The Rhythm Of A Memory

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Where: Rylie's Townhouse

When: September 17, 2012; Afternoon

What: Rylie unlocks a door and finds some of her memories.

Rylie's apartment is loud today. Music plays over the sound system that Rylie must have just recently discovered. But the girl herself isn't downstairs, even though she's clearly home. There's evidence of something having burned in the kitchen, a pan with charred remains sits in the sink. Her shoes have been kicked off by the couch and her keys sit in a bowl near the door.

But Rylie is up in her room, the door open and a box sitting out in front of her. It's dusty, so wherever it's been, she hasn't seen it in a while. But then, it's been a while since before this whole time traveling thing happened.

Though Zan's been a fairly constant presence, he does leave on occasion. Either to let Rylie have time to herself or his own various responsibilities. Today it was school, as it often is. But since he's been staying at her place for so long, letting himself in is like second nature. His own set of keys finds its way into his pocket as his backpack is lowered into its seemingly usual place near the door. A curious look is cast at the haphazard state of the entry and kitchen before he starts following the music.

"Rylie," he calls, over the tunes. The living room is given a once over and he double checks the kitchen before starting up the stairs. Knuckles wrap against the bedroom door when he finds it, and he calls out a quieter, "Hey."

Turning at the noise, Rylie greets him with a smile. "Hey there." Picking up a remote, she turns the music down to a more reasonable level. "When'd you get here?" She pulls herself up to her feet to come over and kiss him. It's a better hello. "I hope you aren't hungry, because I'm a worse cook than you remember."

"Just now," Zan answers with a smile. He slides an arm around her shoulders when she comes over, and returns her kiss. "I saw," he goes on with a chuckle. But then he shrugs, as though it didn't matter. "I can fix us something later. Or we can go out. Having a good day other than experimental cooking?"

"Or we could order in for ultimate laziness." Rylie keeps her arms around him, too, and smiles crookedly up his way. "It's been good. I found some keys, been learning things like my social security number, all very exciting." It shouldn't surprise anyone that that particular task didn't kick anything into gear.

"But speaking of, do you know what's in that room?" she points down the hall to Rylie's ever so mysterious second bedroom. Given that she's never offered it for Zan to sleep in while here, it's not likely there's anything like a bed in there. "I found the key to unlock it in the side table, but I haven't gone in their yet. You're sure I'm not a mass murderer, right? I'm not gonna find a giant fridge with body parts, am I?"

"We could order in." Zan smiles and tilts his head a little to look at her while she talks about her findings. "Sounds far better than spending a day in lectures," he says as his gaze follows her pointing finger to the second bedroom. Even his expression turns curious, moreso than when he was first invited upstairs.

"I think that's your fabled music room," he answers after a moment. Then he grins briefly and shakes his head. "Pretty sure. I'm still alive, after all. No fridge that I'm aware of. But that should be where your drum kit is kept, and probably a ton of other music things if I had to venture a guess." He gives her a little bit of a squeeze. "Go check it out?"

“Fabled, huh," Rylie says with a bit of a chuckle. "Well, might as well look into it." She pulls a key ring out of her pocket, slinging it around a finger before she goes to unlock the door. And when it opens, Rylie's obsession with music is laid out a little more clearly than she's admitted before.

The walls of the room are black, but the color acts a as frame for displays and frames with various vintage music paraphernalia from any number of eras. The rarest items sit in locked glass cases, with the exception of a record collection that sits near a record player. But set apart from all that, in it's little corner, is her drums. It isn't like a normal set, there are way too many pieces. It sprawls in it's corner, clearly the prize piece in the room. There are other instruments around, too, and a set up where she much write music, but the drums are the favorite child. Clearly.

A few steps in the door, Rylie stops to look over all this, and it is apparently a little overwhelming, because she just has to stare at it all for a moment. "So… I'm into music a little, huh?"

Zan hangs back a bit, letting Rylie go ahead first. He follows a couple of steps behind and stops in the doorway, allowing his gaze to wander over the room. Curiosity and wonderment both mix within as he looks on from the threshold, admiring the collection and the drums especially. Fabled indeed.

