Matthew’s Highgate Coffee Open Mic Night

Date: 2025-10-20 20:10

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(Matthew’s Highgate Coffee Open Mic Night)

[Mon Oct 20 2025]

Highgate Coffee Main Cafe
Cozy and clean with a warm aura, this coffee shop very much has a neighborhood vibe to it. The walls are a comforting off–white shade while the floors are constructed from polished golden wood beams. There is a slight nautical aesthetic from the decor including a rope–lined shelf selling coffee accessories, a ripple pattern mosaic there, and the logo of the cafe itself: a lighthouse upon simply drawn waves, offering safe harbor. There is a fresh scent of coffee in the air, followed by murmured conversations.

A stairway leads to a rooftop garden above. To the north, a glimpse of a secondary lounge with an oceanview can be seen. To the south is a room available for groups and meetings alike. Most strikingly, through the windows to the west, behind the coffee bar a glimpse into the cultivated gardens outside calls for customers to stop and stay awhile in this Highgate haven.

It is night, about 65F(18C) degrees, and there are a few wispy white clouds in the sky. The mist is heaviest At Panama and Lake
There is a new moon.

Matthew says “wait, is there a stage in there? “

Matthew says “Oh! “

“I can’t fall from the bed I’ve made. It’s tragic.” Annabelle hums out, teetering onto the lounge and blearily glancing over to the fellows walking in. “I suppose so. It’s. Most proper.”

Chance drifts in toward the stage and grins at Landon, “Yeah, saw that you made it none the worse for wear.” Looking around, he finds his way toward the plush couches, sprawling comfortably into one. Then he looks over toward Annabelle and squints slightly. “G’bless you.”

“Alright, little hiccup but should be good to go,” Matthew reasons, looking over the growing group before his eyes settle onto Casey, “Do you wanna go first,” is wondered.

Casey blows a raspberry at Matthew. She looks less enthused but her words are more agreeable than her expression. “Yeah I’ll go first. Something easy yeah?”

“I considered wearing mine new dress, but Mademoiselle Helen tells to me that events like these are supposed to be casual.” Celestine replies evenly to Annabelle, speaking English in the face of her French. She collapses back into her seat, reaching up to remove her glasses… unveiling twin, ephemeral moons that serve to replace the absence of the sky’s luminous glow. “You should have come to the ball, Hannibal. It was r-o-m-a-n-t-i-c.”

Matthew holds his hands up in defense, “Hey, hey, if you want, I’ll go up first,” he says, “and uh…” he starts fishing in his pocket, “Well, I guess recite a poem I wrote couple months back.”

Landon blinks a little as he looks at Annabelle. He rubs the back of his head a little before he makes his way over to the couches to sit down on one himself. “We’ll see how I feel after a day of being social.” He says with a smile towards Chance as he settles down. “Already had my mind blown by being in a car thats more expensive than the house I used to live in.”

“Mademoiselle Calway danced with me. Or, well. She tried.” Celestine lowers a hand to lift her left leg… which seems to swing limply on a swivel.

slipping in, Teagan slides out of her coat and finds a couch-end (versus middle) to drape it over before sitting down. She holds a violin case neatly over her lap, looking a little anxious as she stares at a point on the floor.

“Yeah, go first. Then I’ll go second.” Casey agrees with Matthew, she looks mildly relieved. Then her attention is drawn to Celestine briefly at something she says. After the femme gravitates closer she ask, “You are friends with Helen?”

“I am blesssed.” Annabelle agrees with Chance sociably, choosing the path of mindless conformity amidst the hazy place in her mind. “You’re ehhh. Great.”

She looks back to Celestine, slowly retracting her arms into her own sphere of influence; Le space personal, or something. “I. Should have, yeaaah. Uhhhmm. I mean liiike. You go gurl. Sometimes I dress pretty like. Getting coffee. So.”

Teagan stops an employee as they go past, placing an order before she lapses back into sitting. Not reclining, just sitting.

Matthew nods and then reaches for one of the sliders, no liquid courage but a bit of food to shore him up as he makes for the stage.

Landon gives Matthew a thumbs up.

Chance chuckles a little over at Annabelle and says, “Sorry, for a moment there I thought you’d started speaking in tongues.” Turns out it was not, but he was distracted. Then to Landon he says, “The car is what blew your mind? Wait til you nearly get eaten by a minotaur,” with the faintest, most wry of smiles. He gives Matthew a whistle of encouragement as he turns his attention to the stage.

Ignoring Annabelle’s horrid cultural appropriation (how dare), those luminous silver eyes turn slowly to regard Casey. observing her from head to toe with eyes that practically sear into the soul. The white-hot intensity of her stare settles upon Casey’s shoulders like a thick, heavy weight, as Celestine methodically picks apart her appearance, the slightest of smiles swimming along the length of her lips. “…I am friends with Helen, oui. I do not believe I have met you. Mine name is Celestine.”

Casey sets her guitar case off to the side to open it and pull out her guitar in preparation of going next. She does all this while listening to Celestine reply to her then she gives a tip of her head and a friendly smile. “I’m Casey. I’d like to think I’ve gotten to know Helen pretty well lately and consider her a friend too.” The femme seems to notice Celestine giving her a longer than usual stare which makes her smile falter into awkwardness. “Are you going to do a performance of some kind?”

The tap of Gnod’s cane is muffled by the lounge’s carpet as Gnod enters at a casual pace, surveying the room for a moment before his gaze falls upon the stage. “Must be the right place.” he says, checking his phone as if he doesn’t quite trust his own judgement on the matter.

“Her name is Celestine.” Annabelle echoes like a lonely third rate gangster. “Remembuh it.”

