CRESCENDO ! @crescendonot - Tumblr Blog

“ i get no answers, so the question still remains - am i ever gonna see your face again ? “

introducing dali stratford as crescendo !

#♫ / crescendo — about !#phqs.intro #tw death #THIS IS SO WORDY whoops im so sorry i just love my girl !!#proofread a few times but sorry if i missed any misspellings/grammar fuckups #anyway the main point im trying to get across is stan jodie stratford <333

nvcturnes·:

RAFA ISN’T STUPID — he knows very well that dali doesn’t want him here. thing is, he doesn’t exactly want to be here, either, but he’s made his bed. it’s time to lie in it. he leans back against the bench, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. he’s painting a picture of relaxation that he does not feel, if only to appear nonchalant. he doesn’t like letting it show that she’s gotten to him. dali is a puzzle that he hasn’t quite been able to crack — though the others in the band ( and the living that they towed alongside them, a package deal ) had adapted to him quite quickly, she’s hung back. the worst part is, he gets it. rafa knows that he approaches people with the same reluctant antagonism, and now that he’s finally gotten a taste of his own medicine, he’s found that it’s bitter.

at least she’s not blatantly ignoring him. small mercies. rafa blows out a breath, turning his head slightly toward her as he speaks. “ for me, yes. for you, no. at least, not at the moment. ” an explanation is expected, he’s sure; it always is, and no matter how many times he gives it, rafa never feels any less reluctant about it. “ just don’t give up your soul. you need it to cross over. ” he can’t imagine dali as the type to hand her soul over on a silver platter like he’d done — but then again, he hadn’t expected it from himself, either. “ and yeah, i know for sure. i’ve seen people cross over. i don’t know if that’s just another level to this or if it’s the end, but… it’s not here. i know that much. ”

when his answer comes, one which simultaneously manages to give her more than what she’d asked for and yet somehow not nearly enough, not personally, not really, dali can’t help but just be frustrated. it’s a perfect encapsulation of who rafa is, really, at least as far as she knows - since they met, he’s given her objective information, what she supposes is advice, but as of yet, she’s been utterly unable to paint a picture of who he is. her whole life, she was taught the importance of honesty, not only for the sake of convenience, but trust, integral and unwavering - to lie and be lied to is something she never quite took a liking to, so to be expected to immediately believe someone she couldn’t say three facts about with certainty, let alone have faith in them treating her friends well, is nothing short of lunacy. though it does nonetheless put her on edge, the whole ghost thing is really just the tip of the iceberg.

no matter how little a fan she is of his presence, she needs answers, and not just about the goings on of the afterlife - though they would be helpful too, admittedly. the real challenge is getting them - even if she’d never passed a single english class back in school, dali can recognise a closed book when she sees one. “so... you gave up your soul then, yeah?” she asks, putting the only twos she could find together - subtlety may have never been her specialty, not being one to so much toe the waters as just dive in headfirst, but as she speaks, one eyebrow does genuinely raise, intrigued. trying to figure him out, even if it’s through straightforward confrontation rather than gradually prying for an admission, is a task made much less daunting by the fact some of what he’d mentioned was actually interesting.

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. rafa !#oh my GOD this is so all over the place as a reply im so sorry

avgsts·:

august had had a lot of time to think about that the past week. it was like the world had started spinning faster since they’d died. it was a digital age — where trends, and celebrities, and music, lived and died inside of a day. and then on everyone moved to the next thing, unblinking, uncaring. august thought maybe he could’ve liked a world like that, if he hadn’t been thrust into it with no time to acclimate. instead he felt swallowed up by everything new he’d never seen before, and yet everyone around him seemed so accustomed to it. in fact, they all seemed to prefer it.

was it driving him crazy? of course it was. but where dali found it tiresome, august found himself simply thirsting to simply know. he wanted to experience it all, be caught up on the modern times, experience it for what it could’ve been — a gift. after all, how many musician spirits had august heard of before killer conclusions? zip. and that, really, was the key here.

“i kind of like it,” he admitted, even though knew it wasn’t helpful. “sure, it lacks a little edge. but you can never get bored when everything moves this fuckin’ fast.”

he attempted to rest his hands on the table, but found they passed right through instead.

