First Big Break, A Minor Crack

Emmett sat up on the stage of the Leaky Cauldron, an acoustic guitar nestled into his hands and his glasses pushed up to his eyes, hiding eyes that dully watched the people around him. No one had enjoyed his John Lennon songs, nor appreciated the humor of Flight of the Concords. Maybe it was time for an original piece.

He leaned towards the microphone. "This will probably be my last song for the day. It's an original piece called. Here goes." He tuned his guitar and softly sang, "We have all made mistakes. Now it's time to move on. The night had been broken. It's time to move on. We all were messed up. Now it's time to move on. And for those still taking sides. I hope you hear my song." He moved on to the chorus.

"We don't need hate, we don't need pain, there'll be no winners, there'll be no gain. No more petty good or bad. This is not a silly fad. Dusk has faded, approaching dawn. No more right and wrong. It's time we just moved on. Time we tried to get along-"

Suddenly his mike went out; his time was up. He sighed and stood off his stool, lifting his guitar and saying, "Thank you for your time and half-attention," he said softly. He strode offstage and up to the bar. "A water please?" He received a water bottle and gulped down a drink.

On the contrary, Angelique payed attention. She just wasn't as impressed as the musical man had obviously been aiming for everyone to be. She was surprised when he ordered water, though. Now his set was over, wasn't it time for a guy like this to be getting plastered?

"So, you actually expected people in the Leaky Cauldron to care about your music," she observed. "That was your first mistake. This is the pub people come to drown their sorrows. If you want people to get fired up, you'd do better trying to mould the young minds up at Hogsmeade."

Emmett slowly turned his head, his lips still on the open end of the water bottle as the liquid trickled down to soothe his throat. He was not a loud, nor rowdy, sort of singer, but it was always a stretch for every singer, and it was important to preserve his vocal chords and throat as much as possible.

A girl around his age, perhaps older, was the speaker. Not that she would know he was older. He often was regarded as adult, not just because he was a dropout, but because he exuded a mature air. Her observation made him gulp one last swallow of water and he decided to pay attention to her.

"Yes, well, it is precisely those who needed to hear some music then." Emmett wanted to get his points across, but he did not play professionally for the money, or himself, but for the people who needed music. Outside of work, his music was for himself. "I find those young minds to also be a bit rowdier and loud. I don't... respond well to that." Emmett was gentle, and those jostling youths made him feel even more unwanted and out of place.

As the performer turned to respond, the bartender returned with Angelique's next drink so she was busy paying as he replied. A sip of cider was not the best idea right before you started laughing. Angelique hastily swallowed before she started to choke.

"You don't respond well?" she repeated, between hiccups.

Another swig of her drink banished the cruel after-effects of her coughing fit and allowed Angelique to get enough breath back to speak normally.

"Your songs are all about social change, but you don't want to be rowdy," she smiled at him and began walking towards a nearby table, confident he would follow.

Now that she thought about it, this little singer was kinda cute. Maybe she ought to talk him into moving up to the Three Broomsticks just to have him nearby.

"That's a laugh."

Emmett could see that she found it intriguing, the evident contradiction that he had failed to notice before, and he began to ponder it too. He said in a slow, cautious voice, "Well, I have sensitive senses and..." he slowly trailed off, not even sure what he wanted to say. There was no reason for him to stay away from those who may need his message most.

He saw her begin to move away and he rested his hand on his chin, his elbow on the surface of the bar. He began to turn, facing towards her, before turning back and facing way from her, squinting slightly as he pondered the small little situation. He shook his head, "Huh... That's... huh..."

Angelique settled herself at the cocktail table and swivelled around to look at the musician. It was getting tremendously irritating not knowing his name...

He hadn't followed her. Angelique considered drawing his attention back, but he was muttering about something. Not that muttering in and of itself was a bad thing, but she suspected this muttering was happening because he was hard of thinking.

Angelique didn't mind dumb people. Almost everyone was a dumb person when compared to her. But just because she didn't mind them, didn't mean she wanted to have an entire conversation with them, either. They were all so caught up with such mundane things. If Angelique wanted to think about that, she'd do more of her homework.

So instead of trying to get his attention back, she turned her own attention to her drink. It was nice and sweet, just the way she liked a cider.

Emmett took another swig of his water and stared towards the ceiling, looking at the line that was drawn between the mingling of the wall and the ceiling, as though his thinking was unfolding from that crevice. His mind was rapidly connecting things, realizations formed questions that formed answers that formed uncertainties...

He hurriedly stood and strode over to the opposite side of the room, passing the girl on his way. As he did, he said, "Thank you. Very much." But nothing more. He grabbed a flier by the door and a pen, and flipped over the flier, kneeling next to a table, hurriedly scrawling thoughts for a column.