Displaced
"You're an idiot, Sergei," Angelo said flatly as their lead singer and back up guitarist scratched idly at the bandages on his arm. "You know we have a lot of work to do..."
"Yeah, well, not like I was planning to take a dive through the window..."
"You were drunk again."
"Was not!" Sergei looked indignant. "Wasn't in the slightest."
"Then you stank of vodka why when I took you to Hank?" Angelo sighed.
"Cos I knew he'd need to stitch me up," Sergei said simply. "Don't like needles, especially don't like drugs dat make you woozy."
"You know, you don't need to use the accent around us," Octavian said quietly as he set up his keyboard and then picked up his violin to tune it. Spike had located them a sound proof room with lots and lots of powerpoints. They were loath to ask what it had once been used for.
"Yeah, I know," Sergei slipped back into the accentless English he now used around them. "So. Let's look at what monstrosity Jono has written." Jonothon handed them their relevant sheets, and they all read them.
"What is it called?" Angelo asked, face showing respect as he looked up.
Displaced.
"Yeah...you know, this really suits us," Sergei said. The other two nodded silently. "So, let's get started."
Still needs some more work done...
"Well, let's start playing so you, our resident musical prodigy and child genius, can figure out what requires fixing," Octavian said in a snooty voice, then laughed as Jonothon threw a rubber at him, ducking the small projectile easily.
"Ok, one, two, three." Angelo started tapping out the beat on his drums and Jonothon joined in on his brand new electric guitar. Sergei caught the beat off them and Octavian started playing harmony on the keyboard. Sergei stepped up to the mike and sang.
"Never know my way back home
Since I been displaced
Something's missing
Something's gone
You know, you really never can go back home..."
Ok, stop. I need to change that dynamic... Jonothon scribbled on his piece of paper, and they all groaned in unison. He looked up. What?
"Nothing!" The other members of the band chorused. He gave them a look.
Cheeky sods.
"But you love us darrrrling, so let's move on. What are we changing?" Octavian batted his eyelashes at Jonothon.
Ok, Sergei, you need to be rougher in your voice more like this... Jonothon sang the chorus to the Russian. And Angelo, emphasize the snare. Ok, let's go.
They started again, Jonothon changing bits along the way and the other three trying to keep up. They used most of a day that way, eating lunch around their instruments and arguing amicably. Finally, they thought they had a song worth keeping.