“i always thought that music would like, immortalize me. and in a way it kind of did, didn’t it?” a giddy laugh escaped his lips. “i mean, come on dali! i know immortal rock ghosts wasn’t exactly on our bucket list, but this is pretty damn sick if you ask me.”

ever the optimist, august. it’s a trait dali shares, really, the inherent belief, no, the knowledge that in the end, everything will turn out alright - but though she’s always held more than her fair share of self-confidence, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t just admire, but at times, nearly relied on his apparent unfaltering superpower of tracking down silver linings. it’s an ability she still has no doubt had a starring role in the initial takeoff of killer conclusions, and one she almost wishes she could harness for herself now - because really, she can’t see how he’s managing to find even a single positive here. she doesn’t understand how he can so easily carry on the energy and excitement she’d known and loved from when they were performing into their current circumstances, how he can brush aside how they got where they are as if it’s nothing - her best friend’s hope was one of the first things she’d noticed when they first met, she remembers, but right now, it’s baffling. infuriatingly so.

“well, yeah, you can’t get bored, but you can’t focus, either. i mean, how are you meant to get excited about something when you can’t even look at it for more than a minute? how’s anything meant to make an impact?” for a moment, though she’s still indignant, she almost seems to be settling down - but a moment can only last so long. there’s something about his laugh, the ease in which he’s just able to accept what happened, how he can just move on - she loves him with all her heart, but in that second, she could hit him. “what about this do you find… jesus, this isn’t a fucking gimmick! this isn’t like, we some offer out of the blue, or there was some experiment gone right, we're not superheroes or some shit, we didn’t have a choice - we fucking crashed, august! we died.” she’s putting all her effort into keeping her voice near level, but her voice still stings from the strain.

she wants to be able to see things the way he can. really. she wishes she could be swept away in the sights and the sounds of 2020, mould herself into someone who can understand the seismic shift that occurred while they were, as far as they knew, six feet under. she wants put her blinkers up and dedicate herself to catching up, just as she’s dedicated herself to so much before - but she can’t. she can’t just treat everything like something new to explore, their circumstances like some new technology. not with the screeching of tires still ringing in her ears.

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. august !

concertcs·:

for a minute, tito was sure that dali would be the one who took the longest to come around — which, maybe she was but it didn’t take nearly half as long as tito expected. at least, not with them. rafa is still a work in progress, but they have faith in eddie’s ability to make a case for him. the thing about dali is, compared to august and eddie, she’s nothing short of a hardass, but once tito got to know her a little bit better, they could see just how many parts of her were inexplicably familiar. her tendency to be fiercely protective over her band reminds tito of his own hesitance to introduce them to kerry. her habit of already nudging him in the bolder direction that they tend to avoid when left to their own devices ( despite only knowing each other for a week ) isn’t too far off of how kerry’s been their whole lives. and, perhaps most significant of all, dali’s love and passion for music makes him feel like he’s around his dad again. now they’re at the point where dali’s presence is a welcome one.

“i never really thought i’d be one for roommates, but i don’t really mind it,” tito thinks out loud as they drop into the corner of the couch that dali isn’t currently occupying. they figure that they probably could sit in the same corner if they really wanted to, but he already knows for a fact that the sensation of walking through the ghosts isn’t a necessarily pleasant one. “my brother and i shared a room growing up and i used to dream of the day that i would have my own space and some peace and quiet.” there’s a ghost of a smile on their face as they allow themselves to think back to their childhood— no pun intended— for the first time in a long time. “but it’s kind of lonely all on your own.” / * @crescendonot·

if she’s honest, the apartment of some guy she’d only met a week ago hadn’t quite been where dali had imagined she’d be spending a fair bit of her afterlife - but even though tito’s place isn’t a terrifyingly empty void or picturesque land above the clouds, she’d honestly be hard pressed to find a fault with her rather unexpected haunt. sure, the flat, already small on it’s own, is somewhat cramped with the four of them there, even if the majority of it’s current inhabitants can’t make too much of a physical impact, but in truth, what may be claustrophobic to some has only made her like it more. in a way, it reminds her of home - not the guest house, which, though it had served them well, she hadn’t at all been planning on staying in forever, but home home, the mess of a shoebox she’d grown up in that she, for once, hasn’t yet been able to pluck up the courage to return to. the two may have been lived in by people with vastly different tastes, sure, but the fact they’re lived in at all, not just resided at - that’s what’s brought her the most comfort, and maybe, that’s why she’s found hanging around much more preferable to… well, as of yet, anything.

