2019-09-29 - Small Town Strange

Tomorrow night, 7 Oak Avenue will be full of people and commotion, brimming with the pleasant scents of whatever treats Corey whips up for their guests. Tonight, the place is eerily empty, the house's occupants either out for the evening or holed up in their preferred hiding places. Sparrow is among the latter and told Garrett as much when he'd texted. She's down in the basement, but the front door's unlocked. Should the front door be unlocked with the recent vandalism in the neighborhood and murders around town? It's certainly a policy that might require revisiting. Another night.

Right now, the lights are on downstairs, and there's music filtering up from the basement where Sparrow intermittently shouts along, half-distracted. It smells... neither especially pleasant nor entirely awful down here tonight. Maybe like someone tried to disinfect some recent sickness, a blend of lemon-fresh and acrid mess mellowed by age and lingering without any really good ventilation. Then there's the paint, the warm, sunshiny, orangish yellow shade that the (very very) redhead in shorts and tee and bare feet is slapping up onto the wall in wide, sloppy swaths, laying down the foundation for something big and bright. Let's hope some of this is done and dissipated by the next time the trio needs to rehearse.

There's a knock at the door, apparently a token warning as it's followed without pause by said door opening. Footsteps are followed by the sound of something heavy rolling across the floor upstairs. Soon the sound of heavy footsteps are heading down the stairs and Garrett's voice shouts out. "Watch out, amp comin' through!" The warning is probably necessary, given the sizeable speaker cabinet he's heaving down the stairs. The speaker gets set down heavily and promptly becomes a seat for Garrett. "How goes, Sparrow?" he asks with a slightly tired smile.

"Hey!" Sparrow calls back up, the fumbling of paint roller and smartphone resulting in a quieter environment... and a belated offer of, "You need--" Help with that? No, the amp's already down the stairs by the time she says anything. "Oh." She flashes a half-apologetic smile which soon sinks into a mirror of Garrett's, likewise a little bit tired. With a shrug, she admits, "It's been weird. Good? I dunno." A tiny furrow forms between her eyebrows, dissipating as she moves on to ask, "Wanna beer? Coke? Water? Think that's all I've got down here."

"I got it, thanks," Garrett answers needlessly, grinning at the bandmate. Her answer to his question gets a Look. "Good weird?" Garrett raises an inquisitive eyebrow, clearly curious, but otherwise doesn't pry. "Just water for now, thanks," he answers before looking at the paint. "What are we working on here, then?" he asks, pushing back to his feet.

"I dunno," Sparrow mumbles as she turns toward the barely stocked basement bar to dip behind it where the mini-fridge is hidden, the quiet suction of the sealed door opening preceding the sound of cans shifting. "Weird weird. And good good. And kinda just--" She shrugs as she comes up with a bottle of water, the fridge kicked closed after she's standing. "Tiring, ya know?" Again, her smile skews apologetic as she hands the bottle over, gesturing with her other arm to the half-painted wall. "Trying to brighten the place up. Felt gloomy." Those words should be airy, light, but there's a weird weight to them, too much honesty. "Not sure what it's gonna be yet, but I got my palette, at least." Her grin grows a little easier as she offers, "I can putcha to work. Know how to work a roller?"

Garrett frowns slightly, but gives a vaguely agreeing, understanding sort of nod. "Well, here's to more of the good than the weird, yeah?" He raises the offered water in a toast before cracking the lid open. "You don't mind if the big boy amp just sort of... takes up residence down here, do you? Seems silly to haul things back and forth if I don't have to, you know?" He explains the amp's presence before looking back to the paint. "You know, I think I can figure it out," he promises, moving towards the rollers. He's quiet for a few moments before clearing his throat. "Anything you, uh... want to talk about...?" he asks tentatively.

"Right?" Sparrow would toast if she had a drink of her own, but the water bottle she's been drinking from is down on the floor near the paint tin and her cell phone, half-empty and capped. While he goes for the roller, she makes for a box with brushes, plucking out a wide one with good, thick bristles. "Totally cool," she says of the amp. "Any time you wanna come by and play, you're welcome. Whether I'm here or not. If you catch Corey while I'm out, he'll insist on feeding you. Highly recommend leaning on that Good Host Button as much as you possibly can."

