wolfgang.
He initially responds with a huff of air, continuing with slowed rocking motions: month old infant silently cooing against his neck. The song had been stuck in his mind for the past weeks or so, though he never figured the hazy lyrics would be put to use. ❛ Took an improv class in college— I want you to notice when I’m not around … ❜ He begins, cutting off mid-sentence to keep the child appeased. ❛ Teacher told me I was a natural— you’re so freaking special, I wish I was special. ❜ He’s joking, mostly. Singing eventually morphs into humming, and he deems it safe to move back to the bed: baby in arms. He keeps it up for another few seconds before he tests the waters, going quiet and slowly running a hand against the infant’s back. ❛ Voila. ❜ Words are hushed, despite his gloating mannerisms – he didn’t trust the newfound silence.
even in her absolute disbelief, ziba finds it within herself to roll dark hues at the ABSURDITY of it. radiohead? really? her skepticism is befitting to the situation, she concludes, and it’s not because it’s wolfgang’s doing. but it’s just a song and so she mulls over it, analyzes it with bells and whistles because she was not build to be a parent and he’s the best to take after. so, she thinks---- deciphers the data she’s given and determines is not as much the song itself as it is him, and how could it no be? because even between disbelief & signs of annoyance, she’s smiling. it’s wolfgang’s effect. ‘ what do you know, ’ she whispers, taking a seat by the edge of the bed. ‘ ----- even more of a NERD that i initially pegged you for. ’ and that’s saying a lot---- but it’s not something she’d change. ‘ what else you got on your repertoire? showtunes? heavy metal that only includes high pitched screaming? ’
