and then, of course, there's tito himself - it’s not a praise she’d ever thought she’d sing, but she doesn’t think there’s any person she’d rather have first encountered upon rejoining the living than them. they’re sweet, and generous, and all the things she thinks she could want from a living host - so when he admits that he’d long dreamed of living alone, dali’s nothing short of taken aback. “really? i think i might be the opposite - i’m an only child, but i don’t think i could ever go solo. me and my mum could never shut up at home, like, we got genuine noise complains, and then with the boys… well,” she pauses, giving him a look that can only say ‘you-know’, “you’ve seen us. i think i’d just miss the noise too much to live alone.” she lets a silence hang between them for a second, but there’s only so long dali can go without tugging on a loose thread. “your brother… you see him often?”

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. tito !#there was so much more i wanted to say about tito but this was already incomprehensively rambley </3 #this gif is INSANELY blue but it has a couch so for now it's permitted

nvcturnes·:

for the first time in a while, rafa has something he hadn’t really realized he’d been missing: entertainment. though his encounters with this merry band of ghosts and its accompanying humans have grated on him at times, rafa can’t deny that it can be downright amusing watching them fumble through the beginnings of being ghosts. he knows it won’t last long, so he’s on his way to make the most of it, swerving around the living folks who are completely oblivious to his ghostly form. he’s almost about to whistle to himself, in something of an uncharacteristically good mood, when he stops in his tracks at the sight and sound of someone familiar.

only a single killer conclusion ( killed conclusion? not a joke to make, he thinks ) awaits him, dali’s stony expression greeting him as warmly as a winter day. “ well, ” he says eloquently, all momentum lost with only a handful of words. he sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels slightly, unsure of what else to do with himself. redirecting his focus at dali, rafa tilts his head slightly, deciding to make the most of it. “ what’s an hour compared to eternal afterlife? i’m sure i can handle a little waiting. ” he moves forward, sitting on the bench a couple feet away from her. “ that is, if you don’t mind the company. ”

it’s a tough little corner she’s backed herself into, dali realises, only a few too many seconds late to do anything about it. the fact she’d have to speak to rafa alone at some point was an inevitability, she knows, but it was one she’d imagined would arrive much, much later, and with far less direct involvement from herself - it’s not as if she’s been trying to avoid him or anything, but he in and of himself may just be the one unknown in the world she’s not totally confident in approaching, at least not with the same amount of trust he’s already managed to garner from august and eddie. she’s an optimist on the whole, but her faith is nonetheless hard to win - at least, hard to win for a ghost. it’s a bias she knows is unfair given the current circumstances of her own existence, but one that unshakeably exists all the same - though perhaps if she’d had 22 more years to get used to this, he might’ve had just as much luck winning her over as someone like tito had.

rather than immediately dignify him with a response, dali waits - simply watches while he shifts on his feet and comes to his own conclusions, staring him down with the slightest hint of a glare as he moves to sit himself down beside her. “do what you want,” she finally surrenders, dismissive, but though her gaze turns back towards the pedestrians going about their days without the faintest knowledge of their existence, her attention is still fully on him. so, he had been looking for the others - interesting. “so this whole… thing. eternal, you reckon?” she finally asks, her tone almost interrogatory as she breaks the silence she’d all but forced to hang between them for a few moments, “i mean, you know that for sure, or is it just... i dunno, a guess?”

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. rafa !#good articulation machine broke #rafa king i love you so much i do not share the same views as dali i am so sorry she's such an asshole <3

hippolyta + medea

HIPPOLYTA: what is your biggest regret?

now this - this is a question that has her taken aback. if you’d asked a week ago (or is it 15 years?) she would have been stumped for an answer, probably would’ve said something about a fumbled lyric on the demo in search of something worthwhile to offer up, but now, she doesn’t know where to begin. she goes through them in her mind as if she’s thumbing through records, newly realised and almost alphabetised. it takes her over half a minute to reply, over half a minute to settle on one concrete answer. “not hanging round for one more drink,” she says simply, but there’s a weight to her words. she doesn’t need to explain further, justify why she chose what she did - the band, the gig, her mum, her vow, all were major contenders, but in the end, or at the start, they all had the same root cause, one she’d do anything, anything to reverse. it’s obvious what her biggest regret is. the crash.

