[network][Day 138|video|@hotstud_xxx] You Get What You Need [open]

[rubikscomplex]

[There's no pithy commentary from House as is more common for the introductions to one of his piano sessions. It's also on video at the moment because House... can't figure out how to change it to just audio. He really hates this particular effect. So, anyone in Snowhell who has yet to actually see Dr. Hotstud House will get a view of him. He's a haggard, middle-aged man who's looking closer to just plain 'aged' after more than three months in Norfinbury. He has the tablet propped up where the sheet music would usually go, and keeps his eyes down or closed as he begins to play. He mouths some of the words, brows furrowed and body swaying to the music.

He runs through that. And then, because he's not going to be able to play and 'talk' to people at the same time, he moves into another tune before stopping and checking for responses.]

Comments

[jumpthegun]

Football. Y'know with a... soccer?

[Please don't be so American that that one registers instead, Fiona.]

[plundering]

[Watson, please stop making her laugh, her ribs are killing her.]

With a soccer. Relax, I know what football is. Just not footy.

[devoutish]

[There's a long pause here, because he definitely has a particular one in mind. It's one that seems oddly fitting, here and now.

When he starts up again, his voice is more somber - even a little melancholy. He sings the whole thing through, instead of just a verse or two.]

We meet ‘neath the sounding rafters
And the walls around are bare
As they echo to our laughter
T’would seem that the dead were there

So stand to your glasses steady
It's all we have left to prize
Quaff a cup to the dead already
And one to the next man who dies

Time was when we frowned on others
We thought we were wiser then
But now, let us all be brothers
For we never may meet again

Cut off from the land that bore us
Betrayed by the land we find
The good men have gone before us
And only the dull left behind

So stand to your glasses steady
This world is a web of lies
Then here’s to the dead already
And one to the next man who dies

Here’s an end to this mournful story
For death is a distant friend
So here’s to a life of glory
And a laurel to crown each end

[plundering]

[Well, she asked for it.]

Damn. You weren't kidding. Fitting though, huh?

[devoutish]

I've heard it. I don't go to pubs much.

[devoutish]

What's a pop song?

[devoutish]

Bit eerie, innit.

[jumpthegun]

[John sobers at the song, as well. He has something in mind, as well. There had been enough Irishmen in his crew to learn this one.]

Of all the money that ever I spent
I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I've done
Alas, it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit
To memory now I can't recall
So, fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Of all the comrades that ever I've had
They're sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that ever I've had
Would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all

[jumpthegun]

Well, now you know. I'm a teacher, really, Fiona.

[plundering]

I'm never calling it "footy". Ever.

[devoutish]

[Alfie actually turns on the video and gives him a quick little salute. Not a bad choice, Watson.]

[jumpthegun]

Popular music. It's a genre like jazz or folk. It's sort of... upbeat? Probably what you'd think of as like theater music in your time?

[devoutish]

Give us one of those, then.

[If you dare.]

[jumpthegun]

Oh, c'mon! It's not that bad. People'll know what you're talking about if you're with the right crew. [The British crew.]

[plundering]

You two know how to dampen the mood, huh?

[Her baseline mood is already low because of Vaughn, so this is a defense mechanism, really.]

[jumpthegun]

[Watson gives Alfie a brief salute back. He doesn't particularly like Alfie... except when he does, but this is one of those moments that he feels like he's actually connecting honestly with the man.]

[plundering]

Yeah, yeah. Definitely a crew I want to hang out with.

[jumpthegun]

[John snorts.]

You owe me a lot of drinks to cover me actually being drunk enough to sing these, mate.

[But there's one he thinks Alfie might enjoy.]

It was bad, called obscene
And the rich were so mean
Stately homes for the Lords
Golden lawns, village green
Victoria was my queen

Victoria, Victoria, Victoria
I was born, lucky me
In the land that I love
Though I'm poor, I am free
When I go I shall fight
For this land I will die
Let her sun never set on

Victoria, Victoria, Victoria
Canada to India
Australia to Cornwall
Singapore to Hong Kong
From the West to the East
From the rich to the poor
Victoria loved them all

Victoria, Victoria, Victoria

[jumpthegun]

There're happier songs I can sing for you.

[That's offered looking over at her, rather than speaking into the tablet.]

[jumpthegun]

We've got the better accents.

[devoutish]

Very patriotic.

[jumpthegun]

Figured you'd like patriotic. Better than the one that goes 'if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,' yeah?

[plundering]

Yeah, sure.

[Hey, he's getting a little smile again!]

Impress me.

[plundering]

As opposed to who? Me?

[jumpthegun]

[He holds up a hand and puts on a mock-innocent expression.]

I'm not the one who said it.