"Just a little," he answers, a faint, gentle teasing in his words. He takes another couple of steps further into the room to stand at her shoulder, head turning and look slowly moving over the arrangement of displays. When his perusing takes his gaze back to Rylie he watches her, smiling.

Rylie smirks at the tease and steps over to run her fingers along the glass of one display case, slowly making her way over toward the drums. When she finds the collection of drum sticks, some in better condition than others, she picks up a new pair.

"So I didn't ever let you in here, huh?" she asks as she twirls one of the sticks between her fingers. "Maybe I was embarrassed, it's a little… thorough." The collection, that is.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Zan says quietly. "Music a big part of who you are, your passion. And we talked about it a few times, coming up here. Maybe have you show me a few things on the drums. But I kind of saw it like your room, your space. And that you'd bring me up here when you were ready."

His shoulders lift a little as his arms fold over his chest, a little shrug for his perceptions. And he offers a small, gentle smile. "I already knew you were a beautiful singer," he continues, "and that first time seeing you on stage, you really looked alive. More than when you're DJ'ing the raves." Then he nods toward the kit. "That's a boss of a drum kit. You should try it out."

"It is a bit Fortress of Solitude," Rylie agrees with a nod. But she looks back to the drums, then to him at the suggestion. "I don't remember how to play, you want me to just bang around on it?" It's asked with a smirk, but there's worry in the question, too.

She rounds it, though, sitting down on the little stool and sort of staring at the set up. "That DJ thing is a whole other mess to worry about. People have been leaving messages about working their parties. The last party I remember got blown up in 1955."

"Try closing your eyes and see if your body remembers." Zan, as ever, seems calm and even accepting that she may not remember. No fault in trying, and keep going whatever the outcome. He steps around carefully, angling himself so he can see over her shoulder without getting in the way of any drumming. "Just …play how you feel," he suggests with an encouraging grin.

"You were a hit," he goes on about the parties. "Pretty popular, if a little under the table. We can worry about those later, though. Maybe go to one this weekend. They're pretty fun."

Rylie closes her eyes, but just sort of sits there holding the drum sticks for a few moments, nodding when Zan speaks. She's still for just a moment before she starts just hitting things randomly, making a lot of noise, but not much in the way of music.

However, there's a moment when it shifts, one second it's just banging and noise making and the next, a melody emerges. And Rylie plays it for just a little while before her eyes pop open and she drops her sticks and has to scramble a bit to get them back.

Not having Rylie's passion or talent for music, there's little Zan can do but offer encouragement. He knows how to play, but couldn't expertly tell one drum face from another. For him, it's always been a hobby. And for a minute he simply watches without intruding.

His lips part before the cacophony switches to melody, but if he'd been about to say anything a wondering grin fills the space. He gives her a moment to recover the sticks and herself, and tempers his grin a little before quietly, cautiously speaking, "Rylie?"

"Sorry, I just…" Rylie cuts off, eyeing the drums for a moment before looking at Zan again. "I was writing stuff. For the movie. I mean, music writing, not writing writing." She stands up, though, stepping away from the drums and setting the sticks down a bit sharply. Memories flickering back into the mind must be a little unsettling.

Her hands run down the leg of her jeans as she crosses over to where Zan is standing. "That was a little weird," she adds, and if she's trying to be flippant, it's failing entirely.

Zan watches her carefully, expression sobering into concern. He flicks a quick look to the drums, the sticks, then back to Rylie when she approaches. He steps forward to meet her half way and reaches to gently grip her shoulders. "You okay," he asks quietly, tilting his head to catch her expression. "Sounds like you're remembering."

"Yeah, I'm okay," Rylie says, not quite sounding it, at first, but when she looks up to meet his gaze, a smile spreads over her features. "I think I know what we need to do for dinner," she adds, stepping closer to slide her arms around his waist. "How do you feel about burgers and shakes?"

Whether or not she remembers everything, it seems she's remembered some important things.

Her smile brings out Zan's own, though it doesn't entirely hide his worry. His arms slide around her shoulders when she moves in closer, to bring her against his chest. He holds her for a minute, silent, but after he tilts his head enough to look at her without moving his arms.

"Burgers and shakes sounds awesome right now," he answers finally.

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