[Is that a challenge? Monty sets down his own guitar.]
If you'll wait a moment, please.
[He steps out of his bedroom to the common area and sees a guitar sitting there, like the one Charlie had. Exactly like Charlie's guitar, in fact. Perhaps she left it here. Who can say? It's a standard guitar, though, and Monty heads back into the bedroom.
[Monty has already seen more by way of expression of emotion -- even if that mostly comes from expression of desire -- than most people do, but the look of longing that crosses Sol's face is easy to spot.
He reaches out, takes the instrument and holds it to himself, running his fingers over the strings as he starts to check the tuning.]
[Now the man has him confused. He seems so unmoved by what Monty thought was a very good performance... but he's practically reverent once he has a more familiar instrument in-hand?]
Would you like to play something for me in turn, sir?
[Sol doesn't know that he'd consider it playing for Monty, but with the instrument in his hands it seems impossible not to play it, at least once he has it tuned.
He might be a little rusty, but he's also been playing on and off for eighty years, so when he plays it's not as rough as it could have been.]
Everybody's looking for something... [It's only muttered, the words coming into his head as he listens to Sol play. Monty doesn't interrupt or join in, though. He'd really wanted to let the man show what he could with the thing. They certainly do have very different playing styles and general tastes. But that doesn't mean Monty particularly dislikes Sol's musical selection. It's just something to get used to. A bit like the music that he hears Mari hum and sing on occasion.]
[Sol shrugged. Too long, certainly, but not in the context of his life. But it was good to have the guitar in his hands, good enough to make him want to start another song as soon as he finished the first.]
I beg your pardon, sir. I'm unfamiliar with a numerical system that includes 'Tch.'
[He imitates Sol almost perfectly, even going so far as to mimic the other man's typical posture. It's probably horribly rude, but the man is being difficult and really. Is he embarrassed?]
[Monty cocks his head, expression growing ever more intrigued.]
Someone... made you like this? Or... your own research?
[It's a little difficult picturing Sol as an academic, but he's heard of stranger things, and he knows the man is intelligent, in spite of his looks and gruff demeanor.]
[God, is he being serious? That look seems to imply that Monty's hit it right, though that would be absolutely ridiculous. The gentleman's blush deepens.]
Would you like something to drink, sir?
[It's a complete non sequitur, but Monty feels he needs a drink. He needs several drinks and then some.]
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If you'll wait a moment, please.
[He steps out of his bedroom to the common area and sees a guitar sitting there, like the one Charlie had. Exactly like Charlie's guitar, in fact. Perhaps she left it here. Who can say? It's a standard guitar, though, and Monty heads back into the bedroom.
Silently, he holds out the thing to Sol.]
Will that suffice, sir?
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[Monty has already seen more by way of expression of emotion -- even if that mostly comes from expression of desire -- than most people do, but the look of longing that crosses Sol's face is easy to spot.
He reaches out, takes the instrument and holds it to himself, running his fingers over the strings as he starts to check the tuning.]
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Would you like to play something for me in turn, sir?
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[Sol doesn't know that he'd consider it playing for Monty, but with the instrument in his hands it seems impossible not to play it, at least once he has it tuned.
He might be a little rusty, but he's also been playing on and off for eighty years, so when he plays it's not as rough as it could have been.]
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How long has it been since you played?
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Years slip away to an old man like me.
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And how old is that, sir?
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Tch.
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I beg your pardon, sir. I'm unfamiliar with a numerical system that includes 'Tch.'
[He imitates Sol almost perfectly, even going so far as to mimic the other man's typical posture. It's probably horribly rude, but the man is being difficult and really. Is he embarrassed?]
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Over a hundred.
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You're not human.
[It's more of a statement than a question.]
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Instead he just shrugged.]
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What are you, then? A fire spirit?
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Science experiment.
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Someone... made you like this? Or... your own research?
[It's a little difficult picturing Sol as an academic, but he's heard of stranger things, and he knows the man is intelligent, in spite of his looks and gruff demeanor.]
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That's enough.
[Monty isn't off with either guess, but that's not his business.]
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My apologies, sir. I'd just like to know more about you.
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Y'don't need ta.
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Why not? You're an interesting person and you've been with our group an age. I hardly know anything about you still.
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[That'll probably shut him up.]
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That... that is wholly unrelated to your character and history, sir!
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[Just a raised eyebrow.]
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[Monty works himself into a flustered quiet for a moment.]
I'm not sure what that would have to do with anything!
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[Okay, totally not his research, but he's going to stick with the smirk.]
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Would you like something to drink, sir?
[It's a complete non sequitur, but Monty feels he needs a drink. He needs several drinks and then some.]
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