to such obligations, his good Southern family. There's a reputation to uphold, or something. Nevermind that being a divorcee had pretty much fucked his reputation in that tiny tobacco town anyway.
"Though, speaking of a social life…" Cash pauses, looking out the window and taking a nervous drag from his cigarette, "I got some orders today that are going to have me out of town for awhile." A beat, "Would you mind if I called you from time to time while that was the case?"

"If I ever name anything 'Nevaeh' please put me out of everyone's misery immediately," Vyv says, looking actually faintly ill at the idea. 'Apple' is apparently less offensive, though it's probably a matter of degree.
There's a faint smile at the (probable) exaggeration of Cash's mother skinning him alive, but whatever might might have thought to say at that point gets subtly derailed by the next addition. A flicker of another sideways look joins a slight parting of lips as though to say something — or perhaps for the cigarette, since a drag of his own is what actually follows, whether it might have been the original intention or not. The smoke's lightly directed toward the window before he replies, "Well. I wouldn't want you to run out of social life entirely." A small pause, and, "I suppose I've not had that much time for one the last several years either, really. Of course, I don't think I'm terribly much an extrovert in the first place." He gives a slight shrug. "…so where are you headed, then, and how long are they suggesting it might be for? Or would chatting about it be imperiling national security?" Uh huh, just fly casual.

"It's a promise." Cash says with a nod. Nevaeh is just a ridiculous name that has no business existing as far as he's concerned. Besides, this answer buys him time before he has to talk about where he's going. Not that it's the worst task he's ever been put to, but people get jumpy about this sort of thing - Especially the first time.
"Norway." He answers finally, "Can't really get more specific than that, I'm afraid. My CO claims it's only for a month, but timelines like that aren't generally reliable - So I'm not entirely sure?"

"Norway." Not an expected possibility. Helps to distract from the time period, anyway. A month ago they hadn't met yet. Which is an odd thought, and the oddness of it odd itself. After a heartbeat or two, though, the corner of Vyv's mouth quirks up slightly. "Mn. I forsee dark times ahead. And possibly lutefisk." A small pause. "When do you go, then?" The house is actually in sight, now, and he steals a quick glance at the other ones he has any reference for — the one he emerged from that first night, the ones Uma and Sevin did — as they near. Smokes again, too, an absent movement for all that it's a bit sooner after the last drag than it tends to be.

Norway isn't exactly in the short list when people think about interests of the United States military-industrial complex. It's definitely where Cash was off to, though. The surprise inspires a small huff of breath that borders a laugh, "I tried lutefisk the last time I was there, and I am never doing that again." A shiver punctuates the statement that makes it plain that this is a visceral memory.
"I fly out 0800 on the fifth of February." He answers then, "Assuming I don't get delayed and put on 'hurry up and wait' duty. Which they love to do."

Vyv is at least fairly sure Norway is not regularly exploding these days, so that's broadly a positive, right? Can't help amusement at that shiver, either. "…yes, that's about what I thought, too," he says mildly; the schedule gets a little more thought. "Well, at least you get a little notice, I suppose. As long as this shutdown thing doesn't mean they expect you to pay your own airfare." He turns into the driveway, stopping Audrey neatly near the center of it, and gives her steering wheel a light pat as he sets her into park. His hand pauses on the keys a beat after he turns them and the engine dies, eyes on the movement before he extracts them. It's Cash he studies for a breath, then, before leaning over to steal a quick, light kiss.

"Well if 'fly yourself there' counts as paying my own airfare, they sort of do?" Cash says on a laugh, shaking his head. Honestly, though, excuses to fly are good with him, even if he isn't paid for them. With any luck this shutdown nonsense won't last much longer anyway.
"Well done." He quips as Vyv parks, though he does legitimately seem to mean it at least a little. There's a pat given to Audrey's passenger door then, and Cash takes a moment to just breathe. He's definitely feeling the drinking, but its warm and pleasant, and he's in good company and the world is good and… Then he's being kissed. It's sudden, and makes him smile, chasing Vyv's retreating lips for something just a little bit longer.

