<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/ac/600full-kenneth-branagh.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Tommy Flanagan (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9819558#msg9819558)<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 11, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Babel's Tower, Backstage<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Bella Capri<br/><hr/><br/><br/>She was distracting, to be sure. If there was one benefit of working in the arts, even the arse end of the arts to be found in Gomorra, it was the intimacy of the relationships. It was difficult to be standoffish when you were so often forced into close quarters, what with costume changes and such in small darkened rooms. Dance hall girls had a dignity denied most prostitutes coupled with a looseness of morals off limits to the more polite tiers of society. There were times when Tommy wished he were nothing more than a simple piano man. There were many harder lives in the West, and many easier deaths.<br/><br/>It quickly became apparent that Bella's skills surpassed his own, he expected to the surprise of no one present. Yet she was gracious enough to bend to his limitations and help play to his strengths. If he did not have the depth of repertoire, he at least had a set of fingers honed over a deck of cards and twice as fast as they needed to be to pound the ivories. They found a nice middle ground of fast songs that showed more raw ability and less finesse while highlighting Bella's incredible voice.<br/><br/>She had a magnetism to her, and he couldn't wait to hear her on stage playing off the energies of the crowd. Half-drunk miners though they might be. After far too short a time he threw his hands up. "Perfect, Bella. They're going to adore you." Somehow they had crossed the barrier into first names. "I was thinking, though--"<br/><br/>The door opened, with no knock, to reveal Mabel. "Mr. Solomon says to move your kiesters." She vanished as quickly as she had come, clearly being run ragged by the crowd.<br/><br/>"I suppose that's curtain, then," Tommy said. Without the music playing it became incredibly obvious how close they were sitting to each other on the piano bench, crossing bounds of propriety that might be remarked upon in more public circumstance. "A kiss for luck," he said, and planted a small peck on her cheek. "It's all right, I'm Irish."<br/><br/>He then stood and offered her a hand up. "I'll head out first. If you hear bottles being thrown, stay back here where it's safe." Tommy left the small room and made the short walk to the main front stage where the glorious new piano awaited. He adjusted the derby on his head and caught Mr. Solomon's eye with a short nod.<br/>