She sets to work on a clear patch of wall, starting to slather it in that bright honey color, when Garrett's question gives her pause. Briefly. Then the motions resume again in silence while she gives it some thought. "I dunno," comes first, half-mumbled from the usually confident redhead. "Just feels like the weird around here is getting weirder. Shared delusions and, like, all the violence. Easier to ignore when no one I know is getting caught up in any of it." With a sidelong glance at the bassist, she asks, "You hear anything about seals getting aggressive a couple weeks ago?"

Garrett takes a sip of his water as he listens, then id's again. At least in regards to the amp. "I've got the practice amp at home yet, but if I'm feeling loud... or hungry.... I'll keep that in mind," Garrett promises with a grin. That grin fades quick enough when the subject turns serious again, He says nothing at first, just taking up his roller and beginning to coat the wall. Eventually he breaks his silence, though. "Seals, like... balancing a ball on their nose, fish loving, flipper clapping seals? Not to anything besides, like, a fish or a penguin, no." Another pause, then it's Garrett's turn to glance sidelong at the drummer. "...what sort of shared delusions?" He seems a little like he doesn't really want to ask.

"Like elephant seals," Sparrow clarifies while she works, dipping and beating the brush before bringing it back to the wall. "Like delusions about giant elephant seals attacking people." With a shake of her head, she assures, unconvincingly, "It's nothing, but I'd be more comfortable with that nothing if I didn't catch it from multiple sources, but I figure maybe it's just some idea that's caught people's imagination in the worst of ways. Like... it's easier to think about bizarre seal attacks than to worry about the sudden spike in the local murder rate. Which isn't exactly a comforting thought." But, clearly, she's trying to work through it all rationally. Pausing, she turns an apologetic smile to Garrett. "Sorry. This is weird. Heavy. How're you doing? How's your friend?"

Garrett purses his lips as he listens, shaking his head slowly. "Man this town is bloody weird," he grumbles, putting more paint on his roller and continuing to work. "Attacked by giant elephant seals. I'm trying to decide if that's actually a better alternative to garden variety murder." He tries, and fails, to make his tone on the subject light. "So, what, bunch of people having the same recurring dreams? Still not clear on this shared delusion business." He manages an actual smile at the latter question, though. "She's stubborn, she'll be alright. Arm was pretty messed up, but..." he trails off with a little shrug.

"It's always been weird," Sparrow says of Gray Harbor, "but, like, not... this kinda weird." Not that she'd noticed, anyway, but how much does a kid really get to see while living a nice, comfortable life with their nice, normal parents. Of the friend reported to be doing alright, she appends, "She wasn't attacked by a possibly dreamt up giant elephant seal," with a quirk of a grin, clearly teasing, making light of the strange. But he asked a serious question, sort of, and she does endeavor to answer, even if it causes her to pause in her paint-laying again. "My brother's got a friend who was laid up in the hospital, said she was attacked by a seal, right? Doesn't know how she got there, doesn't know what happened. Swears there were other eye witnesses. Then I've got another friend who tells me something similar, says he got stitches or something from a rogue sea-life attack. I figure it's one fucked up party where someone spikes the punch, so to speak, and there's one big communal bad trip, but." She shrugs, frowning. "I dunno. If there really were wild seals attacking people, I'm sure it'd be on the news, right?"

"Yeah, she just had to deal with the wood chipper from hell," Garrett mumbles under his breath, shaking his head. He listens closely, his own painting becoming rather non-existent for a few moments. "...yeah, that does seem like it would make the news or social media or something," he agrees. Another long pause. "You ever hear of any old... I dunno, factories, I guess, out in the woods?"

