"...no matter how near you'll be, you'll never belong to me, but I can dream, can't I? Can't I pretend I'm locked in the bend of your embrace? For dreams are just like wine, and I am drunk with mine." Daisy's door is closed, but the doors here are thin, and hers isn't locked. It's rarely locked when she's in. Sounds like some very quiet finger-picking she's singing along to, and there's no overdrive, and the tone is very fat - almost like to mimic a double bass. "I'm aware my heart is a sad affair - there's much disillusion there, but I can dream, can't I?" Talk about ironic lyrics. Matt sings along almost automatically, trying the door rather than knocking and poking his head round. "Hello?" Daisy glances up in surprise and equally almost automatically changes her song. She grins up at Matt and pops off her capo, going for a sickly psychedelic half-pop version of an old favorite. "Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup, they slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe. Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my open mind, posessing and caressing me - jai guru deva om. Nothing's gonna change my world, nothing's gonna change my world..." Sneaking on inside and closing the door behind him, Matt smiles briefly at the change of song. He looks rather better than usual, though there are hints of the budding alcoholic in his bloodshot eyes, and as he wanders over to take a seat on the floor beside Daisy he remains steady on his feet. One knee drawn up to his chest, he rests his chin on it like a schoolboy and listens, watching the movement of Daisy's fingers. Oh, Matt. "Nothing's gonna change my world, nothing's gonna change my world." Is that a little more emphatic than it should be? Possibly. Or possibly it's just an enthusiastic rendition. And she's skipping a verse, the shameless hussy. "Sounds of laughter, shades of earth are ringing through my open views, inciting and inviting me. Limitless undying love which shines about me like a million suns, it calls me on and on across the universe..." She trails off and eyes Matt. "How're you?" He doesn't move, even to lift his head, smiling at her sleepily. "I'm good, actually. You're in good voice today. There are nine thousand screaming teenagers outside the building who want your autograph." "How about you, love? D'you want my autograph?" grins Daisy, trying to ignore how sweet he looks when he's sleepy. "The screaming teenagers I could do without, to be honest. It's why I went into robotics. No one likes a robot. Get time to myself that way," she jokes. "I could give you mine but that'd devalue my prescriptions." Matt lifts his gaze from the guitar to Daisy's face. "You know I tried to pick a fight with a Volunteer last night." "Idiot," says the girl affectionately, setting her guitar back on its stand with an impressively agile twist of her torso, then stretching her legs out on the floor so her feet are well within poking distance of Matt. "I see by the fact that you're mobile that he had more sense than you." "He argued me down by being a sober and reasonable human being. The bastard." Matt reaches out idly to catch hold of one of Daisy's toes. Fine, then, she pokes with her other foot. "So no fight for you, eh? Better off," says Daisy practically. "I like your face the way it is. Don't need any Volunteers rearranging it for you. What else you been up to?" "Sleeping," says Matt promptly, catching at her ankle and then just leaving his hand there. "It's a surprisingly effective substitute for caffeine. And I was in surgery until about an hour ago." "I'm sorry." It's quite sincere, also concerned. "Did it turn out all right?" Daisy tries rather hard not to look at the hand on her ankle, but it only makes her feel the hand on her ankle all the more - so she looks, and a half-smile tugs at her mouth. "Hm? Oh, ayuh, fine. Routine, heart bypass, but I'm not really a cardiac sorta guy, so I had the specialist frowning over my shoulder the whole time. I forget how to tie knots when people are critiquing so I told him to go away. That did not go down well." Matt absently rubs a thumb across the skin of her ankle, oh-so-lightly. Tease. Daisy moves her other foot, curls her toes, prods at Matt's leg. "I would imagine it didn't," she snickers, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "And I bet you said it just like that, said 'go away, you bother me' or something. Did he leave crankily, or stay crankily?" "He left crankily." Matt takes hold of her other foot too, then turns himself around and scrambleslides sideways across the floor to sit comfortably in front of Daisy's chair, between her legs. That's what you get for surrendering your feet. "But I'm sure he'll put in a complaint. Again." Ack! Hey! Who said you could do that? "Complains a lot, does he?" Fine - if you're going to surrender your hair like that, it's going to get played with. How would you like some dreadlocks, shaggy man? "You ever get in trouble for those complaints?" That's it, keep talking about work. Is she playing with my hair?...that feels kinda nice. Matt is entirely too trusting, closing his eyes. "Well, they tell me off sometimes, but they won't get rid of me. I'm the best they've got and they know it." "I bet you can get away with murder," says Daisy, then blinks at the incongruity. She lets out a silly giggle. "So to speak." She does a bit of braiding, yes, but is good enough to undo it when she's done. There's a sharp little intake of breath up there, and her hands drop. "Listen here...you...ah...can get me a beer, right? Seeing how I've got a person in the way." "But I'm sitting," Matt protests, half-heartedly. He's already getting up, though, using Daisy's knees as leverage. "A beer for Madam. Does Madam require anything else?" He soft-shoes over to the fridge, in good cheer. No. Because Daisy doesn't need anything. Or anyone. Nope. Especially not beautiful, silly, funny-looking, slouching, alcoholic you. "Well, if you'd like one, you're always welcome," she offers lightly, stretching lazily. "You say that now, but will you respect me in the morning?" Matt collects a beer for Daisy and one for himself, then tapdances back over. It has limited success due to the wearing of sneakers. "But first, a kiss, or I shall