socialcapital | [ JACKSON HEART ]

"Have I been stiffing birds on wages this whole time? Much to consider."

You are the songbird in the scenario. Not its provider.

[He frees Totality's hand.]

Feed your pigeons.

He does a sort of nervous little giggle to try to cover that he simply does not like thinking about the financial particulars of his songbird situation. If he doesn't look it right in the eye it's basically not real.

"They won't fly away...? Okay..."

The danger is not in them flying away. It's in you being swarmed once they realize you have food.

Lean down.

[He tugs Totality's wrist, pulling his hand closer to the ground. And, in demonstration, takes a few of the pine nuts and scatters them in the classic "I am a person with food" gesture.]

He follows the movement, scattering a couple more and holding the hand out at pigeon level. Soon enough they've drawn a modest crowd of fluffy birds making soothing coo coo noises.

Totality honestly looks delighted, though he's trying to be cool about it.

[He's being so cool about it.

Satin, meanwhile, has no reason to hide how he watches the pigeons and Totality both, that soft smile returning.]

I don't need to learn everything about you. Being here to share this moment is enough.

"Feeding birds...? I mean, I guess, but I've got a lot going on that's pretty cool."

He seems a little distracted though because a pigeon climbed into his hand. FRIEND

Then... tell me something else that's made you happy.

"Well. I do like music, you know."

You sidestepped the question.

"I did not. Playing music makes me happy. Writing it makes me happy too."

I'm glad you can still say that.

"Of course I can. It feels like the only thing getting me out of bed sometimes, haha."

He says it like a joke, but.

[But it isn't.

He reaches over again, slow enough not to startle the cooing flock, and rests his hand on Totality's shoulder.]

All of this won't be forever. It might not even be much longer.

As difficult as it has been, and will be... at the end of it, you will still have that love. And you will have your music itself -- on your own terms, and none other.

He blinks.

"You say all that like you already know. Are you a time traveler. Do I die or something and it changes the future..."

Nothing like that.

Cirrus are the ones to go to for future forecasting. I can anticipate a bit of where you've come from, and a bit of the journey ahead of you. That's all.

"Well, if you say so..."

He seems dubious but it's not like he has any choice but to accept the explanation.

"But if you want to see me doing something I like you should come to the show. I have~ free tickets~ I can give out~"

[He has a moment.]

That is a kind offer, and a generous one. But my intentions are to depart once you're safely returned.

His feelings

are hurt.

"Oh. Well. If you're sure, I guess. That's fine."

It has nothing to with the quality of performance you and your bandmates deliver. Even I know your work is without peer. This is the relic of a personal trauma.

Even without that, I did steal you out from under your keeper's nose. I doubt I will be a welcome presence at our return.

"I could smooth that over I bet. But if you don't want to come it's fine. You don't have to. It's fine."

He'll get over it.

[He thinks of the pigeon, fluffed up into a huffy ball.

Radiant songbird.]

Tell me something you don't like. Besides mysterious strangers turning down concert tickets. And dairy products.

"Something I don't like? Um... I don't like... deadlines...? Birthdays? Airplanes...?"

Birthdays?

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