The Quietest Play Loudest (Molly)

[Zayne O'Reilly]

Zayne stared across his room at a case by his bookshelf. It wasn't large, but it held many memories for Zayne. As he was growing up, he had been given a trumpet by his father. The shiny brass parts gleamed then, but now showed signs of wear. Zayne hadn't much cared for playing the instrument, but he made sure to keep it in good condition. He could play it rather well, though he never really practiced. Zayne gave a small "hmm" and stood up. Maybe it would do him good to play it more, and where better to start than the Creig marching band?

Zayne pulled on his coat, the familiar rustle of the black fabric around his legs helped calm him a bit. He bent down and picked up the case. The familiar weight and feel of it made him feel nostalgic. With a flick of his finger, he turned the lights in the house off and began his journey.

The walk to the directory of the Creig marching band wasn't a very long one, but it was certainly peaceful. The crisp morning air and the sound of songbirds in the air was relaxing. The slight swing of the case as Zayne walked helped to drive him on to his destination.

It took a tiny bit of navigating to reach the door to the band room. With a little knock, Zayne turned the door handle and entered the room. He wasn't exactly expecting a giant concert hall, but he had to admit that it made sense. He was definitely expecting a practice room, full of chairs and band equipment. A large stage greeted him, along with hundreds of seats. He ran his hand nervously through his hair and continued on to a very obvious door. A large star decorated the door, under it Molly McCafferty was written in pretty letters. Zayne was about to knock when he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Without a word, Zayne opened the door, hoping Ms McCafferty would be in her room.

[Molly McCafferty]

"...Hunt the hare and turn her down the rocky road
And all the way to Dublin, whaaaaack-foooool-laaaaaa-deeeeee-daaaaaaaa~" As the song came to a close, Molly unplugged her electric banjo(!?), and set the awesome instrument down, before putting it away neatly in its case. It was peaceful in her office, stashed away behind the big stage and its huge Crieg-green curtains of awesomeness. Perfect place for some practice before her meeting today, with the noob. New guy, he was, apparently; he'd called in earlier, one Zayne O'Reilly. Wanted to join the marching band, as a trumpet player. Funny how so many people wanted to play guitars and drums and stuff. No love for the brass section! In fact, she had to kick one of the harpists out of his position, after finding out he played trombone, but just preferred harp. THIS WAS A MILITARY MARCHING BAND. AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR PREFERENCE!

Though she preferred to greet people in her usual way, so as she heard rappings on the door (not rapping like Linkin Park, or like Christmas present wrappings, but rapping, like rapping your fist on a door. Sounded fanceh.) , she quickly took cover behind the door, leaving it cracked just as he came in. She heard footsteps but he wasn't saying anything. Soon enough, after the spectacular room had finished AMAZING HIM, he stumbled onto her private "office," as some called it. In reality, it was a chill room; about six beanbag chairs lounged around, a long outlet bar, for her amps, as well as a massive sound system, with an assortment of instruments lying around, her small recording studio to one side, and an old record player and an eight-track, with plenty of records and tapes for them. For while CDs were nice, nothing beat scratchy vinyl and that warm fuzzy feeling of an eight-track tape. And of course, in another corner of the room, she kept her minibar and a mini-fridge, for those late nights, hard at work with pen and sheet music.

As she smiled to herself, proud of her little nook, she heard him approach the room, and she straightened her woman-kilt and grinned. As he entered the room, she waited until the precise moment of striking, when he was in enough for a good leap. He soon had stepped to just that distance from the door, in quest of her, and she sprang, like a panther, onto his back with a squee, sending him hurtling to the ground, as she sat casually on his back, laughing. "Dia dhuit, me boyo~ M'name's Molly McCafferty, at yer service!~ I oughta stand up, though, fer ya ta get yerself up, heehee~" Doing so, and assisting him in standing, she smiled cheerily at him. "An' I'll be assuming yer Zayne O'reilly, then?~" Don't cry, don't raise your eye~ It's only teenage wasteland~

[Zayne O'Reilly]

For a moment there, Zayne was certain that he was in the wrong place. This couldn't possibly be an office. It was too homey looking. The beanbags around begged Zayne to take a seat, looking all fluffy and comfortable. A minifridge and minibar suggested that she stayed there often. Zayne got the impression from the many amps that Ms McCafferty played at least one electric something.

Zayne took one step into the room. His hand still held up from where he had knocked. Before he had time to even comprehend what the hell was happening, he was attacked by a flying monster of doom! With a very manly squeal of pure terror, Zayne fell to the floor. He then commenced to swimming across the floor with (VERY MANLY) arm flails. Something was crushing him! This was it, he was going to die in Molly McCafferty's office. Surrounded by fluffy beanbags. Hopefully some random band member would need something and notice him by the end of the week.

The weight then laughed at him. So it was a girl? Zayne stopped flailing, realizing what a foolish act that had been. Molly McCafferty. Zayne grumbled under his breath. Yeah, he'd certainly be remembering that name! He stood up (in a very manly way after just being on the floor) with some help. He then narrowed his eyes to his standard glare and waited for her to finish. With a slight nod and a tiny grunt of confirmation, he bent down and picked up the trumpet case he had dropped when Molly attacked him.