Her head tanks to the side, blinking at Chance, trying wrap her noodle brain around the words that are five seconds too old for her to follow. “..Same.” She decides awkwardly.

Matthew is no stranger to stages, and he slips onto this one like he owns the light. A folded paper comes from his hand, creased and worn, something about it already personal. He glances down, draws a breath and begins, “This one is called Comet, if you please,” another pause, the showman’s instinct kicking in, before he adds with a grin, “Wrote it back when I first came to the city. I was supposed to be The Bachelor, but turns out I was already catching feelings for my girlfriend.” A soft chuckle follows, and admission wrapped in Montrose charm, and then he straightens the page, exhaling the last of his nerves before reading.

Landon blinks a few times at what Chance said. It seems to confuse him quite a bit. “Uh, right.” A hand moves onto the back of his head and he scratches at it awkwardly, the look on his face showing that he might be trying to figure out if he is missing a joke. Seeming to not be able to come up with anything he shrugs his shoulders somewhat. But the stage quickly draws his attention.

“Probably not.” Celestine reasons, glancing off towards the stage. “I play piano in the comforts of mine own home, but this is non a talent you carry around so openly. Besides, I… do not like singing in front of an audience.” Celestine shifts in her seat, though she doesn’t appear the slightest bit uncomfortable… the fingers of both hands spilling evenly over the clutch of her cane in a relaxed posture that seems content simply to watch. She turns back to admire Casey, that warm smile dawning upon her lips once more as though to imitate the rising sun. “Helen is supposed to be coming, tonight. I do not yet know what is keeping her.”

(repost for crowded) “Probably not.” Celestine reasons, glancing off towards the stage. “I play piano in the comforts of mine own home, but this is non a talent you carry around so openly. Besides, I… do not like singing in front of an audience.” Celestine shifts in her seat, though she doesn’t appear the slightest bit uncomfortable… the fingers of both hands spilling evenly over the clutch of her cane in a relaxed posture that seems content simply to watch. She turns back to admire Casey, that warm smile dawning upon her lips once more as though to imitate the rising sun. “Helen is supposed to be coming, tonight. I do not yet know what is keeping her.”

“I burn on borrowed time, the same old arc.”
“A spotlight start with edges charmed and stark.”
“They say I’m gold, though gold runs hot and hollow,”
“A stage of fire most bright, and just as shallow.”
Matthew lingers there, working through the words, they’re spoken clearly enough, but it’s obvious, this is personal, a level of transparency not often granted to the world, yet here he is, sharing these words.

“Then you appeared”
“”Not falling, no, but flashing,”
“A ribbon of defiance, wild and dashing,”
“Your tail a laugh, your course your own design,”
“a comet too proud to orbit something fine.”

Chance offers Landon a somewhat apologetic smile and lets it pass as a joke before his attention fully rests on Matthew’s introduction to his poem. His head tilts a little to one side and he focuses on the words as the Montrose begins to speak.

“I wont be here a while. I’m doing my song then probably calling it an early night.” Casey tells Celestine with a shrug of her bare narrow shoulders. She slips her guitar strap over those same shoulders and idly runs her hands over it to make sure its undamaged while she listens to the man on stage now.

Matthew can’t help but smirk at the crowd, an inside joke that yes, he’s calling himself fine. A Mega Stud in the chatrooms –self identified, of course.

“Yet still the fantasy played in my reckless glow,”
“What if just once you chose to dip in slow?”
“Linger, not as planet or fire-streaked bloom,”
“But stay, become a mirror. Be my moon.”

Matthew draws a breath, stealing out fresh nerves, continuing to read, though he dares not look at the crowd now.

“A moon to match my blaze with her silver grace,”
“and cool the heat, holding the empty space.”
“You’d circle me, be a calm and steady tether,”
“and we’d dance through void and silence, bound together.”

Matthew briefly looks up, a faint smile, a hint of pain in his eyes before they drop to the page.

“But who am I to pull you from your pace?”
“And claim your path, or beg you for your place?”
“A sun does not command, stars only invite”
“And comets were not made to trade their flight.”

A considering affect crosses Gnod’s features as Gnod listens to Matthew with a casual focus that seems immune to the murmurings about the coffee shop. At the close of the fifth stanza he gives a little nod of his head.

There is a quick text sent off, but Teagan tucks her phone away. She starts to cross her legs, but then seems to remember short skirt and instead smooths them down and places her hands atop her violin case to keep herself stilled. It only helps the fidgeting somewhat. There is a look toward the others, then back to the stage. She wears a mildly intrigued expression as Matthew continues his poem.

Casey just gives Celestine a gentle nod at her words. Her attention is mostly taken by the stage and the man on it giving his poem. She does keep tabs on new comers and Gnod does draw her eye for a longer than usual glance and a slight tug on her black lips into a frown but the moment passes and so does her gaze onto something else.

Following a soft murmur aside to Casey, the ephemeral light of Celestine’s stare turns up to the stage to bask Matthew in its cool, luminous glow. Wide and white, her owlish stare seems to track his lips, hanging onto every word… cane held before herself as though to ward off the pressure of some oncoming force. The slightest of smiles graces her lips at the line befitting ‘silver grace’, as though privately amused by something only she could discern. Dipping her head in silent affirmation.

Matthew finds his resolve, allowing his voice to steady as he speaks one final stanza.

“So blaze, you must, I’ll burn where I stand.”
“And smile upon your brilliance from this lonely span.”
“Better to watch you streak fierce through the sky,”
“then try to cage what may not be meant to remain nearby.”