Vyv makes Cash chase that kiss just enough to at least even up the necessary lean — maybe reverse it slightly, as long as he doesn't seem about to give up. But a little bit longer is granted, and maybe a little bit longer past that, before he draws away more definitely.
"I believe you were going to play me something," he remarks as he unfastens his seatbelt, "…something non-lacrosse, possibly in a non-lacrosse uniform, though I can't absolutely promise not to get distracted from the plan if you start taking things off. Might not be worth the risk." The tone's perfectly serious, but it does come with a sidelong glance as he opens his door, a hint more of a smile in it than otherwise shows on his face. And then he's up, closing his door behind him and taking a quick glance at the keys to see whether the one to the house seems to be on there as well.

Cash is just in that heady buzzed place where the whole world feels like it's made of warm honey, and so this lingering kiss is enough to make him purr. It's a low, quiet thing, deep in his chest, and it fades out only after Vyv has pulled away. Swallowing hard, Cash forces a deep breath and then laughs quietly. "I suppose I did. Though I'm not sure I would call that a risk." He says.
Nevertheless, he reaches into the back of car before climbing out, grabbing his guitar case. The house key is, in fact, on the same key ring. In fact, most of his keys seem to be on there. Stepping out into the winter night air, Cash shivers just a little. Southern boy still hasn't adjusted to the mountain cold. Maybe he never would. He is tipsy enough that he moves toward the door, only remembering he can't open it when he gets there, chuckles at himself, and steps aside to let Vyv unlock the door, or hand him his keys. Whichever.

Vyv's lone, more-lingering martini is not speaking up nearly so clearly — good for the sake of them getting this far, and possibly for the sake of successfully leaving the car, as well. It may or may not have any say in his going right ahead and unlocking the door himself, and pulling it open for Cash and his musical burden. He follows in, closes and locks the door; some people might consider that a little presumptuous, as though he were forgetting whose house it actually is. Maybe he's just driving it as well. He does at least return the keys, then, walking up quite close to Cash and tucking them into the pocket from which they were originally retrieved for him. It's close enough to give the impression there might be another kiss imminent, but the potential just lingers there rather than being fulfilled. "I'm not sure this properly counts as running off with Audrey. I might just have to try again later."

If the presumption bothers Cash at all, he doesn't let on single bit. It's pretty safe to assume, in fact, that he doesn't mind at all. Or notice, probably. The guitar is set on the couch the moment Cash gets in the door, and he pauses to shrug out of his coat, as well. There's a smile as Vyv slips the keys back into his pocket, and the lingering, unused potential of a kiss causes Cash to raise one brow. He says nothing, however. That is, of course, until he steps away to circle around the couch and takes a seat.
"You will have to. She doesn't much care for unkept promises." He says, chuckling softly as he pops open the clasps on the guitar case. It's a pretty instrument, warm, golden wood and a richly red pickguard. Taking the instrument out, he idly plucks a couple of strings, checking the tuning. The notes are quiet, but its a nice enough sound made from a well crafted instrument.

Vyv quirks a mirroring brow in answer, staying right where he is until Cash steps away. He manages to look both amused and slightly disappointed at the same time, if only fleetingly, and sheds his gloves and coat and scarf then, settling them in a neat group across the back of one of the dining chairs before he follows to the couch and settles down there.
It takes a moment to assess precisely how nearby he can reasonably sit without interfering with the guitar, but that's the spot he shifts into once he has. "Who does?" he asks, "Better not to make promises than fail to keep them. I shan't let her down. So I suppose you ought to keep an eye on those keys, really." A faint smile, and he leans comfortably against the cushions to be a properly attentive audience.

That quirked brow in response gets Cash to smirk just a little. Maybe he's inclined to tease. Or maybe he's just drunk. Who knows, really? "She never forgives a slight, that one." He says with a slight laugh, "So that's a good plan. And I wish you luck in managing to steal my keys from me." Seems like a pretty amusing game. Another couple flicks to strings lead him to adjusting the tune of a couple of them. He's comfortable enough with the instrument on his knee, but there are nerves that settle in when he actually starts to play. His hand shakes a little, but he's got this down to enough rote that it only effects the sound a little. It's a pretty little melody, short and sweet but easy to listen to. Maybe written by him, maybe something he picked up from a friend, but definitely not anything from the radio.