Wood chipper? Sparrow's eyes go wide as she stares at that detail, maybe not entirely sure she believes the assurance that the friend's gonna be alright now that she knows what she was up against. She only notices that she's just standing there doing a whole lot of nothing when a drop of paint splatters on the top of her foot, stirring her to motion. Not back to painting, but instead toward cleaning the brush off, surrendering to the distraction of this strange conversation. "Not that I know of, but that's not really my thing. I've got a friend I can ask. Better with local lore than I am. But he's at work right now." It looks, for a second, like she might say something more, but she instead plops down on the floor and swipes at the paint on her foot, spreading the yellow further rather than actually cleaning it much.

Garrett continues to paint, slowly, at least until the roller is pretty well used up. Then he, too, gives up on being productive, setting the roller on the paint tin and settles on the floor next to Sparrow. "Nah, don't bother, I'll go dig through the library one of these days." He doesn't sound particularly hopeful about finding any answers. There's another long pause, Garrett idly watching the paint get smeared across Sparrow's foot. "You're local, right? Grew up here?" he eventually asks.

Sparrow rubs her fingers together once they're smeared with paint, too, the thin layer drying quickly, leaving her digits inconsistently tinted. "Yeah," she breathes quietly, definitely way lower energy than usual. Her smile's back, albeit slimmer, when she looks to Garrett. "Born and raised. Only really been away for any length of time once, right out of high school." Which couldn't have been that long ago. Two years ago maybe? Three at most? "I think that's when you really notice how weird home is. Like... I dunno. There's a lot of small town strange that isn't at all strange when you grow up in it, but when you're away from it and see what normal small town strange is like?" With a furrow of her forehead that foretells a return to seriousness, she wonders, "Can I get really weird on you? Since we're already, like, knee deep in it and I don't think I can make you just forget that I'm not a ray of fucking riots and sunshine all the time?"

"Hm. I've got no other small towns to compare to, really. Always been in bigger cities. This isn't normal for small towns?" Garrett feigns surprise, but the effort is a weak one. The permission-asking gets a faintly amused look and he tilts his head. "Were we not already knee deep in weird? Yeah, go ahead. Want a beer? I think I'm gonna switch to beer," he decides, pushing to his feet and walking towards the mini fridge to replace his water with something a bit stronger.

Sparrow snorts a quiet laugh as she leans back, planting her hands behind her. "Only on TV," she says of local small town normality, half-joking. There was definitely a time when that would've been an affectionate jest, entirely insincere, but there's too much truth to it now to really sell that levity. There's a, "Yeah, thanks," for the offer of a beer, the mini-fridge hosting a few different options all pulled from a single brewery's variety pack. She expresses no preferences. Instead, she wonders, "Have you been having any weird dreams since you moved in? Like... more vivid?" There's almost an 'or,' more very nearly added to that thought before she decides to cut it off there. That's enough for now.

Garrett gives a little snort that would have maybe been a laugh if the mood weren't so serious, coming back with a pair of dark bottles filled with equally dark beer, one of which is held out to Sparrow. "Like... probably more accurately described as nightmares, vivid?" He swallows a drink of his beer, then gives a small nod. "Ever since a little after the accident, yeah. Nothing, like, overtly violent, but.... just bloody /weird/ and unsettling, you know?" Garrett shivers a little. "I, ah, assume you have, too?"

Sparrow looks like she might take some minor issue with the word 'nightmare,' but she offers no objection, accepting her beer with a murmur of thanks instead. "This feels like a crossroads, ya know?" And it doesn't sound like an answer to the question actually asked. "A sorta turning point in our relationship where I gotta balance the desire for professional respect against, like... how much more comfortable it feels saying any of this to someone who seems both sane and not too heavily invested in my life yet." Is that something worth toasting? Evidently. She lifts her bottle and takes a swig, a pause to get her head together before picking her path. "I had this dream the other night that... my boyfriend was swallowed up by the floor. And he dreamed the same thing. The same exact thing. Except I was left pounding on the floor shouting after him, and he dreamed about falling into darkness." With a shake of her head, she mutters, "Shared delusion, right?" as if this were the same as the seal attacks, and takes another long pull from the dark beer.