Matthew stares down at the paper for a beat too long, his brow creasing, something unreadable flickering behind the practiced calm. It’s there and gone, whatever thought crossed him, before he folds the paper neatly, sliding it back into his pocket like it’s something worht keeping close. A quiet breath steadies him, and when his gaze lifts again, the Montrose smile is back in full efect, golden and easy. “And that,” he says with a little gesture toward the mic, “Was Comet, if you Please.” THe showman’s spark returns as he claps his hands togehter once, grin brightening. “THank you, everyone, for coming out to open mic night, we’ve got some killer talen tonight! Let’s get loud and welcome Casey next to the stage!”

Landon claps his hands together when Matthew seems to finish. He nods his head towards the man as well.

Chance listens as Matthew recites the poem, smile softening a little bit as he takes in the words, perhaps in some small understanding of the feelings that might be behind them. One arm drapes along the back of the couch, elbow bent so that he might rest his head against the curled fingers of his hand. He studies Matthew’s expression, the little shifts in it as he reads each verse. And when the poem is over, he lifts his hands and applauds heartily.

Matthew continues clapping right on off the stage and over to the couches where he goes and plants himself into an empty space of cushions.

Gnod nods to Matthew as he sits “Well done… Mathew was it? It was quite the experience.”

Letting her cane come to rest between her thighs, Celestine brings both hands together to gently smack the flats of her fingers against her palm, a featherlight clapping that seems to resonate throughout the room with muted, quiet pops. She shoots a wide and wicked grin towards Matthew, an encouraging smile that flashes pearly white teeth, delivering jubilation that seems… perhaps, a little out of place given the context of the poem.

Matthew offers Gnod a faint smile, nodding to confirm the name, but otherwise he’s silent, turning his attention towards the stage.

Landon looks over towards Matthew. “That was really nice.” He nods against towards them.

Casey gives Matthew a smile then trades places with him on the stage. The femme has her guitar hanging from her neck by a strap and her hands already on the strings by the time she’s up in front of the audience. With a few finger-picks she takes a moment to tune the guitar while she’s introducing herself. “Hi I’m Casey Morgan, if you don’t know me I’m SINNER on myhaven. I do events, all sorts of gigs and even private shows. I tend to do punk rock music but tonight we’ll be a little bit quieter.” Once she’s done her introduction she begins to pluck the strings of her guitar to make it sing one note at a time, first just to experiment then the notes come with a slower sort of sad melody to it. “This is something I wrote for a private gig, they asked for something sad. So I wrote it about my life”

Without the enhancement of a microphone or even an amplifier for her guitar, Casey is forced to rely on a sense of quiet in the room to be heard clearly. Thankfully her voice is crisp and easily quite loud in the higher octaves when she begins singing her first verse.

“Mama was tired, and daddy was gone”
“I learned to smile when I felt wrong”
“I’d dress up just to be seen”
“Hoping someone might look at me”

The finger picked notes ring out, rarely does she use a finger to still a string before it’s finished its vibrations on its own. The intense look on the femmes face shows focus as she tries to play without mistakes while simultaneously singing from the heart.

“At school I laughed, I played pretend”
“Chased their eyes, let my heart bend”
“Teacher said I was sweet and shy”
“But he lingered too long when he passed by”

After the line the emo-chick strums a chord, then another, picking up the loudness by moving on from finger-picking to full chords.

Teagan settles in with her chai once it is delivered to watch Casey and listen to her song. There is a nod to Matthew as he returns to the couches.

Upon hearing Casey announce the word ‘quieter’, Celestine practically seems drawn to the stage as though by a gravitational field… leaning forward to rest her chin upon the backs of her knuckles with a motion so guided by the head one might swear her to be a doll devoid of her stuffing. She glances off to one side, a slight, rosy flush blossoming upon her cheeks as something catches her attention. But Celestine seems otherwise fixated. Eager. Anticipatory. Quite literally balanced upon the edge of her seat.

Chance smiles when Casey takes the stage, recognizing her from previous performances, his curiosity piqued when she mentions something quieter, something sad, and he is quiet to take it in.

Without the enhancement of a microphone or even an amplifier for her guitar, Casey is forced to rely on a sense of quiet in the room to be heard clearly. Thankfully her voice is crisp and easily quite loud in the higher octaves when she begins singing her first verse.

“Mama was tired, and daddy was gone”
“I learned to smile when I felt wrong”
“I’d dress up just to be seen”
“Hoping someone might look at me”

The finger picked notes ring out, rarely does she use a finger to still a string before it’s finished its vibrations on its own. The intense look on the femmes face shows focus as she tries to play without mistakes while simultaneously singing from the heart.

“At school I laughed, I played pretend”
“Chased their eyes, let my heart bend”
“Teacher said I was sweet and shy”
“But he lingered too long when he passed by”

After the line the emo-chick strums a chord, then another, picking up the loudness by moving on from finger-picking to full chords.

“Teachers said I had a spark”
“I stayed after class till it got dark”
“I thought their eyes meant I was worth something”
“Worth more than the silence back at home hurt”

Casey continues on, raising her voice louder and higher pitched. Revealing a need for validation that she did not get at home according to her lyrics.

“It wasn’t just teachers too, those older school boys, they knew my name”
“They told their friends, I felt the shame”
“They would make promises of love, that I would be their girl”
“But the next day there was only disdain”

The femme details in song a early life of promiscuous behavior and the ‘backlash’ that brought her. She plants her hand over her strings to stop the sound of them, so only her voice remains,

“I briefly played for the football team.”

She pauses to let the absurdity of that sink in before she takes her hand off the strings to begin strumming again

“I never ran a touchdown, all my plays were on my knees.”
“I’d lift spirits in the locker room”
“I thought I would be popular, even the coach knew me.”

