Chapter Text
Another thing Imogen learns about running the front is how slow every other day is. Most of the time she has so little to do that she fiddles with the spare parts that Chetney leaves around, counting the hours until Fearne and the speakeasy regulars start to file in. Today isn’t any different.
Imogen is left to handle the front of the shop, a regular occurrence. Chetney spends most of his time hidden away, whether he’s working on an intricate carving for someone or down behind their bar serving drinks to the early starters listening to a new performer testing out their stage. She knows the latter isn’t an option, with Chetney actually working on some detailed commission in the room just behind her. The bar is closed until Imogen finishes up with the front, or Chetney finishes with his work in the back. She managed to create her own work, finally sitting at the wall piano that Chetney had bought to resell later on. Imogen spends most of the day cleaning the piano, letting her mind sink into the monotony of the work. Then, once the inside is free of the dust and pencils and, confusingly enough, a single shoe, Imogen turns her attention towards tuning it. It takes patience that has worn thin to tweak the different internal hammers and strings until the sound doesn’t have Imogen wincing.
“This is a new one.” Imogen jolts at the bench, curses when the key cover comes down onto her hands. Imogen turns to see Laudna standing in the doorway, the bell tinkling as she pushes it further open. Laudna looks tired, the bags under her eyes looking more like bruises. She still has her lopsided smile though, and Imogen feels a breath leaving her at the simple sight of Laudna, backlight by the slow-falling sun.
“Yeah, yeah he’s, uhm, he wants to get it all prettied up to sell.” Imogen’s tongue feels swollen in her mouth, her eyes briefly flicking to the half sandwich still sitting on the desk.
“Well, it’s a beautiful piece. If I had the space I would snatch it up in a heartbeat.” Laudna’s eyes flick from the piano to Imogen before quickly looking back, hands fidgeting with a lopsided case as the door chimes shut behind her.
“Yeah, it’s a real nice one,” Imogen hesitates over her words, trying to swallow down the awkwardness of the words as she says them. “How are you, by the way. Been a bit since you came by.” It had been all of two days, Imogen had sat and watched the different people as they filed in, her heart sinking as each person came and went with no Laudna in sight.
“Ah, yes. Well, Lady Briarwood had an event that I was playing in, you know.” Laudna looks away again, her hands still twisted around the case’s handle as she continues. “Very prestigious, you see, lots of old money and new money mingling about.”
“Is that just code for you were playin’ in a bank?” Imogen tries the joke out, her chest warming at the faint laugh it earns her.
“In a sense. I much prefer my usual stage, though.” Imogen catches something flash in Laudna’s eyes as she says it, something she can’t place but faintly recognizes. “If it isn’t any trouble, would you mind letting me in a bit early?” Laudna glances towards the back, and Imogen glances to the clock to check just how early it really is. The shop isn’t due to close for another two hours, but it isn’t unusual for Imogen or Chetney to close up early.
“Shouldn’t be a problem, let me just shut everything down up here.” Imogen grins as she sets her tools down, content to finish tweaking the sound tomorrow. Laudna helps, going through the well practiced motions of turning the sign to closed while Imogen flips all of the lights in the front off before opening the door to the back for Laudna.
Imogen can’t think of anything else to say, all of her questions feeling unwieldy in her mouth. Instead she bites her tongue and opens the way further into the back. Chetney sits in the workshop, a large panel of wood propped beside him as he chips the smallest details into it.
Laudna sighs beside her as they step into the speakeasy proper before she heads directly to the piano that takes up most of the stage. Imogen watches as Laudna easily slides onto the bench, her hand stroking across the keys. Imogen walks to the bar as Laudna plucks out a few simple scales, the notes morphing into a proper tune. Imogen busies herself with making drinks while Laudna plays, enjoying the way the music winds it’s way through the room. Drink in hand, Imogen watches the way light catches in Laudna’s eyes, nearly dancing with the piano as it gets pulled from her.
“I forgot how good it feels to play in here.” Laudna slumps into the booth beside Imogen with loose-limbed joy, hums appreciatively when Imogen nudges over her usual drink. Cognac and sweet vermouth with a looping straw that rests on Laudna’s chin before she sinks further into the booth with a sigh.
“Even without the usual dancin’ and cheers?” Imogen nudges Laudna, her stomach and chest swirling with warmth from her own drink.
“Besides that, Imogen,” Laudna leans into Imogen briefly, winking, “I adore the acoustics of this place, and Pate here is always a delight to play.” She lifts a hand, palm out, in gesture to the entire space. The stage itself is small, barely able to fit the piano and a few chairs for Fearne and Dorian to use when they need a break.
“Glad to know that the atmosphere is to your liking, even when it’s empty.” Imogen says, running her finger around the rim of her glass. They sit together in the quiet, the sound of Laudna’s music still playing in Imogen’s mind.
Imogen doesn’t notice how late it’s gotten, the time filled with a few more drinks and a couple energetic songs from Laudna. It’s only when Chetney returns with Fearne that Imogen realizes. She watches as Laudna fills with static energy when Fearne perches against the piano, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they talk together. Chetney takes his spot behind the bar as Dorian comes down the stairs, and then the tables around the bar slowly start to fill.
“Nice to see Laudna back.” Orym says it beside her, fails to hide his chuckle when she jumps at the unexpected sound. He hops up into the booth opposite, perches on the edge to get a better look of Fearne and Dorian as they set up. Imogen looks too, waves when Fearne catches them watching. Her eyes trail over Dorian, too busy toying with the strings of his guitar to notice. Laudna is almost hidden by the now open piano, the instrument dwarfing everyone on the stage. She’s fiddling with something that the piano hides fully, the room filled now with countless conversations and the clink of glass.
“Yeah, she came by early to get some practice in. I thought she wouldn’t be back so soon.” Imogen swirls her drink, still watching Laudna as she moves.
“I don’t think she’s ever been able to stay away. Laudna likes playing too much to give up a night.” Orym says, leaning on an elbow, still watching the stage as Fearne and Dorian take their usual places. Fearne starts them off, a whispered “one, two, three!’ before she puts her flute to her lips. She plays alone for a moment, then two, before Dorian joins in. Laudna takes longer, and Imogen watches the piano before she hears the sound. It’s confusing, hearing the plucked strings of a fiddle join Fearne’s flute and Dorian’s guitar, but Imogen watches as Laudna stands from the bench to circle around the piano to join the others. Fearne and Dorian both take a step back, and Laudna all smiles as she plays.
Laudna plays like Imogen’s old neighbor, her hands crooked and constantly adjusting while her body becomes a riot of movement. The tune is familiar too, and Imogen realizes with a jolt that it’s one she’s heard many times before. It makes something rise into her chest, something warm and swirled with emotion. Imogen sinks into the feeling as the trio finish the song with a flourish.