"Shared delusion," Garrett echoes softly, shaking his head and taking a long pull from his beer. "Can I level with you, since we're doing Real Talk and all? The wood chipper.... may not be entirely factual," Garrett confesses. "We were hiking and, I dunno, maybe the heat just got to us and we passed out and both had... yeah, shared delusion, we'll go with that. But.... when we came to, she was messed up. Bad. It looked like, well.... she got caught in a wood chipper. It was...." He trails off and stares at the wall for a few long moments, taking another long drink from his now-half-empty beer. "...so, I promise I'm not crazy, but.... can you or him..... do anything weird? Like.... stuff normal people shouldn't be able to do?" he asks softly.

It's that part about how things were different when his friend woke up that seems to strike a chord with Sparrow, her shoulders sinking and her gaze following. One fingernail picks restlessly at the edge of the label of her beer bottle, doing little to actually remove it, but providing a quiet, percussive sound that she might find satisfying, especially when the conversation lulls into its odd periods of pensive silence. Without looking up, she nods, offering nothing but that wordless confirmation for a moment. An out-of-place scowl slowly forms as her attempt to demonstrate falls flat. Instead, she lifts her gaze to Garrett and mutters a quiet, "Sometimes. Started a couple years ago. Little things." Her lips work around a thought that doesn't want to come out, so she busies herself with her beer instead, falling quiet again.

"I watched my friend wave a hand and close her front door." Garrett says this quietly, matter-of-factly, and very much as if he was hoping for some sort of rebuttal to the idea of such a thing being possible. "I was able to make her see things. She could picture my guitar in her head, clear as day. And... after some experimenting...." He puts his beer down and holds his hand out, palm down, and holds a finger above it. He gives the back of his hand a little tap, and a sound like a static shock is impossible to miss, along with his hand twitching away from the finger. He doesn't really say much else, just glances back over to Sparrow with a half-frown pulling at his face.

Sparrow provides no protest, accepting the casual application of the Force as if it were entirely rational. Within her experience, to be sure. Especially when compares to the way she straightens at the sound, the twitching hand. "That's new." Her gaze flits a couple times between Garrett's hand and his eyes, lingering on the latter when she finally says, "I've seen people move stuff. I can... sometimes manage that too. A little. And I can fix things. And, I dunno. Other stuff that's a little difficult to articulate." Lifting her bottle up to tip the mouth to her temple, she adds, "And the headfuck stuff, yeah. Emotions. Like really feeling what someone else is feeling. But, mm. It's harder farther from home. Dreams are quieter. Everything's quieter. So, like, yeah. Definitely a very particular small town strange here. That just... seems to be getting way stranger lately." With a lift of her beer she offers a weak, playful, "Yay?"

"Look at you, full of all kinds of tricks," Garrett says with a vaguely impressed look that only takes a little bit of the edge off the pervading weird. A soft sigh, and he finishes his beer, setting the bottle down and staring at it for a minute. "Just when I'm starting to get a feel for the weird of this place," he mumbles. "Kelsey says the... shared delusions.... have something to do with something she called the Veil," he offers. "Mean anything to you?"

Sparrow looks like she might wanna object to that first statement, to deny claim over some of that, but her lips close after parting, no actual correction issued. Yeah, she's got a lot of weird, whether she likes it or not. That demands another swig. Which, in turn, calls for another, a last pull to empty the bottle which she sets down right beside his. "Sounds like fairy tale bullshit," she mutters, an indication of her own ignorance more than any critique of the term itself. "The veil between life and death. The veil between one world and the next. Pretty standard occult theme. Nonspecific, ya know? Though, I mean, if we posit that dreams happen somewhere else, like beyond the gates of bone and ivory?" She makes a thoughtful sound, like something's maybe starting to click.

Garrett blinks a few times at the explanation... musing... whatever it is Sparrow is doing, exactly, giving a little shrug at the end. "I'm as lost in all this as anyone. Just telling you what I've been told, you know? Gates of bone and ivory are a bit beyond what I've thought about so far, you know?" He sighs, looking over at Sparrow. "But if having someone to bounce ideas off helps, I'm all ears," he offers. A pause. "Should've asked earlier, but your boyfriend is alright, right?" concern suddenly in his voice.