So often does the intensity of that white-hot stare seem drawn to motion. The spidery movements of Casey’s fingers across the strings, the expressions written across her face as starkly as the changing seasons… even the movement of her lips that form each individual word. Celestine’s attention is unsettling… especially when fixated as acutely as this. But there is an appreciation, here, that does not go unexpressed. Celestine seems to sway in synchronization with the pace of Casey’s song… both hands clutching her cane close to the breast.

Teagan remains still save for when she lifts her cup to take a drink of her chai. She is giving Casey her full attention, though her gaze seems more on the musician’s fretwork than anything else: admiration for the skill on display.

Chance listens to the lyrics of Casey’s song moreso than the actual playing of it, and his expression goes somber with the story that it tells, his gaze drifting from her to some point in the middle distance, just listening in silence.

Matthew lifts a hand, conveying a quiet order with the barista, though otherwise his attention is on Casey. He bobs his head in time with the song, closing his eyes as he listens to the lyrics.

Casey changes the tempo of her guitar to become slower and slower strums of low chords. Her voice drops, her features fall, the last verse is sung with sadness as she reveals nothing has really changed about her.

“Now years have passed, what has changed”
“This confidence is just a mask”
“I still give away pieces of me just to feel okay”

The guitar stops, the last line comes as a spoken verse as her eyes gaze out over the audience without the aid of the instrument.

“I’m still hoping someone might want to stay”

With that the song seems truly over and the femme drops one hand from the guitar entirely to let it hang to signal there is no intention to play another note of any kind.

Gnod lifts a hand from where it rests on his cane, the other from his jacket, both joining forces for a bit of coffee-shop appropriate applause.

“Thank you.” Casey says, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes after all that. She lifts a hand to wave, then she moves off to return to her guitar case and pack up.

Chance doesn’t move for a moment as the song draws to a close and then he lifts his hands in applause for Casey’s performance, though his expression still remains a little bit somber.

After a text is sent off, Teagan juggles her phone away and her chai (after another sip to lower the level further- no accidents!) into the crook of her arm to clap as well. And once Casey has settled, the redhead does drink down most of her chai to be able to open up her own case and start preparing the instrument within. Something that seems to occupy her for a good moment.

Landon claps his hands together for Casey as their song comes to an end.

Speechless, Celestine reaches down to pull her sleeve back to expose her wrist — flashing the brilliant violet sheen of amethyst gemstones coiled tightly around her arm. Hooking a finger underneath the thread binding them together, Celestine slowly slides them off. Over the palm of her hand, and past her fingers. Emotion seems to wash over her like a wave… both reverent and somber, staring up at the approaching guitarist with furrowed brows, and a slight, uncertain smile. Wordlessly, Celestine drives her cane beneath herself… and pushes herself up to her feet. Hobbling over to Casey’s side, and leaning in to whisper something to her.

Matthew begins clapping, standing up from his seat, “Great job,” he says to Casey once she’s departed the stage and then he turns to the group. “Teagan will be going up, but she needs a moment to tune her instrument, are there any others who wish to go up, if not, take a moment to grab some sliders, order drinks, and we’ll wait for Teagan.”

Since leaving the stage Casey wears a passive expression. Showing no real hint of emotion one way or another. The femme notices Celestine approaching, the hobbling figure isn’t exactly stealthy. With a quick stand after putting her guitar away the femme quickly looks confused when the woman leans in to whisper to her. She seems stunned a moment then just awkward like she doesn’t quite know how to stand properly till finally she nods to Celestine to agree to whatever was asked.

While a brief intermission ensues, Matthew makes his way over to Gnod, “Gnod,” he says, greeting the man, “I’d been wondering how you’ve been settling into the city. Do you get much of a chance to visit with the other Rothwells in town?”

Her smile softening, Celestine forgoes the aid of her cane in favor of leaning into Casey instead, curling both arms around her shoulders to pull the woman close. It isn’t a particularly intimate embrace, though Celestine does not seem to have much of an eye for boundaries. Simply squeezing her tightly for a few lingering moments… before loosening her hold on the guitarist, and tilting her head back to look up at her. Still leaning upon her stance for support. “That was such a lovely performance. I find myself to feel enamored with melodies which kindle the hearth of the heart. Thank you, for playing that for us.”

Gnod glances over to Matthew “Settling in? I suppose I’m still doing a bit of that. It’s only really been a couple weeks, and I’ve been run a bit ragged with a few extra assignments. Not left a lot of time for socializing I’m afraid. I think this is barely the second bit of leisure I’ve had time to afford myself.” he smiles a bit “Though quality over quantity I suppose. Your performances are ally very impressive.”

“The city has attracted quite a few talents,” Matthew reasons with Gnod, nodding in agreement with the man, “There were a few more signed up but unfortunately there were some last minute drop-outs.” He doesn’t sound too upset, echoing the ROthwell’s words, “but as you say, quality over quantity. Casey performed at a karaoke night and I realized immediately I wanted to get another chance to watch her peform original work, tonight continuse to prove me right on that.”

Satisfied with the state of her instrument — no surprise, considering her regular practice — Teagan sets the case aside (and leaves her messenger bag with her coat at the couch as well, effectively reserving her seat) and gets to her feet. She takes a deep breath and approaches the stage where she moves stool and mic gently out of the way. Not so far that anyone who follows cannot move them back into place or rearrange them to their needs, but she does make a space clear enough for her to stand in without being impeded.

As if on cue Teagan takes the stage and Matthew offers Gnod one final smile before breaking away to take his seat, attention on the performer.