MEDEA: do you have any quirks?

“one of my teachers used to call me quirky when i wouldn't do any work, you know,” she reminisces with a bittersweet smile, “apparently just being myself was enough for a lot of the people i knew back then.” dali hadn’t ever really fit in while she was alive, and she supposes now being a ghost only exacerbates the fact - though standing out a bit hadn’t really bothered her then, and not fitting in with the major living demographic with los angeles is the least of her worries now. “i dunno. i'm guesssing i do, but like, if you don’t really give a shit about that sort of stuff, it’s hard to pick what makes yourself different out, y’know?”

#♫ / crescendo — answered !

hamlet, miranda, viola !

HAMLET: do you prefer to think things through thoroughly or act on impulse?

“impulse.” it’s a response evidence by the haste in it’s own delivery. “who do you think i am, eddie? no, listen - eddie, like, he always talks about how important it is to weigh up choices, think on decisions, all of that shit, but really? sometimes, you just don’t have time for it. the world isn’t going to wait around while you write up a list of pros and cons. it’s better to just go for something and see what happens rather than just think about what could happen.” she explains herself simply, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. “never know if you don’t try.”

MIRANDA: is happiness a choice?

“emotions are just sort of reactions, aren’t they? like, you feel stuff because of other stuff.” though it’s an immediate conclusion to come to, she takes a moment drawing it out as she thinks over the main point of the question. “so i guess… happiness itself, no - i mean, you can act happy, but that doesn’t mean you are happy. you can choose to do stuff that’ll make you happy, though. so it’s sort of - no, it’s not yes and no. it’s no, but.”

VIOLA: how skilled of a liar are you?

( answered here ! )

#♫ / crescendo — answered !

cordelia n viola !!

CORDELIA: do you consider yourself a good person?

( answered here ! )

VIOLA: how skilled of a liar are you?

if she hadn’t immediately reacted by biting back a mischeveous grin, perhaps her first reply of “an incredibly skilled one” could have held the tiniest bit more merit. it doesn’t need to be pointed out to her that the jig is up, so she just allows herself to relax her shoulders and shake her head, an almost defeated smile resting on her lips. “lying’s not really my thing. not as in like, morally or whatever, hell, it would’ve helped me out a ton in school - but i just can’t do it. really, the world would probably be a much happier place if i could, but it's not happening. and you can trust me on that.”

#♫ / crescendo — answered !

cordelia & lady macbeth !

CORDELIA: do you consider yourself a good person?

“i don’t think i’m a bad person,” she starts simply, because in the moment, that’s all she knows for sure. she’d always had other things to think about when she was alive, with any existentialism quickly forgotten about in favour of something more productive - so when she has to think on it now, she’s genuinely stumped. “i don’t know, i guess it depends on how you define goodness - i mean, it’s not like i ever killed anyone,” don’t think too hard on that, she has to quickly remind herself if she wants to stay focused, move on, “but i don’t think i really saved anyones life, either. i dunno.” in the end, she just has to give an uncertain half-shrug. “when i can, i try to be.” it’s a short statement, and an inconclusive one, but at the very least it’s an honest one.

LADY MACBETH: what is your favourite thing about yourself?

“i get shit done.” it’s a simple response, perhaps a show of arrogance in it’s immediacy, but said with such conviction that it’s clear dali thinks it’s the only way she could ever possibly answer. “people talk about talent, and luck, and timing, but it’s bullshit - you want something, you work for it. i wanted to get good at guitar, so i practiced. i wanted to make a band, so i reached out. i wanted us to make it big, so…” she trails off for a moment, the words caught in her throat. can she say she did something if it never actually came true? no, she decides, with a quick shake of the head to move on. “yeah,” she finally repeats, decisive as she locks the answer in, “i get shit done.”

