Woven Delights, Painted Ladies
He'd managed to escape the shop today, the matter of convincing his mother being an easy enough one. It had been a beautiful Roalis day, the sun practically splitting the stones and there was a pleasant bustle outside. The temperatures so far this season had been hot and humid, a mugginess that made the air sticky and oppressively heavy. It wasn't that long since the rainy season and that wetness had persisted, crawling into the new month. However, today had been a perfect day. There had been no morning mist like on the other days and he had known that it would be a good day to go out. It wasn't the kind of day where he was likely to end up with sweaty fingers slipping and sliding over the instrument's strings. Not the kind of day that made people eager to scuttle on past, sticky and fanning themselves, impatient to get to their destinations. Instead, it was a good day to play. A good day to be heard.
Shae had been quite right of course. He'd been able to play with reckless abandon, music firing his soul while the day's warmth made him dewy. There had been sour notes aplenty but he hadn't cared and his audience hadn't seemed to mind too much either. Maybe some of the coins tossed his way had been thrown out of pity but some people had lingered, especially when he took off his shirt. It hadn’t been a tactic - it wasn’t one he’d have expected to work - but it had been bloody hot, especially staying still for so long. When he got into his music, he managed to work up quite a sweat! Making music could be hard work and it couldn’t be helped that he was so… passionate.
Admittedly, he hadn't been entirely focused on playing music and making money the entire day but taking some time to steal some kisses with a pretty witch certainly wasn't a waste as far as he was concerned. It did mean that he probably hadn't made quite as much money as he could have. Still, there was a tally or two in amongst the forts and the occasional hats so there really wasn't any room for complaints, not from Tessa anyway. The teenager had diminished that money a bit but he'd had to eat and drink after all his hard work. What was more, he'd be home long before dark although there was a fair stretch in the evenings so in truth, he could have stayed out for awhile yet. The sun was only starting on that slow dip where shadows grew long and everything was turned to gold in its slanting rays.
As he strutted through the Painted Ladies on his way home, the relative youth of the evening struck him and he wondered why he should have to head home just yet. Tessa would find something for him to do, some tedious and dull task, something he wasn't in the humour for right now. The wick couldn't understand why handing over his earnings didn't free him of such nonsense but he knew from experience that the coins in his pockets would be no defence against the seemingly endless chores that his mother devised. That didn't mean that Shae couldn't put his time to good use. He had a prospect in mind that seemed more enjoyable to him and if all went well - assuming he didn't screw anything up this time - then he would actually be helping his mother out. Not that Tessa needed to know that.
Drawing near to home, he headed for the new draper's shop instead of his own although he hesitated at its door. Woven Delights. He'd been in here just a few days previously making an utter fool of himself but he'd vowed to come back. That didn't mean that he didn't feel a little apprehensive about doing so. It wasn't like she'd have forgotten what an idiot he'd been and clumsy as well. After the fact, the young musician had considered his actions and his words and had cringed. There was no guarantee that re-entering the premises sans his mother would make him behave any less like a child.
Still, he took a few deep breaths and considered his purpose. There was a point to this, not just some flight of fancy that had occurred to him. Ava Weaver had the potential to be an ally and a friend to his mother, one that would be sorely needed when he left home. It was a matter of convincing the young woman to be on the witch's side without getting distracted by having his brain drop. She was seriously distracting but he was steeling himself, charged with purpose. He pushed the door open.
The bell tinkled merrily, the scents of fresh and varied materials filling his nose. He peeped in surreptitiously, not wanting to disturb her if she had customers but the coast appeared to be clear - unless she had someone in the backroom of course. In any case, he straightened, eyes darting up automatically to check that there was space for his head.
"Hello Miss... uh... Ava?" he called out, wincing noticeably. Circle strike him, why hadn't he thought about what to call her. Calling her Miss Weaver seemed strange, Ava alone too familiar and yet Miss Ava seemed strangely artificial. The guitar bumped the door jamb, sending a discordant hum through the air. Shit. He hadn't considered the guitar. He could have dropped it home, should have but then he would have had to explain to Tessa why he was going back out. He just had to avoid bumping it into anything, yet another one of his appendages that could upset the order of the establishment. Leaning it against something was a possibility, near the door for instance but that would be too presumptuous of him. Instead, he allowed his grasp on it to tighten, holding it close against his body as he stepped up to the counter, eyes moving to the draper herself, a small smile for her.
"I hope you don't mind me dropping in like this but... I wanted to talk to you about something. If I may. And I promise I won't cause any trouble this time!" he interjected hurriedly, fingers moving to curl the hair that hung loose from his ponytail. "I am sorry about that - the silk - even though everything turned out okay. It might not have so... I'm sorry. Can I- Is it all right if I call you Ava? I don't want to..." he trailed off, blushing as his gaze darted down to his feet.