[Molly McCafferty]

MAN-SQUEEEEEEEEE~ Molly laughed as she tackled him into the huge bear-hug, hearing him let out a scream that nobody outside the room had to know about. It did prove he was a soprano, though, snrk. When he SQUEALED LIKE A LITTLE GIRL, that is. But, much as it would be funny to watch him squirm some more, she stood up, still wondering how exactly he'd been unable to just throw her off his back. Psh. Wasn't like she weighed that much! Helping him up, on assumption he was probably too weak to get up by himself, if he couldn't stand up with a little over a hundred pounds on his back. Wiiiiimpyyyyy~ Getting a better look at him, she was a bit amused; his hair was as red as hers!~ And he seemed kinda mad. Baaaaw. All she did was scare him a little bit! Captain Glarey-Glare could't take a joke, it seemed... But he seemed less mad after she asked him who he was. With a nod and a little grunt, he picked up his trumpet case. "Yer a talk'tive one, aren'tcha?~ Haven't said a single thing! Hope yer not still riled up about me tacklin' ya~ I sowwy." Flashing him a genuine smile of sowwy, she glanced at the trumpet, nodding in its direction, with a grin now on her face. "Well dun'tcha just stand there, laddie, play me somethin'!~"

[Zayne O'Reilly]

Zayne glared at the girl. He wasn't angry. Well, not entirely anyways. Though it did always come across as being a mister grumpy wumpy pants. The crazy psycho woman had jumped on his back, now there really wasn't a need for that. What was her problem? Okay, right, whatever. Zayne turned back to his trumpet case. He smiled nostalgically at the brass, it wasn't shiny and new like it once had been but the discoloration of the brass told many stories.

Zayne turned back around, trumpet in hand as he fitted the mouthpiece in. "Yer a talk'tive one, aren'tcha?~ Haven't said a single thing! Hope yer not still riled up about me tacklin' ya~ I sowwy." That was most definitely sarcasm. Zayne just nodded with a raised brow as he pressed the valves down on his trumpet, getting ready to play something.

"Well dun'tcha just stand there, laddie, play me somethin'!~" Well how impatient! Zayne huffed lightly and drummed his fingers so the valves went down in a little wavey like way. One corner of his mouth pulled up slightly in a smile. He pressed his lips to the mouthpiece and so he began. A simple tune really, something to get the trumpet warm. He then paused for a moment and played once more, yet another simple tune but more refined. He finished with a long, high note and lowered the trumpet. He still didn't say anything, though he did wish for sheet music. If he had notes and rhythms on paper then it would be a lot easier to show his worth.

[Csilla Angelis]

{BUMP}

[Molly McCafferty]

She kinda wanted to giggle every time he glared, but if she did, he'd start to wonder if she was huffing laughing gas every few minutes. Instead she tried ther best not to crack a grin each time, until he actually followed suit, STILL NOT SPEAKING, to make sound come out of his face. He did such, in the form of playing his trumpet, and Molly listened, as he first warmed up. It sounded like FARTS. But then again, most warming up on brass instruments did sound kinda fartish, which was always amusing. Especiallytubas,amg. But he then began to play a pretty little ditty, as he showed off just a little bit on his trumpet. She could appreciate that. And it was a nice tune! Smiling, she nodded as he came to a close, and she quickly stepped over the a messy file cabinet in the corner of the room, rummaged around for a minute, and returned with a piece of paper; one of her favorite pieces, an orchestral arrangement of "Stairway to Heaven," for the trumpet. Reaching for her instrument case, she withdrew her ever-famous Mollytar- a double-necked being, one half electric 12-string, the other half a nice hi-tech keytar. Putting the strap around her shoulders, she nodded to Zayne as she adjusted the guitar, so as to play the guitar part. "A one, a two, a one, two, three four~" With that, she came in with the guitar intro, allowing him to come in with his trumpet after a measure or so.

As time went by, seven minutes passed, and the song had come to its dramatic conclusion, and Molly set her instrument aside, laughing cheerfully. "Yer good, I'll give ya tha' one!~ So, tell meh, boyo, wha'sit tha' made ya take up yer instr'ment? An' why'dya wanna join up with tha' 'fficial ban' geeks o' Carraig?~"

[Zayne O'Reilly]

Zayne staraed at her all gloom and doom like as she brought out this guitar strappy keyboard thinggy ma bobber. "A one, a two, a one, two, three four~" Zayne tapped his foot as she counted off, mentally envisioning the measures as he studied the paper. It wasn't hard at all, in fact for him it was rather easy. The combination of his trumpet and her guitar made the song sound nice. It could have used more wind instruments but really now, a song played by two people could only sound so well. The conclusion was nothing short of wonderful though, as Zayne lifted his trumpet just a bit higher to bring the composition to a close.