#♫ / crescendo — answered !

archivesdiveronaevents

Shakespearean Character Ask Meme

ANTONY: What bad habits do you need to break? BEATRICE: What is the achievement you’re most proud of? BENVOLIO: What comes to mind when you think of peace? BIANCA: What do you want most in life? CELIA: Do you want to fall in love? CIRCE: Would you rather be loved or feared? CLAUDIUS: What is the worst thing you’ve ever done? CORDELIA: Do you consider yourself a good person? CRESSIDA: What makes you feel trapped? DESDEMONA: Do you believe that the truth will set you free? EDGAR: Do you want to make your family proud? EDMUND: Do you ever wish you’d been born someone else? If so, who? GERTRUDE: Would you (or have you) ever cheated on a significant other? HAMLET: Do you prefer to think things through thoroughly or act on impulse? HECATE: Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extrovert? HELENUS: Do you believe in God? HIPPOLYTA: What is your biggest regret? HORATIO: Who do you love most? JULIET: What is your favorite luxury? LADY MACBETH: What is your favorite thing about yourself? MACBETH: Have you ever killed anyone? Would you? MALCOLM: What does honor mean to you? MEDEA: Do you have any quirks? MERCUTIO: Is there anyone you would die for? MIRANDA: Is happiness a choice? OBERON: Does reputation matter to you? OPHELIA: Is there anything you regret not doing? ORSINO: If you could have any material thing in the world, what would it be? PARIS: If you had the chance to rule the world, would you? PORTIA: When did you lose your innocence? PUCK: Do you consider yourself a mischievous person? ROMEO: How far would you go for love? ROSALIND: What does your ideal day entail? ROSALINE: Which people from your past haunt you? SEBASTIAN: Is violence ever the answer? TITANIA: Do you believe in magic? TYBALT: If you could kill one person without consequences, who would it be? VIOLA: How skilled of a liar are you? VOLUMNIA: Describe the biggest sacrifice you’ve made.

#♫ / crescendo — ask memes !#truth be told dali's not much of a shakespeare girl #but i honestly just love these questions so we're going with them !

avgsts·:

august sensed the tension immediately, like the temperature had dropped fifty degrees. dali with her head in her hands, the radio thrumming, a snippy one-liner hurtled at him before he’d even had the chance to do anything to provoke it. it was a classic scene. it actually made him a little nostalgic. he knew he’d have to tread carefully from here on out. this was dali’s way of telling him she was in no mood.

“maybe it’s a classic in how good it is,” he said. “it’s seriously one of the best bass chord progressions out there. at least, it’s in my top three for sure. i wish i wrote the damn thing. that’s how good it is.”

and then a thought occurred to him. — dali had been an enigma for as long as he’d known her, but if he ever really wanted to know what she was thinking, all he had to ask himself was, ‘what am i thinking?’ they were tethered like that, shouldering all of the same jealousies and burdens.

august wished he’d wrote the white stripes, and therefore dali kind of wished she wrote the white stripes, and therefore therefore she was presently upset about all of life ( and opportunity ) they’d missed out on in fifteen years. got it.

gingerly, he took the seat opposite her now-vacant one.

“i think we should just be glad they’re still playing these kinda songs somewhere,” he said. “it would’ve been a fucking bummer to wake up and realize our whole brand had gone out of style.”

dali wishes she could continue to put fault on the song, hold it accountable for all her frustrations and woes and honest, embarrassing jealousy, but deep down she knows it’s an unjust blame to place. as much as she loathes to admit it, she knows there’s truth in what august’s saying - at least, the sentiment is a shared one, though between them, that’s never been a surprise. even now, she can vaguely remember the first time she heard those opening chords, how she’d dropped everything to turn it up and the brief attempts she’d made to recreate them between rehearsals. despite her impatience with it now, she knows it was one of the best things to come from the turn of the century - but then, if she can’t hold it accountable for how she’s feeling, who is she supposed to pass the responsibility off to but her own ever-lingering regret?

it takes slowing to a halt by her original chair for her to realise she’d gotten up and begun pacing as she’d ranted, though it takes a fair few more seconds for her to process what august’s saying before she eventually throws herself back down again - it’s a concession, a silent acknowledgement that he has a point, though the tap-tapping of one heel on the ground serves to indicate she’s not quite defeated.