"I mean," Sparrow's grin comes back pretty easily as Garrett repeats her words back at her, skewing to the left. Comfortable. "That's comic book nonsense. Based on some myth somewhere, I'm sure, but I read it in Sandman." Has she mentioned she's a nerd? She's a nerd. She's about to answer his offer when the question about her boyfriend cuts her short and kills her grin, her expression going weird enough that the, "Yeah," which comes out first isn't particularly convincing. "No wood chippers or wild seals or anything? But." She pushes a hand up through her hair, rubbing restlessly at the back of her head for a second. "He was down here when he woke up. I mean, maybe it was sleep walking, but." She pulls a face, having a hard time actually finishing the thought. But they're past sounding crazy, right? Right? "I fucking know he fell. I know it. I feel it. Straight down through the floor and into darkness." Her lips purse just before she mutters, "I don't think either of us are really alright."

"...he doesn't look like he lost a fight to a wood chipper, though, yeah? So, like, physically alright?" he clarifies. He gives his head a shake, then reaches for his beer before he remembers it's empty. "Well. This was a much heavier visit than I expected," he admits. "So, am I allowed to ask where the good part of your initial answer about how things are comes in?" He pauses. "Unless it's, uh, overly personal. Then pretend I didn't ask," he adds on with a chuckle.

"Physically alright." Sparrow can say that with confidence. Nevermind the mostly cleaned, concealed and faded scent of half-digested fried food that tells of some bodily distress down here. Surely, whatever that was has passed without any actual injury. She breathes a barely there laugh at the understatement about how this visit did not go as expected and asks, "Want another?" without yet getting up. Why bother if he's gonna decline, right? "I talked with Easton at Two If by Sea. Made an introduction in preparation for the open mic auditions. That went alright." Good thing number one. "And other than things getting kinda accidentally headfucky with the boyfriend, things are good there. Been doing a lot of painting lately. Like... actual art. Not just--" She gestures toward the partially painted walls, all yellow with no form or purpose yet beyond being a brightness to combat the blackness into which Alfie fell. "And there's movie night tomorrow. An adventure with my favorite make-out buddy--" Is that not the boyfriend? "--on the horizon. And I guess school's kinda going okay? So. Ignoring all the weirdness and some angst about life choices, ya know." Her smile's genuine despite the shrug. "Everything's pretty good." The way her brows go up expectantly, seems she might be turning that same inquiry back on him.

Garrett ponders the empty bottle for a moment, then gives his head a shake. "I'm good for now, thanks," he decides. The list of good that is rattled off helps brighten Garrett after the rather heavy discussion just before. "Well, sounds like aside from the obvious things are all coming up Sparrow!" He shoots the drummer a bright smile. "Did I ever ask what it is you go to school for?" he asks before noticing the expression inviting his own update on not-weird life. "Things are decent enough at my end. Work a lot. Date keeps falling through, but such is life. Aside from that, mostly uneventful. Let me k ow when something gets pinned down for the audition. And speaking of which, that playlist you put together is killer!" Momentary pause. "Any word on the prospective singer friend?"

Sparrow's shoulders lift and turn at that phrasing. She rather likes that. Everything's coming up Sparrow is almost certainly going to make it into her vernacular. The question about school, though, earns a snort and a half-embarrassed admission of, "Chemistry," all wide-eyed like she'd recited something genuinely weird. With the weight of strangeness lifting from the conversation, she leans back again, sinking onto palms braced against the floor as she frowns just a touch. "Nah. Pretty sure she's busy trying to, like, actually make it? Which means we're stuck with Jaime. Which isn't a bad thing. Or me. Which might be. Like, I can totally belt my heart out from the back if you guys are both feeling super-brave." Her brows arch in an expression that falls somewhere between challenge and offer, half dare and half invitation. "Figure we should pick out a few songs to polish up real nice so we have 'em handy to give the crowd whatever they're feeling. I'm kinda feeling Sucker or Lost and Found lately. Or Percussion Gun, but mostly cuz whoa drums." She interrupts her rambling to flash a giddy grin. "And, just in case you were fishing for unsolicited advice?" The winning grin says she knows he was. "I've had a good bit of success with half-planned abduction. Just, hey, hi, I'm outside. Hop in. We're going somewhere now."