Casey takes the hug from Celestine with purely awkward energy. One of her hands comes to the small of Celestine’s back to rest there till the hug is over in mere moments. With a bit of a smile she tells Celestine, “Thank you. It’s not my typical kind of music.” The femme needs to find something to do rather than look at Celestine’s staring eyes for too long so she takes her phone out of her pocket to check on it for any kind of saving grace, she picks an excuse then says, “Oh shit, that took longer than I expected. It’s time for me to get out of here.” she gives an apologetic smile to Celestine, “I’m sure we’ll see each other again if you are close with Helen.”

Chance applauds for Teagan as she takes the stage in encouragement, and then falls quiet to watch her performance.

“You will find me beneath the light of the moon, mine words a whisper upon the wind.” Celestine quietly assures the guitarist, reaching up to press a hand to the woman’s upper arm in hopes of unsteadily pushing herself back to her own feet. “…I am also matched with you on Myhaven.” She confides, that porcelain smile of hers ever etched upon her lips. “…Strix. I would like to have tea with you sometime.”

“Oh I never noticed. Thats what I get for matching everyone blindly.” Casey tells Celestine with a more relaxed grin. She nods her head then to show how agreeable she is, “I can do coffee while you have tea. How about that?” the question is rhetorical as she bends to collect her guitar and is already saying, “Have a good night.”

“This is not an original piece,” Teagan prefaces, feeling the need to do so after two such before her. “It is a piece composed by Vaughan Williams called The Lark Ascending, inspired by the poem of the same name by George Meredith.” A brief pause as she lifts the violin into place, thoughtful. “I suppose one could recite the poem later if they so wished.” She does not raise the bow quite yet, adding: “Additionally, this is just… a portion of the full composition-” her eyes lower as she starts to really prepare herself. “Perhaps the next concert Windermere puts on can have the entire fifteen minute arrangement.” Another pause then as her eyes close and she takes those few seconds to steel herself before she plays.

Dovie walks into the open mic night late, waving at familiar faces before taking a seat!

Chance offers Dovie a little smile as she slips in and takes a seat.

Dovie smiles at waves to Chance

Matthew spies Dovie arriving and he smiles, but his attention is on Teagan, on the stage with her violin.

After that last moment to prepare herself, Teagan begins to play. Not unlike at the concert, she loses herself in the piece ( https://youtu.be/4_FX2gnV8NE ). It begins slow, a bird slowly taking off and rising on downbeats of wings upon thermals higher and higher into the air; the scale steadily rising along with the pace. At times almost feverish with effort and then into a languid glide upon the breeze.

Dovie smiles at Teagan as she loses herself in the music, swaying to the melody.

Matthew head is already shifting with each phrasing of the melody. The slow ascension into those higher tones have him closing his eyes, breathing with the fluttering moments in the tune.

Nemi sneaks in, seemingly fresh and happy in a new pair of clothes as she makes her way for the couch to find an open spot….. somewhere.

Gnod seems barely cognizant of the rythm his fingers keep against the arm of the couch as Teagan plays.

Eyes widening as she sees something on her phone, Celestine is suddenly sweeping out of the door like a spectre on the wind, nodding apologetically to a barista she nearly barrels into as she passes.

Gnod glances over as Hyatt settles, giving a little welcoming nod, though he doesn’t speak over the music.

Hyatt returns the nod to Gnod, an affable enough gesture of manly silence, and pulls up his phone to cross reference some photos.

As others appear, Teagan is unaware as her eyes remain closed while she plays ‘The Lark Ascending’ (a shorter version, at least). The song has wound up from the slow progress of a lark rising from its nest in the meadow, steady beats of wings seeking out thermals as much as the skies above. The slower, lower notes have progressed up the scale as the piece makes use of the violin’s range… and Teagan’s as well as the tempo increases when our little bird finds those skies above, bow and fingers moving on the strings in more of a playful dance.

The musician moves, too. Not quite dancing, but certainly swaying; lost in the music as much as some in the audience, perhaps. There is a spring-like joy in the final twenty or so seconds; not quite so quick and stirring, but light and airy, freedom within the sound. As the last notes die off, Teagan remains still for a moment before letting out a breath, stepping back and lowering both instrument and bow. Confidence that built up in carriage during the performance almost crumbles away as she etches a bit of a bow and a rather quiet “Thank you” before retreating to her seat to replace the violin in its case.

Dovie claps enthusiastically for Teagan. “Bravo!!” she calls out with a wide smile.

When Matthew opens his eyes there are new faces, he briefly nodding at Nemi and Hyatt, but otherwise it’s the stage and Teagan that get his attention. On conclusion he stills, those last notes still holding out before he starts clapping his hands. “Great job, Teagan. I really enjoyed that song.”

Hyatt pounds big mitts together for Teagan in applause, bobbing his head in approval for the latter bit of the performance he caught.

Gnod lifts both gloved hands, leather clapping to leather as he applauds Teagan’s performance. “Wonderfully done. It’s been a while since I’ve heard playing like that.”

Matthew is next sweeping his gaze around the group, eying new comers before asking, “The mic is open for anyone who wishes to get on–” Annabelle’s napping form earns a smirk, amused by something, and he continues, “the stage is open for whomever wishes to get on the mic.”

Landon claps his hands together for Teagan when she finishes.

There is a flush coloring Teagan’s features as she gets her violin packed away and settles back in, case tucked in against her feet. “Thank you,” she says again, waiting to catch a server in passing to get another order in. “You should come to the next concert at Windermere,” she tells Gnod. “It is the entire orchestra, but… I think we do very well.”

Gnod smiles to Teagan approvingly, giving an affirming nod “I’ll put it in my calendar so soon as the performance is planned, that I can promise.”