“well no shit, of course they’re still playing them - the world didn’t get that fucked in 15 years, they’re not insane.” it’s a statement she does briefly question the moment she says it - she has to admit, the past week has certainly been an eye-opening one, seeing how much a city can change in just over a decade even nearly eclipses the shock of the whole ghost circumstance - but still, she powers on. “still, though, don’t you think… they want to move too fucking fast now, don’t they? with technology, and trends, and people, and fuck, with music - why do they want to move on so bad? 2003…”

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. august !

back when dali was a kid - before the band, before august, before even her own guitar - many an afternoon had been spent with her head in her hands, eyes shut, attune to nothing but the music coming down from the old cassette player sat up on the kitchen shelf. at the time, it had been a welcome distraction from whatever frustrating nightmare the preceding school day had been. now, technically thirty-odd years later, it’s a setup she’s started to recreate more and more often, face in palms at tito’s kitchen table when he’s left for work - only instead of having free reign over her mother’s ever-expanding catalog, she’s at the mercy of a radio station, and rather than relieving her worries, it’s a circumstance that’s left her more frustrated than she would’ve been without it.

august’s arrival to the room, which coincides with the opening lyrics of seven nation army, isn’t punctuated by a traditional ‘hello’, rather, dali’s only form of greeting is a rather bitter, irriated request - “can you turn that shit off, please, or… jesus, change the station or something?” before he has time to say anything, she’s already interjected, apparently having been hit by a sudden burst of energy, head lifting from her hands, now free to gesture as she explodes into a tirade. “god, did you hear that? ‘the white stripes’ rock classic’ - it came out in what, 2003? like, i get… the 80s being classic now, but come on, two-thousand-and-fucking-three is not classic.”there’s something else behind the bitterness in her voice, the anger at such an irrelevant introductory phrasing - there’s hurt. she may not be able to put what she truly means into words, but her indignant tone manages to do the real talking for her. ‘that could have been us.’

@avgsts

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. august !#i hope this is alright !!#im so sorry dali's already vaguely miserable / angry queen it's been like two seconds give it some time #anyway absolutely no need to match length or anything !!

dali had never really given the thought of dying the real time of day when she was alive, much less the thought of being a ghost. sure, like every kid, she’d passed her fair share of sleepless nights by fighting through internal debates, key topics heaven vs hell, afterlife vs nothingness - but if she’s remembering right, ghosts had never held that much weight outside of horror movies and personification of noisy pipework in her building. maybe if she had spent more time on it, she’s started to think, she could’ve made more of a postmortum plan for herself - because really, in theory, she could do just about anything she really wants now, go anywhere, see anything, face even less consequences than she’d thought there were in life.

she hasn’t, though. instead, she’s found herself not only staying in the exact same city she’d spent her whole life in, but now, when she’s alone, at least, pretty much the exact same block she’s spent her whole afterlife in. the faces that pass are becoming familiar, slowly but surely, and for the most part, she’s able to put them to memory without looking like some creep staring from a bench down the road from an apartment building - but when someone’s able to look right back at her, rather than try to look away, her face only seems to harden. rafa isn’t just some regular passerby, after all. “just so you know,” she begins, steely, forgoing the usual formalities of a greeting, “if you’re looking for them, the boys are out, and tito’s still working for another hour or so.”

@nvcturnes

#♫ / crescendo — threads !#♫ / ft. rafa !#i hope this is ok !! no need to match the length or anything

itskerryclai·:

“So remind me how this works.” Kerry had just moved into her new apartment. She hadn’t had many visitors besides her parents and Tito. And, of course, the ghosts. But could they really could as visitors? She poured herself a glass of wine, “New Apartment” by Ari Lennox playing slow on the speaker as it had been for the past 2 weeks. “If I poured you some wine, could you drink it? Or would it just… you know.” @crescendonot·

as she wanders around the space, silently willing her old scuffed shoes to make some sort of noise as her feet hit the ground, dali can’t help but be taken back to when she and the boys had first moved into their guest house. it had been a sharp contrast to her childhood apartment, as she supposes kerry’s new place now is to tito’s - it’s the same sort of feel, even with furniture and decorations, both arranged more akin to a showroom than the home it needs to grow into, coveted, not yet lived in enough to be sent into a comfortably organic disarray. her attention, which had drifted as far as she had as she’d explored, quickly snaps back when kerry starts to ask her a question. “as far as i know?” she considers the idea for a moment before answering, “i don’t think so. i’m not much of a wine girl anyway, though, so - i mean, i... wasn’t much of a wine girl.” even after a week she’s not sure of the right terminology, but she at least, rather unhelpfully, knows that both tenses sit sour on her tongue. before she can allow herself to linger on the slipup, she changes the subject to one she’s much more comfortable with, “hey, what song is this?”