World's Tiniest Violin
Jan. 31st, 2012 03:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: World's Tiniest Violin
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: One of Nicoletta's pranks as seen through the eyes of her helpless pawn, or, cry moar, Leo.
Story: Polyfaceted
Notes: Okay, so I was talking to Sara, and then this happened. Idk. Stamped with her stamp of approval.
It was a strange job. Probably the strangest one Enver had ever had. Follow some guy around all day, playing the saddest songs he knew? Definitely weird.
But not illegal, and hey, for all he knew the guy liked being serenaded all day. It wasn't like Enver was a bad violinist, either. Hadn't had any complaints so far, anyway.
Besides, it was a lot of money the blonde was offering him. For that much money, a man could overlook a lot, even the really creepy smile she wore.
"Okay," he said, and took the cash. "Where do you want me?"
--
Enver turned up at the address she'd given him the next morning, violin in hand and password memorized. "Hi," he said, at the front desk. "Um, Nicoletta sent me?"
The receptionist, who had previously looked rather bored and put-upon, brightened immediately. "Oh, you must be Enver! Of course, we were expecting you. Here's your badge. Just take the elevator on up. Mr. Corlioni's office will be on your immediate right."
"Thanks," he said, bewildered. "Is there somewhere I can tune up?"
She gestured to the side. "Right here will be fine."
Definitely something going on here that he didn't know.
--
He left the case at the receptionist's desk and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The offices were very nicely appointed, he thought, and subtly so. It was kind of creepy, though, the way the security guards just kept waving him through, and grinning.
He found the office he was looking for immediately, and stood uncertainly outside it.
Just start playing, the blonde had said. Leo loves music. Just don’t stand too close to the door.
Okay then, he thought, lifted the violin to his chin, and began to play. Mozart's Requiem; it was a nice, sad start.
--
He was barely two measures in when the door crashed open and a tall man stood glaring at him. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed.
He'll pretend to be mad. Don't worry, he isn't really. But don't talk to him, that will make him mad.
Dude sure looked mad. Enver shrugged, mentally, and kept playing. He wasn't being paid to ask questions, he was being paid to play the violin, and very well, too.
"...fine," the guy said, after a while. "Be like that, fucker." He went back into the office and slammed the door so hard it rattled the frame.
--
By lunch, the guy had come out and screamed at Enver five times, three other people had asked him what he was doing there, and a brunette girl, convulsed with laughter, had told him to keep up the good work and that she'd explain to everyone. Whatever it was seemed to be working.
The brunette had even tucked a twenty in his shirt, which Enver appreciated.
Ah, but the guy was coming out now, heading for the bathroom. Enver hesitated-- there was only so far he was willing to go-- then shrugged. No one said he had to go in.
--
He played outside the bathroom for all of two measures before the guy slammed out and screamed, "SERIOUSLY?" in his face.
Enver took a step back, but kept playing. He'd been busking in New York for six months. This guy was nothing.
He kept coming, though. "You can't leave me alone for five fucking minutes? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"If you'd act like a grownup instead of a big fucking baby..." The blonde came out of nowhere, laid her hand on Enver's shoulder and smiled sweetly at the guy. "Thank you, Enver, I'll take it from here."
--
Enver escaped gratefully, took the elevator to the lobby and traded his badge for his case. The receptionist, grinning, said, "Thank you, sir, you've done a good day's work."
"Uh, thanks," he replied, seriously unnerved now, and walked fast out of the building. It took three blocks' distance before he relaxed.
He still had no idea what had happened, but he'd made a cool two thousand out of three hours playing. A hell of a lot more than anything else he'd ever done.
Besides, judging from the shouts that echoed down the elevator after him, the guy had deserved it.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: One of Nicoletta's pranks as seen through the eyes of her helpless pawn, or, cry moar, Leo.
Story: Polyfaceted
Notes: Okay, so I was talking to Sara, and then this happened. Idk. Stamped with her stamp of approval.
It was a strange job. Probably the strangest one Enver had ever had. Follow some guy around all day, playing the saddest songs he knew? Definitely weird.
But not illegal, and hey, for all he knew the guy liked being serenaded all day. It wasn't like Enver was a bad violinist, either. Hadn't had any complaints so far, anyway.
Besides, it was a lot of money the blonde was offering him. For that much money, a man could overlook a lot, even the really creepy smile she wore.
"Okay," he said, and took the cash. "Where do you want me?"
--
Enver turned up at the address she'd given him the next morning, violin in hand and password memorized. "Hi," he said, at the front desk. "Um, Nicoletta sent me?"
The receptionist, who had previously looked rather bored and put-upon, brightened immediately. "Oh, you must be Enver! Of course, we were expecting you. Here's your badge. Just take the elevator on up. Mr. Corlioni's office will be on your immediate right."
"Thanks," he said, bewildered. "Is there somewhere I can tune up?"
She gestured to the side. "Right here will be fine."
Definitely something going on here that he didn't know.
--
He left the case at the receptionist's desk and took the elevator up to the fourth floor. The offices were very nicely appointed, he thought, and subtly so. It was kind of creepy, though, the way the security guards just kept waving him through, and grinning.
He found the office he was looking for immediately, and stood uncertainly outside it.
Just start playing, the blonde had said. Leo loves music. Just don’t stand too close to the door.
Okay then, he thought, lifted the violin to his chin, and began to play. Mozart's Requiem; it was a nice, sad start.
--
He was barely two measures in when the door crashed open and a tall man stood glaring at him. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed.
He'll pretend to be mad. Don't worry, he isn't really. But don't talk to him, that will make him mad.
Dude sure looked mad. Enver shrugged, mentally, and kept playing. He wasn't being paid to ask questions, he was being paid to play the violin, and very well, too.
"...fine," the guy said, after a while. "Be like that, fucker." He went back into the office and slammed the door so hard it rattled the frame.
--
By lunch, the guy had come out and screamed at Enver five times, three other people had asked him what he was doing there, and a brunette girl, convulsed with laughter, had told him to keep up the good work and that she'd explain to everyone. Whatever it was seemed to be working.
The brunette had even tucked a twenty in his shirt, which Enver appreciated.
Ah, but the guy was coming out now, heading for the bathroom. Enver hesitated-- there was only so far he was willing to go-- then shrugged. No one said he had to go in.
--
He played outside the bathroom for all of two measures before the guy slammed out and screamed, "SERIOUSLY?" in his face.
Enver took a step back, but kept playing. He'd been busking in New York for six months. This guy was nothing.
He kept coming, though. "You can't leave me alone for five fucking minutes? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"If you'd act like a grownup instead of a big fucking baby..." The blonde came out of nowhere, laid her hand on Enver's shoulder and smiled sweetly at the guy. "Thank you, Enver, I'll take it from here."
--
Enver escaped gratefully, took the elevator to the lobby and traded his badge for his case. The receptionist, grinning, said, "Thank you, sir, you've done a good day's work."
"Uh, thanks," he replied, seriously unnerved now, and walked fast out of the building. It took three blocks' distance before he relaxed.
He still had no idea what had happened, but he'd made a cool two thousand out of three hours playing. A hell of a lot more than anything else he'd ever done.
Besides, judging from the shouts that echoed down the elevator after him, the guy had deserved it.
