Backdated to Catfish 17

[dredefulchilde]

Who: Joss and Tony
What: ‘Tis the season of giving, or something like that.
Where: Santa’s Tony’s workshop, Catfish 17

Joscelin is just sitting down to breakfast (oatmeal and fresh fruit, with a side of Type O) when he gets a message from Tony instructing him to go to the workshop. It’s not exactly unusual, but it certainly isn’t part of the routine Joss has established for himself over the past several weeks. And Joscelin, at his age, is nothing if not a creature of habit.

He finishes as quickly as he can and heads over, knocking lightly on the doorframe.

“You rang?”

Comments

[dredefulchilde]

Joss doesn't mind the kiss. Hell, he might not have even noticed it. He's touched by the gesture.

"B-but--" He's laughing all of a sudden. "It wasn't December back home. It was May."

He holds the violin out, examining it. Yes, it's small. But it will do.

"What shall I play?"

[runs_on_batteries]

"What does that matter?" Tony asked with a shake of his head. "It's 'Catfish'. Who the hell knows what that is supposed to be compared to back home? We did the Thanksgiving nonsense, so clearly we needed to do Christmas next."

He was blaming this on the holiday even though he would've purchased this item for Joss no matter what the month was supposed to be. The boy had needed his violin and this was the first chance to get things like that.

At the question, Tony paused, unsure what to say back. "Devil Went Down to Georgia? I don't know. Whatever you like."

[dredefulchilde]

"I don't celebrate Thanksigiving," Joss points out. "I'm English."

But Christmas makes as much sense as anything. "If it's Christmas now, it will be my birthday early next month. The sixth of January. I was born on Twelfth Night..." he does a quick mental calculation. "...six hundred and eighty-one years ago, assuming the year will be 2020. There's some Julian to Gregorian calendar nonsense that I don't care to play with, so I wasn't actually born on the sixth of January as we know it back in 1339, but it will have to do." He's babbling again. "What year is it for you, back home?"

He starts tuning the violin as they talk. He wasn't born with perfect pitch, but he developed it over the long years. Music has always been part of his life, even back when he was still human. Once a choir boy, always a choir boy?

"I don't know that one," he laughs, then wipes his nose with his sleeve. How long has he been crying? "But..."

He launches into the technically challenging Russian Dance from Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake for a couple of minutes, before switching abruptly to English country dance fiddling. The violin has excellent tone, despite being made for a child even smaller than he.

[runs_on_batteries]

"No, not specifically you. The train. Or did you miss the sudden abundance of pumpkin flavored goodies around here?" Tony teased, with a grin. He listened with growing curiosity as Joss calculated out his birthday. "Why are you assuming 2020?" He asked. His smile turned humored as he observed the same back and forth about the calendars. What must it be like to have lived across such a long span of time? "I'm from September 2023.. The exact date is a little fuzzy now but I believe it was around the tenth." Nearly dying and his illness during the early weeks of being here had muddled his perfect memory. Whether it was the PTSD from the war he'd been currently in or an affect from the time prior when he'd nearly died, he wasn't sure. Still, he manages to think and talk about these facts without a panic attack. That had to be a personal victory in and of itself.

"Good, it's .. pretty stupid," he admitted about the song he'd suggested. It had been entirely a joke and not something he actually wanted to hear. He hadn't expected Joss to start playing so quickly and- forgive him- but he hadn't expected Joss to play so well either.

Slowly, he sat back in his chair and listened. The first song had a bittersweet, distant look appear on his face as he got lost in the music. The sudden switch jarred him out of that but Tony didn't look put off by it. Instead, he just seemed humored. He clapped earnestly when the song was done. "Bravo! Very impressive, Joss!"

[dredefulchilde]

Joscelin frowns a little, considering. “Why indeed? You see, the multiple worlds thing confuses it a little. Where I’m from, my London, it was May of 2019. It was 2017 in Heaven, somehow. The timeline was off. I’d say that time travel is science fiction but after everything I’ve experienced I’m having a rather difficult time suspending disbelief.”

The boy does play well. He even toured once in the late nineteenth century, pretending to be a tiny prodigy. Even played for some of the minor crowned heads of Europe, though it was in his nastier days and the murder rate went up in every town he visited.

He stops and shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

[runs_on_batteries]

Tony smirked as Joss explained, but he shook his head. "It's not fiction. My last invention before coming here.. well, I guess my last invention period then, is a time machine. We use it to save all those who died, like Peter. That being said, it's a big stretch and we're not from the same world." He could certainly understand why time was a confusing concept around here.

"The proper response is 'thank you', in case you've forgotten in your centuries of living," he sassed at the kid. "But I'm glad you're happy with it. We should have you play sometime over the ICP. Others should hear it."

[dredefulchilde]

“Are you quite certain you’re not a comic book character, Stark?” Joss teases gently. He should talk. He’s a 700 year old undead monster in short pants. “I’m glad it worked, and you got everyone back. How did they all die?”

Ah yes, the elusive thank you.

“What, Tchaikovsky isn’t enough thanks for you? Shall I follow up with some Mozart? Vivaldi? Schubert?” He grins. “Thank you, Stark. I...still don’t know what to say. You’ve given me back something I didn’t realize was missing.

“Music’s always gotten me through even the shittiest of circumstances. Even when I was still human. I was a choir boy, you know. Smallest boy in the cathedral school, but Brother Paul always said my singing and playing were better than the others.”

[runs_on_batteries]

Tony appreciated Joss knowing when to use kid gloves at teasing him though he could use much rough handling normally with the older (appearing) man. He opened his mouth to explain, but just the thought of that monster sent a shudder through him and he shook his head. "Another time." Maybe.

It was better to focus on laughing at Joss' exasperation over the thanks. "I was teasing because then I complimented you and that required a thank you per social convention. It's a vicious cycle. Really, I can understand why you were picking and choosing there. But, no, the Tchaikovsky was a perfect thank you. It was my mother's favorite ballet, so I heard the song often growing up. At the time, of course, I thought it was terribly dull but you don't appreciate things like that very well when you're young." He'd played it for Morgan too, though he hadn't required her to dress to the nines and try and sit through a full performance at age four like he'd had to.

He listened as he learned more about what this gift had meant to the boy and it warmed his heart. "You're a very complex, fascinating little fellow aren't you? Ever consider writing some of your story down?"

[dredefulchilde]

“Ballet is terribly dull, old man,” Joscelin teases again. “But rather less so in the nineteenth century when no one had smartphones.” He leaves the other topic alone. Tony suddenly looks rather haunted and he knows that wound is best left unprobed. For now, at least.

“Not really. I was quite boring as a human. Bastard son of a cleric, meant for the Church just like my father and older brother before me. But I wouldn’t have made it. I was never meant to grow up. The Plague got me, but it could have been any number of diseases that no one in the twenty-first century would ever die of that got me in the end. I was a sickly, frail thing. Born too early—small for my age even in the fourteenth century. It could have been smallpox or measles or scarlet fever that got me, but y. pestis got there first.”

[runs_on_batteries]

Ballet was a much easier topic to focus on. He really appreciated it.

"All that stuff is dull," Tony pointed out. "But if you're doing something else and listening to it, it's not so bad. I remember when we had to go to the orchestra once and it ended up being a four hour affair. I tried to jump off the balcony of our box seats I was so bored. Fortunately that was the last time I had to see anything in that theater." Because he'd gotten banned from it.

"Bet some people would find that really interesting, kid. Might be good therapy too. Pepper always told me to do it but I didn't have the patience.. or stomach for it." This was getting depressing. "You don't know any AC/DC do you?"