Crater Park II: There is a hole in your mind

Nnnngehehehehehe~ Well follow me then, eye know JUUUUUST the nnnguh, place! >O8)

You wanna take this to the back alley or shall we just say they go murder people, have some fun, and either end it there or move to the aftermath in the bar or somethin?

So it's been a month or so since our favorite Psychopath made a trip to the big city, so here she is hanging out in the big central park built into a meteor impact site. she just got here, so she's not really doing anything at the moment.

A very bored Brugen Stifer marches through the park, an instrument case in one hand, occasionally casting about a curious glance at the other trolls gathered. His eyes linger a moment longer on the rather ostentatious blueblood with the wig, though he continues along his way without a word.

Picking a spot some distance away, under a tree and just out of earshot, he sets his case down in the grass and begins unpacking the contents.

Casting his weary, slightly irritated gaze to Amadey, he looks the troll over properly and replies.

Entertaining myself. What's it to you?

Brugen shifts uncomfortably, though continues unpacking a handsome violin, sliding a shoulder rest over the back and coating his bow with rosin.

I was not intending to attract an audience, merely to play out of earshot as a matter of catharsis. I won't stop you from listening, however.

In truth, the thought of an audience makes him uneasy. He tunes the instrument for a moment, casts a wary eye to Amadey's face to watch his reaction, and begins to play.

And now it's Brugen's turn to roll his eyes. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it surely wasn't this.

I didn't write it, you idiot. If you're so bloody offended, give me something else to play.

Not actually expecting his unpleasant company to produce anything, he quickly deploys a sheet music stand from his sylladex and gingerly opens the packet up to one that looks particularly entertaining.

A brief scan of the parchment, and away he goes. As he plays, his eyes alight with wonder and surprise, he begins to really get into the song, following all of the flourishes and dynamics to the letter, his skill with the violin finally being challenged again.

He pulls the bow across the final note and stares at Amadey, absolutely awestruck.

Did... YOU write this?

... Then would you mind terribly if I kept going?

He already begins gently turning the pages of the pack, drinking in the music before him. He's not much in favor of the blueblood's attitude, but there's no denying the talent before him.

Surprised at the sudden display of enthusiasm, he raises his eyebrows, wondering whether to bring it up. He readies his instrument once more, opting to remain silent, and begins without further ado to play a composition much more energetic than the last. As he plays, he begins to subtly sway from side to side, keeping time with the music and concentrating wholly on the somewhat lengthy compositions.

Not to feed your assuredly swollen ego, but I must say I am greatly enjoying myself right now.

A gentle flush colors his face as the music begins to dictate his emotions; ecstatic for the faster pieces and melancholy for the slow ones, always with an undertone of absolute captivation.

Though he continues playing, he edges to the side a little to put some more distance between the two. This is starting to weird him out a little, even if he feels an inexplicable surge of pride in his own playing.

Still, though, this is starting to get uncomfortable. He finishes playing yet another concerto, lasting just under 13 minutes, and lowers his instrument to allow his arms a bit of rest.

Do forgive me for stopping. It's been a while since I played anything with such vigor.

OHGODWHATISHEDOINGMAKEHIMSTOP

Brugen attempts to back away in something of a panic, stowing the instrument safely in his sylladex to free up his hands.

I-I... please let go of me.

His voice shaking slightly, he gingerly places his hands on Amadey's shoulders and attempts to push him off.

Now Brugen feels a little bad about clearly hurting the other troll's feelings. He smooths his jacket and fixes his tie with slightly shaky, fumbling hands, willing the bright violet flush across his face to go away. He mumbles a reply, his eyes trained furiously at the music stand as he settles himself down again.

I don't have anything against working with you, but please refrain from jumping at me like that.

Feeling a bit more composed, he fixes his attention back to the troll before him.

Why don't we start with names, at least? I am Brugen Stifer. You are?