"I'd offer to try and help out in vocals, but I can't for the life of me figure out how to play bass and sing at the same time, so good luck to you and Jaime," Garrett offers, giving a little shrug at the potential singer having fallen through. "Oh, there was a song on that Playlist that I was digging, some band I had never heard of... Sunflower Bean? Don't remember the song name, but I'd be all in favor of that making the 'maybe' list," he enthusiastically suggests. The advice gets a raised eyebrow. "If I was fishing for it, is it really unsolicited?" he counters. "I'll keep that possible plan in mind, though. Can't work worse than what has been," he adds with a laugh.

Sparrow's head starts bobbing to the beat of Come For Me the minute Garrett mentions the song, decidedly pleased with his pick. When she starts in on the second verse, crooning out, "I'm looking for some handsome destruction," it ... actually sounds good. Really good. Like maybe she is underselling her capability good. But then she isn't banging on her drums at the moment either. Aaaaand she might be selling it really damned well with the flirtatious look she turns toward Garrett, as much charm and competence. "Just take me to your car." She spills into giggles before she gets further, nodding an agreeable, "Yeah, I like that one. And the secret to doing that while playing?" Shoulders go up as she shakes her head. "Just don't think about it. Pretend no one's looking and you're just fucking around in your basement. Thinking makes everything weird. Everything."

"That's the one!" Garrett smiles wide, bobbing his head along with the impromptu performance, grinning and raising an eyebrow at the flirty look accomoanying the last line. "I mean, if you insist," he says with a greatly exaggerated sigh of false resignation, moving for just a moment as if to rise to his feet before settling back down to the floor, still grinning. "That was brilliant. You know that, yeah?" He seems genuinely impressed. "Yeah, I can try to work on it a bit more. 3 singers can't hurt anything. Otherwise if anyone else answers the bassist advert I can switch to backup guitar and vocals," he throws out as a possibility. "Or I'll just think less," he adds with a laugh.

Sparrow's weight shifts like she might follow, the particular arch of just one dark eyebrow issuing a direct challenge, daring Garrett to make good. Hard to tell just how serious she might be for how readily she leans into it. Her nose scrunches at the compliment, a touch of color rising unbidden to her cheeks. One might guess that, no, she doesn't know that as she breezes past the praise and lifts her chin his way. "Show me," she insists, gentle but direct. "No overthinking now either. Whatever's on your mind."

Garrett catches Sparrow's reaction to his joke(?) and pauses, eyes catching hers, questioning, somewhere between unsure and surprised, though he breaks eye contact when he notices her cheeks reddening a bit. They move back up to hers when she issues the 'request', though. "Show you what?" he asks, though it's blatantly obvious he's just playing dumb.

Sparrow makes no attempt whatsoever to hide her own scheming, smug grin playing at her lips like she just won the lottery and gets too figure out what to do with her winnings now. Eyebrows go up as her gaze goes down, checking Garrett out like she may well be considering what part she most wants to be shown. Not that she can hold that predatory inspection for long, grin softening to a sweeter smile when her eyes lift to meet his again. "Your singing, handsome. Gimme a reason to go deprive some other band of their bassist." With a little tilt toward him, she murmurs playfully, "Unless you had something else on your mind?"

Garrett throws his head back and laughs, shaking his head. "No, of course not. Singing is obviously what I meant," Garrett says, not having got any better at lying in the last five seconds. He clears his throat, takes a moment to consider, presumably choosing a song, and then he begins. "I am the one thing in life I can controoool. I am an original, I am inimitable. I am not falling behind or running late. I am not standing still I am lying in waaa-aiit..." Garrett trails off with a little grin, a little 'well?' tilt to his head as he looks back at Sparrow.