Chance applauds Teagan’s performance, a bit of a smile returning to his features for the violinist and the tune, much less somber than the previous one. “Beautiful,” he says.

Nemi leans back where she sat and smiles softly as she looks towards the others.

Hyatt looks around at the the open mic with no one on stage and asks no one in particular, “No one else got anything they’re just yearning to get out? Damn, I just wandered in here, I didn’t have anything planned.”

Matthew makes his way over towards Nemi, squinting in study of her before saying, “Coach?” There’s uncertainty in his tone, a faint amusement like he’s trying to place her face with little success.

Matthew looks over at Hyatt, his hands gesturing out apologetically like what can you do, “You could go up there,” he suggests to the man, “I don’t know who you are so maybe just introduce yourself to the class, since you just got here and all,” putting the poor guy on the spot.

“I love a soap box,” Matthew echoes Teagan’s words, “and an open mic can be a great soap box.”

Hyatt rolls with Matthew’s suggestion unconcerned and strolls on up to the stage, hands stuffed into the slatted pockets of his jacket.

Nemi looks over and raises an eyebrow. “Coach?” She asks curiously. “I know I’m fit but I’m not coach material for…. anything.” She states as she nods softly. “And I don’t think everyone here wants to listen to an entire lifetimes worth of lore about some random video game.” She states as she leans back (fix).

Matthew grins at Nemi, and nods, “Mistaken identity!”

Gnod tilts his head, leaning forward a bit as gloved hands steeple, looking at Hyatt with a mixture of curiousity and interest.

Dovie gazes over towards Hyatt and claps.

Taking the mic in hand, Hyatt waves towards the audience, speaking in a warm, low rumble. “Hey hey people. Name’s Hyatt Richards. This dude asked me to come up onto stage…” — he points over to Matthew — “…and I’m happy to oblige. I don’t have a goddamn thing prepared to talk about, and I’m not a comedian, but I’ll do some crowd work until a real performer wants to pull me off the stage if you guys want. You feeling it?”

Dovie cups her hand by her mouth and yells, “Yeah!! Go Hyatt!”

Landon speaks out as well. “Go for it!”

Chance smiles a little amusedly as Matthew manages to cajole the newcomer up onto the stage and Hyatt seems game. He gives the man an encouraging round of applause for his courage. “Do it,” he grins.

“I would,” Teagan says to Nemi in regards to game lore. Once she has her mocha in hand and can wrap her hands around the warm mug, she relaxes a bit. Also, perhaps, because someone else is in the spotlight. She arches a brow as he offers to do some crowd work. “Hyatt? Like the hotel?” There is a glance over and a bit of a grin at the calls of encouragement.

Nemi claps softly for someone as they take the stag. “Nice to meet you man! you’ve got this!” She calls out in encouragement as she nods.

Nemi claps softly for Hyatt as they take the stag. “Nice to meet you man! you’ve got this!” She calls out in encouragement as she nods.

Hyatt feeds off of Dovie’s enthusiasm and says, “Fuck yeah, rich girl!” And pointing over Landon he agrees, “And you too, probably not as rich guy!” He grins aside and gives an apologetic look, saying, “I mean I’m sorry to call you out bro, you just don’t have a glowing aura of plants sprouting from you and you aren’t wearing the GDP of a European micro-nation in jewelry right now, so you look kinda middle class to me.”

Gnod calls up to the stage “Your bravery is an inspiration to us all. One most of us will likely not be able to follow however, I regret.”

Matthew grins, talking right back towards the stage, “You might be on there all night,” he calls back out, “but since you came all this way.” He’s already entertained by the supposedly not-very-funny Hyatt, “Where you come from?”

Dovie looks down at herself. “Micro-nation?”

Matthew smirks at Dovie.

Landon lets out a laugh at Hyatt’s words. “Nah, you got me pretty spot on.”

“He probably swiped something from my bar,” Matthew claims, grinning on over at Landon.

Gnod looks over to Dovie and nods a bit “Probably a city in Cambodia at least.”

Dovie glances over towards Gnod. “I’ll take Phnom Penh.”

“You’re at least a Luxembourg, you’re gonna have to try harder for a Monaco though I think,” Hyatt assures Dovie with a wink. “I just moved in from Boston,” he informs Matthew, “But I’m from all around, dad was an army brat. Sadly there were no bases in any of the micro-nations.”

“We are, all of us, poor when there is a Fairchild or a Montrose present,” Teagan says in a wry voice, looking sidelong at the two representatives. “Almost drained my account with some teal-and-gold items at Wild Bloom the other day,” she bemoans sotto-voice, though there’s a brief flash of a smile to Dovie before blue eyes return toward the stage to regard Hyatt.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Hyatt asks Dovie, for the benefit of the crowd, “And what do you do for a living?” He looks around with a grin and says, “That’s what crowd work guys usually ask, right?”

Dovie chuckles at Teagan, “Things are there to be purchased!” The Fairchild tells Hyatt. “Dovie Rose Fairchild, Mister Richards. And I’m an entrepreneur. I like investing in small businesses.”

Chance glances over to Teagan and smiles just a little bit wryly. Then his attention shifts back toward Hyatt as he continues his crowd work.

Matthew NODS AT Hyatt, confirming that this is indeed what crowdwork is and by the thumbs up being shot up in the air, he’s killing it.

Hyatt squints over to Teagan and says, “The Fairchilds and the Montroses you say? They sound like they run around in tights waving swords around and biting their thumbs at each other in a Shakespeare play. Do we have any Montroses in the house? And how do they look in hosen and codpieces?” Grinning over at Dovie, the man continues, “Clearly we got a Fairchild in the house today, and her special career is… investing! The money I’m sure she definitely made! All by herself! At the age of…” He squints and takes a wild guess, saying “Twenty-three!”