"Mm. I've been practicing my larceny. I hear everyone loves a rogue," Vyv murmurs. Game on!
He's sitting twisted a bit, the better to watch as Cash plays. And that's very much what he does: watch the way Cash's fingers settle into the chords and how they catch the strings, and his expression as he plays. For his own part, he looks quietly pleased with the performance, listening without verbal comment until the song's complete. "Thank you," he says then, managing to make it sound as though it might qualify as a sort of compliment. Surely there are millions of songs in the world he wouldn't recognize, but that doesn't stop him from asking, "Did you write that?"

Cash's expression ranges from nervous to relaxed to just a little bit sad through the course of his playing. Notably, he doesn't look up when he plays. Doesn't watch his hand either, though. He plays more or less on touch alone, though there seems to be something he's paying attention to, or thinking about, that doesn't involve making eye contact. Even when the little melody is over, he doesn't put the guitar down, just idly runs his fingertips along its strings as he looks up finally.
"Kind of?" He answers with a shrug of one shoulder. "It started out as this sort of nonsense set of chords I'd strum while my squad and I were sitting around killing time. They'd sometimes tell me to add stuff in. Or they'd just start talking and something they would say would add more somehow. It's just this easy to play thing that can be repeated without getting dull or driving anybody crazy. Kept my hands busy."

"I like it," Vyv says, and leans in to press a kiss to Cash's cheek, just in front of his ear. "I can imagine 'not driving anybody crazy' is rather important when everybody's armed and probably already somewhat on edge…" He glances at the guitar a moment, thoughtful himself. "What were you thinking about?" he asks suddenly, looking up again, head slightly tilted, "While you were playing?" It is not the sort of thing he often asks, thus far, so the impression of there being something past chords on Cash's mind must have been a strong one.

"Yeah, that's the hope, anyway. Didn't feel like getting shot because I kept playing Stairway to Heaven or something." Cash says with a small laugh and a smile. The guitar is set aside then and Cash pauses. "Oh," He blinks, brow furrowing slightly, "I don't know…" But it's not dismissal so much as he hadn't committed the thought to memory. Reaching back to the memory of the last few minutes, he shrugs one shoulder again. "Some of the people that added to that particular melody, I guess." He's quieter then, and though the inflection of his last sentence implies the thought is unfinished, he doesn't complete it.

Vyv has a small smile in return for the potential dangers of excessive Led Zeppelin covers, though it would be far less amusing an image if Cash hadn't managed not to get himself murdered for musical misdemeanours thus far.
The little tilt of the head remains as the thought's pulled back up, and Vyv's certainly bright enough to work out the most likely paths for the unspoken rest of the thought without particular effort. He doesn't know precisely what to do with the information, but that's a different thing altogether. "Mm," he says, with a slight nod. It feels awkward, which is something Vyv is neither accustomed to nor in favour of feeling. A tiny pause, a sidelong glance filling it, and he says, "Karaoke." Slightly longer pause, "As far as secret hobbies, I suppose. So if you tell anyone, Stairway-related homicides will be the least of your worries."

Cash just has a special skill for making it sad, really. Even without being explicit about it this time. Honestly, it's questionable if that's even actually better. He's not sure what to say, so he doesn't. Which is why it's a very good thing Vyv offers something else to think about that point. Cash blinks, having not been thinking about that line of conversation whatsoever. When he catches up though, he laughs a little, smiling brightly. "Wait, wait… But how do you keep a karaoke hobby a secret? Isn't that generally a thing at bars? Do you only sing in your house? 'Cause if that's it, I'm pretty sure that's just being a one man cover band." So many questions.

Other people's feelings are not really Vyv's specialist subject. Even Vyv's feelings are not entirely Vyv's specialist subject, when they move outside the usual parameters. A low-grade 'somewhere between embarrassed and defiant' is an easier one to work with, though. "I spent the year before I moved here in Japan," he says, "People drag one places and insist one drink things and sing." He gives a tiny, dismissive sort of shrug, then admits, "…I did do it once here. A bar I went to was having a karaoke night; eventually it was declared my turn. And I might have been slightly tipsy by then."

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