Sparrow smiles all the brighter for that laughter, even as she issues an, "Mmhmm," that suggests she's not entirely buying that. And then he sings. She can't help but giggle, downright delighted, eyes wide as saucers as she asks, "Did you just showtune at me?" as if Garrett had just revealed some heretofore hidden superpower. "That was fantastic. I mean, I might have to go kidnap someone now, and I hope you understand that it is entirely your fault."

Garrett laughs again. "I've been hitting the Hamilton pretty hard lately. Sue me," he responds, not looking at all ashamed. He quirks an eyebrow upwards at the mention of someone needing to possibly be kidnapped now. "Kidnap someone because of my singing? Seems like a waste of effort for me to go all the way back home just so I can be kidnapped, but if you insist..." He trails off, still grinning, managing, just barely, to keep his gaze on Sparrow's.

That's not what Sparrow meant. And she's pretty sure Garrett knows it. Her smile skews sideways, interrupted by teeth as they catch on her lower lip as she keeps her attention rather directly settled on him. "I mean," comes with a lazy lift of one shoulder as she maintains her slight lean, trying so hard to look nonchalant despite the blush rising her cheeks again. Someone might be just a touch flustered now that her flirtation's been answered so directly. "There's something to be said for the chase. Right? People say that?" She isn't looking to paint herself as one of those. "I mean. You are already here..." Brows arch as her gaze dips, just slightly, just briefly, a quick consideration of his grin before her eyes are on his again, searching.

Garrett's gaze dips down to Sparrow's cheeks, and for a moment seems perhaps a touch surprised to see her blushing. "You know, I've heard that myself, now you mention it. Until now, though, you've kind of struck me as the more direct sort." Garrett pauses again, still grinning, not really doing much better at the whole 'keeping it cool, calm, and collected' thing. "Unless I was wrong. There is a lot to be said for the whole knowing what you want thing, though, and making that known," he muses.

"If I knew what I wanted," Sparrow murmurs, mostly to herself, the incomplete thought punctuated with a breath of laughter. "I do know what I like though." Not that she elaborates, letting that thought hang out there for a moment while she watches Garrett, while she... well. Thinks. What was it she said earlier about thinking? Tsk. Her smile sinks a little, marking the transition between thought and action. Shifting her weight onto the hand closer to Garrett as the other lifts, she leans right into his personal space while watching him, looking for any indication that she's read the situation wrong on her way toward kissing him.

"Well that's a fine start. Knowing what one /wants/ can be all sorts of complicated," Garrett says with a grin that slips a bit as Sparrow begins to move towards him. Brows raise slightly as her intentions become impossible to misinterpret, but he doesn't withdraw, instead leaning forward enough to save her the last few inches of leaning in, shifting his own weight onto the arm nearer her, his free hand moving to rest lightly at her waist, not rushing the kiss, apparently quite happy to let Sparrow take the lead.

Sparrow's smile resurfaces at the contact, encouraging as it is, a brief broadening of her lips before they find his. Soft as that first contact is, it's not at all tentative, a happy little tease preceding a more purposeful push, lips parting in hopes of catching one of his. Here, this close, the basement doesn't smell quite so unpleasant, paint and disinfectant and bad dreams too distant to compete with the sweetness of her perfume: plum and lilac, leather and herbs, at once earthy and exciting. Her weight shifts as she starts to move, to draw herself closer still... only to pause in full when her phone suddenly blares out a cheerful ringtone. And though she clearly considers ignoring it, hovering right there against Garrett for a couple of seconds, she does start to withdraw, breathing a soft, "I should get that," against his skin.

Garrett's lips part beneath Sparrow's in open invitation, his hand tracing a light path up her side then back down, his own slightly sweet cologne mixing with hers to make the surrounding basement quite easy to ignore. His hand wraps around her back when she shifts closer... and then the phone is ringing, and Garrett's eyes are opening, and he offers a little grin. "And I shouldn't stop you," he responds, letting his hand slip free of her before he rises to his feet, perhaps just a touch reluctantly. "I'll try to make movie night," he says with a wave, making for the stairs, and in turn the door, to let Sparrow take her call.