"Yer good, I'll give ya tha' one!~ So, tell meh, boyo, wha'sit tha' made ya take up yer instr'ment? An' why'dya wanna join up with tha' 'fficial ban' geeks o' Carraig?~" Crap, now she was going to MAKE him talk? He hated speaking to people. But it was inevitable around this Molly girl. Something about her made him want to speak anyways though. With a deep sigh he placed the trumpet in his lap and slowly looked up from the sheet music. "It's my father's." Zayne let his gaze move to the trumpet and he ran a finger along the surface of the brass before looking back up at Molly. "I had to do something with the trumpet. I wanted to play more." She didn't need his life story and all that mess, but he was just awkwardly continuing on anyways. "I....I like music." He nodded shyly and went back to studying the notes on the page.

[Molly McCafferty]

Molly watched and observed Zayne as he tapped his foot. Such a proper musiciany thing to do! He clearly knew how to keep time, that was a good thing. It was so much effort getting the marching band's 1st harmonicist to actually tap his foot, that wily weasel, him. Always with the "Psh, timing is toats natural to my face! I know what I'm doing, foo'! D<" Was a pleasant surprise to see someone who actually bothered to tap his foot! Unlike Molly, that is; tapping your foot while playing the I-Don't-Even-Know-tar is lame, and only lamers do that. Psh, lame lamers, all of them! But nobody really cared about the tapping of feet anyways, because who WOULD care about such petty trivia?

As the pair began to play, Molly let herself slip away into a sort of a trance, focused entirely on her song, as she quite skillfully strummed the guitar, playing the keyboard half of her instrument every now and again when the guitar's part paused. It was a beautiful song anyways, Stairway was a true classic, and it sounded nice as the two played it, despite lacking enough people to truly do it any justice. As they came to a close, however, they did so with a well and true grand finale, or at the very least, as grand as two people in an empty office could make. But as Zayne lifted his trumpet, bringing the song to a splendid finish, she knew right then that he was a perfect man for the job. It didn't really take that much to convince the Crieg-Esparian that someone was worthy of joining the Crieg marching band, really it just took a bit of talent, and a bit of effort.

After they played, she complimented his skill, and asked him why he played what he played and wanted to join the band. Not really a part of the hiring process, so much as a genuine question of sheer curiosity. And after a pause between her asking and his answering, he finally spoke up in a quiet sort of voice, explaining that the trumpet was once his father's. A family heirloom was always a nice thing. In fact, Molly still had the little acoustic guitar her own father had given her when she was a wee lass. After another moment of hesitation (such a shy boy!), he spoke up again, noting that he just wanted to put the trumpet to use. Made sense, if he had the instrument, he should find an excuse to play the instrument, and why not get paid for it? Lastly, he noted his love for music, as he returned to staring at the sheet music. With a cheery smile, she patted him on the shoulder and grinned a wide grin. "Knew tha' I'd get'cha ta talk t'me, hahaha~ 'N I like music too, glad'yer gettin' on board." Beaming at him, her bright eyes glowed with genuine happiness. She really was excited he was joining up with the band.

Soon after that conversation though, she set aside her instrument and went over to the coat rack in the corner of the room, to retrieve a red leather jacket and a matching red fedora, complimented quite nicely with the pretty green peacock plume pinned to the hat. Skipping back over to Zayne, she gave a wink and a smile; "M'kay, m'boyo, now yer hired'n'all, y'wanna go fer some ice cream?~" Not that he could probably even remember BEING hired by her, as she technically didn't really do much yet. Formalities like interviews and telling someone whether or not you're finished with the act of hiring them or not are for squares. Molly was no square! Squares hate ice cream!

[Zayne O'Reilly]

Ah, that felt...good. To be filled with so much musicalness. Yeah, that's a word. Musicallness. It felt good to be filled with such happiness and such, that Zayne was really feeling it when they finished the eightish minute song. He could have kept going on and on forever really. That was just how he was when he got into the musical muse. Plus, who didn't love Stairway To Heaven anyways? It was a beautiful song, even when only two people were playing it. It would sound way way way cooler if they had the entire band play it. And yes, they should use it in their marching music. Because slow songs that last way too long and are not intended for marching? Yes. Kinda like marching Silent Night. A slow song in 3/4 time. Possible, kinda...

"Knew tha' I'd get'cha ta talk t'me, hahaha~ 'N I like music too, glad'yer gettin' on board." Zayne grimaced and glared at her. "I'm not talking to you because I want to. And I'd assume you like music, being band captain." Zayne snorted and looked away, people never did seem to think about the crap that spewed from their mouths.

"M'kay, m'boyo, now yer hired'n'all, y'wanna go fer some ice cream?~" What? Zayne never realized he had been hired but that was cool either way. She was cutting straight to the chase so that-....so that they could go out for ice cream? Zayne blinked and stared at her. "....What?" Zayne shook his head and packed up his trumpet before standing. Ice cream? For the love of- why ice cream? It wasn't like he could say no, but of all the things? They could have done band things and here she was asking his if he wanted- wait..was this a date? Zayne's face went bright red before he shook his head to clear his thoughts. "...Where can I put this while we're gone?"

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