“They are, but a girl has to eat,” Teagan reminds Dovie with a smirk. When Hyatt asks how Montroses look in hose and codpieces, the redhead actually groans and finds something very, very important about drinking her mocha. Yep. That’s vital to do right now.

Dovie points to Chance. “We have two Fairchilds here, actually. And a lady never reveals her age, but I have made a good portion of my money myself.” She glances towards Landon and Gnod, offering a smile. “Oh, I’m not trying to hog the attention from the comedian, do feel free to offer up your own numbers too.” She winks and chuckles at Teagan.

Matthew grins at something said in the crowd, chuckling as he glances in Gnod’s direction. When Hyatt’s asking for a Montrose, the man stands up, “Matthew Montrose,” offering up his name to the guy he’d thrown to the wolves, “Maybe you know me from…” a pause for dramatic flair, “YouTube!” That’s right, he’s claiming his status as a F-list celebrity.

Dovie presses play on a clip of an airhorn noise right after Matthew says ‘Youtube’.

Outed. Chance smirks. “Et tu, Dovie?” He tends to thrive on being overlooked, but his expression is good-natured enough.

“And I dare say, I look good in everything, cod pieces included.” Matthew nods a few more times, no humility here.

Nemi chuckles softly at what Matthew says, after she continues to happily watch the show with a soft smile.

“Hey, for real, local business is real important, and feel free to shout out any business you think need a leg up, whether you invest in ’em or not!” Hyatt tells Dovie, and is happy enough to shift targets to the other richie riches in the crowd. “Oh you’re one of the Fairchildren too?” Hyatt asks Chance, eying his outfit up and down scrutinizingly. “Damn, why don’t you get a crazy plant aura? You’re looking like a regular ass dude.” He swings his thumb over to gesture at Matthew and says, “At least you could take a page from Montrose here. Dude’s real pretty. You KNOW he’s gonna be dressing up in a codpiece to pump up his YouTube channel’s sub count after this.”

Annabelle presses her face off the armchair of the couch, liminally present like an eclipse and pawing at the mask that’s getting in the way of wiping her face. Still tilted halfway at the neck, bound for the Earth, she looks at Hyatt on stage vacantly. “Fassshun. Needs a leg’gup.”

Gnod calls up to Hyatt “Is this the birth of a new performing arts business in the works then? Are you seeking investors, Mr. Richards?”

“That is the idea,” Chance says, of looking like a regular dude. Then he glances over toward Matthew and smiles amusedly to someone, “He is real pretty. I’m not even trying to compete, there.”

“That is the idea,” Chance says, of looking like a regular dude. Then he glances over toward Matthew and smiles amusedly to Hyatt, “He is real pretty. I’m not even trying to compete, there.”

“Starting to think we need a comedy night,” Teagan says thoughtfully as she sips at her mocha. “I bet we’ve got some wannabe comedians in town.” She looks over to Matthew, considering. Past him to Dovie. There is a sage nod from her. “Lots and lots of pretty people in this city, it’s true. Makes the rest of us feel like straight up uggos.” Said in a complete deadpan.

Hyatt waggles his fingers from Chance to Matthew back and forth and says, “I wanna see the two of you collaborate. Tights. Codpieces. Hell, maybe the two of you could hop up on Youtube together. Maybe you could…” he bumps his wiggling fingers together limply and jokes, suggestively, “…SWORDFIGHT! …wait, no, that wouldn’t be on YouTube. Not even YouTube Red, if they still call it that. That’d be REDTube.” He pauses and looks to Matthew, asking, “Do you have a RedTube account, dude? This seems like a rock solid business plan.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder they say,” Dovie tells Teagan with a chuckle.

Matthew barks out a laugh. “Man, now I gotta put in a codpiece budget,” he fires back, hand landing on his chest like he’s been caught out. ‘But you’re right, gotta give the people what they want. YouTUbe numbers don’t climb themselves.” He grins toward Hyatt, offering an exagerated bow of respect before plopping back down. Chance’s words have him pointing in his directiong, “That guy has to say that, he’s my knight, after all.”

Matthew laughs at Redtube, calling back to Hyatt, “Nah, I’m strictly a Youtube guy. Different kind of content, different kind of algorithm, but hey! I do move units, just depending on what your’e subscribing for.”

“Definitely moving your units with your knights in shining armor I’m sure,” Hyatt teases Matthew, letting his gaze drift to the other audience members. “Alright people, I gotta ask, which of you has the SHITTIEST job here? I know we’re not all Youtubers and Angel Investors, c’mon. Who goes to work and hates their life by the end of the day?”

Dovie gazes around, curious at the reactions from the crowd to the question.

Gnod glances over speculatively at the barista out of the corner of his eye, just sort of watching silently.

Matthew laughs some more, settling back, reaching for a slider as Hyatt continues to engage the crowd. He’s clearly enjoying this bit of comedy.

Once she’s recovered from some coughing, Teagan says: “Considering I work for Jakem… Some days I definitely hate my job.”

Landon looks around a little and rubs the back of his head before turning his attention back towards stage.

Annabelle scrubs one hand over the other as she returns to lucidity, sobering solemnly. “Mmmmn. I do. Part-time work as a human Shield. It’s. Probably the worst.”

Nemi raises a hand. “I tend the bar on the side of town closest to the bay side.” She states and shrugs softly.

