[FIClet] Smoke Break - Trigun (m)

[Garnet]

Just a (very) short little thing I wrote up in, like, twenty minutes to amuse Kisa. Seriously, that's it.

Don't really need to have seen the series but...

Midvalley - hornfreak

Legato - bossman (telekinetic and telepathic, which come into play here just briefly, so...worth mentioning)

-------------------

The set ended with a thin, rattling clash of a cymbal, and Midvalley lowered Sylvia with a mild sigh. She was in good form tonight, good atmosphere, and the sweet woody taste of her reed lingered in his mouth. Air was a little smoky, maybe, but he ought to be used to that. With couriering between the gung-ho guns and playing lapdog to their stoic leader, he had established dozens of gigs in nearly every city in this whole damned desert. The jazz clubs were his favorite, of course, but this little bar was hip enough. Smoky, though. They served good gumbo, that was mostly why they were here. Legato’s palate dictated their travel regime. Well, that and the gunman.

The saxophonist skirted his eyes over the crowd now in the short break between sets, seeking out his employer’s presence near the back of the shady scene. As always, Legato’s eyes preceded him, bright October gold in the dimness. He blinked, and Midvalley nodded to himself. Right, cool then. Another hour or two in here, then they’d move out. Right now this was low-profile. Right now there would be no harm befallen to even that rowdy band of drunks a couple tables away. Legato was passive, and Midvalley was atmosphere, not assassin.

He could swing one more set, sure. Might have to be a clipped. Might have to start a little late, too, that smoke was really getting thick. It didn’t usually bother him, but he was feeling unusually sensitive tonight. Even playing earlier had vibrated his sinuses in an oddly unpleasant manner, making him feel as though he might need to pause and sneeze, once or twice. He didn’t, of course; he wouldn’t do Sylvia the dishonor. But maybe he’d step outside for a minute now while the others were adjusting their instruments. The bar’s populace didn’t so much look as they did listen to the musicians anyhow, particularly now that they were on break.

It was just as he was beginning to slide off the stool he perched upon to lay Sylvia in her open case that his breath caught uncertainly. Hell, maybe he wouldn’t step out. Holding tight to the sax with one hand, Midvalley turned his face away from the bar crowd and into the crook of an arm. Tired eyes squinted at some invisible point on the stage floor as his breath fluttered. Hell, might as well get this out now.

“Huh-KSCHuh!” The first sneeze was quiet, but explosive, snapping his head down into the folds of his jacket. He was glad the microphones were on silent for the time being. “Huh-- Kschhuhn! Ht’kschnn!” Two more heady explosions, and he could feel a fourth tickling just beyond his reach, high in the back of his sinuses.

The others seemed to be just about regrouped by now, but he’d be damned if he was going to play with an itch in his nose. It just wasn’t classy to be sniffling around pauses for breath.

Not quite caring who might have still had their eyes on the stage, or the concerned glance of the pianist in his direction, Midvalley wrinkled his nose sharply in an effort to persuade the obnoxious tingling. It worked, but only enough to make his breath catch again, almost bringing tears to his eyes. Hell…

And then all at once, it sharpened to an irresistible point, an intrusive and almost foreign sensation that irritated him more keenly that the ambient smoke in the air. Tightening his hold on Sylvia, he clamped the crook of his arm closer with a small flurry of potent sneezes. “Huh’mpft! H’mpfft – mphht! Huht’MPFT! Uh.”

Whew. That was a hell of a lot better. Wrinkling his nose tentatively in the aftermath and seeming pleased when the sensation had faded into nothing a quick sniff or two couldn’t cure, Midvalley picked his head back up and glance back across the crowd. None of them seemed to be paying any mind to the minor spectacle of the saxophonist briefly but urgently sneezing his brains out, but there was one gaze that he caught without fail. Of course. Legato was looking on with amusement, and Midvalley suddenly felt grateful and violated all at once. He hoped that his boss wouldn’t keep that little technique in his repertoire of ways to punish him, in the future.

“Bless you,” the words echoed with a deep resonance in his mind, and his mind alone. Midvalley nodded his thanks, and brought Sylvia to his mouth again to resume the second set. It was about damned time.

[Neesan]

I LOVE YOU.

Seriously. Stop making me love you more and more. I'm just going to go kidnap you and keep you in my pocket.

*check watch* UWWWAH, not even 24 hours of my new flamed fangirling. ROCK. THANK YOU SO MUCH! ;3;!!

I SERIOUSLY will read this about FIVE MILLION TIMES. dsjffgkjdlkgjd!!

Sounds = PANTS ON FIRE. Sensitiveness = OMFGYES.

He hoped that his boss wouldn’t keep that little technique in his repertoire of ways to punish him, in the future.

Oh yeah and THAT would be a shame. *3*

I LOVE YOU THANK YOU I AM YER SLAVE FOREVER. ;3; <3 <3 <3

[March Hare]

"atmosphere, not assassin".... That? THAT WINS, GIRL.

YOU WIN. You're still one of the BEST AUTHORS on this entire forum. And LORD that Midvalley you write him le sexy, ah yes... Hulde, hulde, driewerf hulde!

*scuttles off to work on tag for OUR Trigun nonsense *

[Sneesee]

Love this little ficlet! Thanks for sharing!!