keepsmehonest | 1st Tune

So, I've got to say, I feel a little silly doing this. Talking to a notebook isn't exactly commonplace where I come from. I've been told I can write into it too, but that almost makes it feel a little too personal. Like I'm writing in a journal instead of... broadcasting on the radio or making a phone call to group of people. I'm not exactly much of a writer, either. That'd be my brother, Christy.

[He laughs a little awkwardly before pausing. Yeah, he feels more than a little ridiculous talking to a book. It's part of the reason he's waited so long before addressing Luceti. Aside from taking the time to settle into the extra room in Jilly's studio. And searching the store for his fiddle.]

I'm Geordie Riddell. From Newford. New York. That's in North America. On Earth. [Then, muttered under his breath:] ...I can't believe I'm saying this. [He clears his throat and continues in a louder voice.] Uh, 1979.

I just arrived here a few days ago, but apparently my best friend has been here a lot longer. Some of you may know her. Jilly Coppercorn? Terminally cheerful artist that almost always has some paint stains on her person?

She's the one who suggested I use this... whatever it is... to try and locate my fiddle. It's an old Czech fiddle, manufactured around the turn of the century. Worn but well taken care of, recently restrung, and the initials G.R. are on the left part of the lower bout. The last time I saw it, it was in its case - scruffy, black with a picture of a blonde Victorian woman in her mid-twenties and a list of Irish drinking tunes inside.

They're very important to me - fiddle and case both - so if you've seen anything fitting the description, let me know?

Thanks.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I don't know if I'd consider it so fortunate. That kind of trouble can be overwhelming.

No, it only means it's more likely to fall on someone else.

You?

[There's something of a pause. Of embarrassment, sort of.]

Well. If I can help it, then yes. Better myself than her.

Yeah. I know what that's like.

Remind me to buy you a drink sometime.

...Not quite possible round here.

Right. There's no price tag attached to anything you'd normally buy here.

[A pause.] Jilly would probably suggest we just pretend and go through the motions anyway.

Good God, I haven't even said I've done anything for her. And when I think about it, I haven't, really. She's just done a good deal for me.

You'd think different after listening to Jilly. But no matter what, it's what friends do for each other.

Not all friends.

[He remembers thinking that once. And then he met Jilly and the others in Newford, even rekindled his relationship with his brother. That had made him think twice about what kind of friends he wanted in his life.]

The ones that count ought to.

...Yes. They ought to.

So, that drink. Humor me?

Of course. At Good Spirits, I should think, given I run the other one.

Give me a date and a time and I'll be there. My nights are really flexible right now.

Tomorrow at nine o'clock?

I'll be there.

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