For his part, Chance makes no comment about what he does, clearly not considering it the worst job, or hating it. He does, however, slowly slide off the couch and gives a little up-nod to Landon and Matthew. “Landon, I’ll hit you up tomorrow for a real interview.” Then with a little sweeping bow to Matthew, “My Liege.” And with that, he begins to slip out for the evening.

“There we go, we got one,” Hyatt says pointing to Teagan. “And another!” he adds, pointing to Annabelle. “For a second I thought I hit a nerve and you were all out on a business trip and the Fairchildren and Montrose were all your bosses. And your just all like…” He makes a gesture with a flat hand by his neck and strains through his teeth. “…IXNAY… ON THE OBJAY…” His spat of pig latin over, he looks to the few people who’ve offered their suggestions and tells Teagan, “I don’t know who Jakem is, but with a name like that… I already feel your pain. I mean I thought my dad was an asshole naming me after a hotel. Knowing that bastard he named me after the hotel I was conceived in, and I’ve got a bunch of secret brothers and sisters. Hilton. La Quinta. And poor, poor little Holiday Inn.”

Dovie opines towards Hyatt. “Could be worse. You could be a Marriott.”

Poor, poor Holiday Inn gets a reprieve of snickering from Annabelle, sticking her hands under her arms and staring down.

Matthew waves to the departing Fairchild, but Hyatt’s comment draws another hearty laugh from the guy, it’s starting to die down when Dovie banters back, and it’s flairing right back up.

Pointing to Dovie affirmatively, Hyatt grins and carries on. “But I gotta confess, I think sleepy girl’s got the best worst job. I mean part-time human shield, what was the job interview like for that?” he asks Annabelle. “Do they put you in a room and start pelting you with increasingly dangerous objects?” He steps to the side and puts on a nerdy voice to play the part of the test administrator: “OK, so we start you with the rotten tomato, and then we work up to golf balls, sound good?”

“I-” Annabelle blinks up at the sky, shaking her head back and forth, stuck with her smile. “They kinda take who they can get. You don’t even need to be tall to be shot at. Just need to be convenient.”

Gnod speaks softly “Golf balls aren’t where they stop.”

Hyatt makes some kung-fu motions, and mimes out throwing something with a vertical flick of his wrist, and tells Gnod. “The next step is throwing stars, obviously. But obviously they’re gonna graduate to bullets. Obviously, that’s the whole point. And listen… I know the job market is tough right now, inflation is out of control. But that’s just gotta feel bad, getting turned away from that job interview for poor performance.” He nods sympathetically to Annabelle, and then slides down to his knees, as if miming a caress over a wounded person lying on the ground. “Heyyyy so… listen. You took that bullet pretty poorly. Honestly, I know this is an entry level position, but we’re really looking for someone with five to ten years of bullet catching experience. We’ll keep your resume on file though, just in case.”

There is a look over toward the other couches and Teagan gets to her feet after a brief exchange with a server to get her mocha in a togo cup. “Well, it’s been good, Comfort Inn,” she pulls on her coat, “but I should get going.” The messenger bag follows the coat. “I’m Teagan Lawson, by the way. No famous family name.” She does snort softly in amusement as he continues the bit. “I think DoubleTree here is more of a comedian than he let on.” Hefting her violin case, she gives a polite nod to the others remaining before wending her way toward the doors, checking the weather report on her phone as she does. Just in case.

Gnod chuffs a bit at Hyatt’s words despite himself.

Matthew starts laughing again, genuinely amused by Hyatt’s quick wit, clapping for poor Annabelle’s worst job ever.

Sickeningly sweet and earnest to a fault, Annabelle’s head bobs in concession but issues the hard-line of the job qualification. “Can’t be a Shield if you break.”

With a thought, and a wave to those leaving, she mentions, “You’ve gotta be pretty great. And. When it matters most, only the great truly know what it means to be good.”

Earnestly, Hyatt informs Annabelle, “Well thank you for your service. I mean, it sounds like service. I don’t know who you’re catching bullets for. Hopefully not some douchebags. But we’ll chat about that after the show.” He turns to the rest of the audience as well, and nods at Matthew and Dovie. “And thank you, and everyone else, for being good sports. I think that’ll be my set, people, and I hope that was at least mildly more entertaining than looking around at each other in awkward silence wondering who would be the next to step up to the stage.”

Dovie claps for Hyatt. “Good job, Hyatt!”

Hyatt places the microphone back into the stand and then strides casually out and towards the couches, ready to plop down onto one of the vacated seats.

Dovie turns to Hyatt. “I do think the name is quite unique. Jokes aside.”

Landon claps his hands together for Hyatt as they come off the stage.

Annabelle gives a lazy applause for Hyatt, the clap of her hands speeding up with her droning, “Wooooooooo..”

Matthew stands up clapping for Hyatt, head bobbing, affirming him that he was indeed more entertaining. “Hey, you got a real talent,” he calls out, “Let’s all give it up for Hyatt who did the hardest thing there is to do, got up and made the room laugh!”

Gnod applaudes as well, a casual slapping of the leather of his gloves before giving Hyatt an amused smile and approving nod.

“Thanks, I got a love-hate with it. Distinctive name, for sure, but sometimes I don’t wanna stand out.” Hyatt grins and thankfully nods his head over at Landon, Annabelle, Matthew, and Gnod all in turn, saying, “I’ve never done that before, thanks guys. I guess I just saw some videos of Jeff Arcuri online and figured, fuck it, why not give it a try?”

“And, with that, Open Mic night is officially over, but thank you all for coming and feel free to stick around and continue to be social,” Matthew claps some more, “Thanks to everyone who showed up, it’s great to see you all.”

Dovie nods at Hyatt and smiles at Matthew, clapping for the Montrose. “Thank you for holding this, Matthew!”