@exanxmo sent: “ So why did I have to find out from Chas that you apparently also know music? ”
“Oh, ‘cause Chas should learn to mind his own bloody business!” John replied, raising his voice enough to make sure that his best friend could hear him from where he was doing only God knows what in the kitchen. Probably cleaning up. Or making a shopping list, because apparently he didn’t approve that the magician had decided to try and survive on alcohol and curses.
Rolling his eyes, he slumped back against the couch and shrugged, bring his bottle of beer to his lips and taking a quick swing. His tie was abandoned on the coffee table and his shirt was in the laundry basket. Not that he needed something to wear to be decent, considering the bandages that covered most of his tattooed skin of his torso. The case they had closed the day before had turned out to be a thorny one. Metaphorically and literally.
“But aye, I know some shite ‘bout music, kid,” he went on with a small shrug. “I used to have a punk band, back before...” He waved a hand. Before Newcastle. Before Astra. Before he had damned his soul to Hell. All honest ways to put it, but what he said was: “Before life got even more fuckin’ complicated. Pass us the cigs, will you?”
He stretched his hand out, waiting for Ruby to grab the package for him. “Mucous Membrane. That’s how me n’ my mate Gaz had called it. We were shite, but no worse than most people back then. Chas was our driver. I sang, wrote half of the songs. N’ did a few things on the guitar too, from time to time. Mostly off stage.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Why do you even care? ‘S I said, t’was ages ago. Haven’t picked up a mic in forever.” His eyebrow knitted together for a moment. “Ah, if we ain’t countin’ drunk karaoke nights. Had a few durin’ the years. Back wit’ Zee, n’ ‘cause I lost some bloody bet to Chas. The bloke has always complained ‘bout my singin’, but I think he likes it. A lot.”