keep it all for myself." Leaning forward, Daisy gives Matt a smirk deserving of a femme fatale. Lowered lids, head tilted back slightly, almost looking down her nose. "Who says I respect you now, Doctor Pierce? Mother always told me never to fall for a dancing surgeon." Then the smirk is a grin and she stands up - he'll only have to stoop a little instead of a lot, to kiss her. Luckily, she doesn't even realize what she said. It's not until he's already leaned down to kiss her that Matt processes it either. There is a moment's faltering, almost pulling back, and then he decides to ignore it, the kiss becoming more insistent. Forget that, what she just said, you didn't hear it and she was kidding anyway, joking around, like people do. He breaks off finally and passes over the beer, breathing a little ragged. "Okay, I need to sit down, I'm almost asleep on my feet here." Daisy takes it, popping it open quickly, not noticing the falter. Well - no. Purposely not noticing the falter. She smiles brightly, like sunshine on a cloudy day...gah! Enough with the old songs. "Take my chair...please." It's so not funny out of context, which is what makes it funny in a sardonic, pop will eat itself way. It gets a chuckle. Matt flops into the chair and makes to grab Daisy with his non-beer-holding hand and pull her gently down with him. Let's both sit, we are smallish people. Ooh, hey, don't make me - "You're going to make me spill!" laughs Daisy, letting him tug her down into the seat. She leans back against Matt and grins a little, taking a sip of her beer - carefully. And then her smile fades, where he can't see it - facing away and all. "You're very disreputable, d'you know." Beer is gulped and set aside. Matt makes to link his arms comfortably around her. "I know. Last time I wore a suit was to Mom's funeral, I was eight. I don't think it'd fit me now." "It would certainly look interesting." You're so comfortable. And Daisy can't think about that at all. She falls silent, biting her lip. "Well, I've lost weight since then." Matt is joking about that much, at least. "You're pretty great, you know." "Am I? I hadn't noticed," grins Daisy, looking sideways, tilting her head so she can see Matthew's face, so very close. "I knew I was fantastic, but great? I believe you're trying to inflate my ego, Matt Pierce." "Is it working?" Matt smiles at her, meeting her blue eyes with his. "Naturally, dear boy. You do realize you'll never be rid of me at this rate." Daisy takes another sip of beer and breaks into song again. "A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend who'll tease is better - our thoughts compressed, which makes us blessed, and makes for stormy weather. A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend who bleeds is better. My friend confessed he passed the test and we will never sever." She wrinkles her nose a bit. "Placebo lyrics are fun, but so...I don't know. I like older things better." "The water is wide," Matt obliges, "I can't cross o'er - and neither have I wings to fly. Give me a boat that can carry two. We both shall row, my love and I." Ancient ballad, anyone? He manages to make it sound rather sweet, singing quietly and just a little off-key. Again with the half-smile, and Daisy sings right back. Nothing like saying things in a very roundabout, completely harmless fashion. "Seen all good things and bad running down the hill, all so battered and brought to the ground. I am hungry again, I am drunk again, all the money I owe to my friends when I'm like this. How can you be smiling, singing, how can you be sure? How can you be sure? If you walk out the door, will I see you again? If so much of me lies in your eyes. How can you be sure? How can you be sure I don't want you? How can you be sure I don't want you anymore?" Tangent. "I know they're a bit later, but I'm utterly in love with Thom Yorke's falsetto. You ever listen to Radiohead?" "Not my kind of music. All that wailing. Like things aren't bad enough already." Matt considers a moment, then sings. "Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide - voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time. The night is my companion, and solitude my guide. Oh, could I spend forever here and not be satisfied? And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard I'll take your breath away. And after, I'd wipe away the tears. Just close your eyes, dear." It's directed to the ceiling, with no inflection to suggest he's putting thought into the words. Beautiful that he's looking at the ceiling, because Daisy's not blinking and her eyes are quite bright. No. _No_, her head tells her guts. You know better, girl. "When you're weary, feeling small, when tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all. I'm on your side when times get rough, and friends just can't be found. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down - like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down. When you're down and out, when you're on the street, when evening falls so hard - I'll comfort you. I'll take your part when darkness comes and pain is all around. Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down." She sets down her beer and settles down on Matt even more immovably than she was settled before, then adds, "But only because you're good in bed." "Oh, of course." He's comfortable now, shifting his weight to let her settle more easily. "When you remember me - if you remember me - I hope you'll see it's not the way I want it to be. Or I'd be with you now, but wherever you go, my love goes with you." He's still not really thinking, just enjoying the closeness. He's good at not thinking. "Keep on smiling, keep on shining, even though you know you wanna cry. I tried to love you, but looking in my eyes, you saw promises and lies too many times." Oh, is -that- what you think it is? Is that all? "Perfect, I couldn't feel more perfect, a perfect mess I can never seem to fix. What if I break down? What if I break down? I'll never be the same again, you'll find me out. I've found a perfect place to hide out, a perfect place no one wants to know about. I want to feel safe, I want to feel safe, but I want to feel free, can I feel both? Do you see me? You've seen the mess you've made me. No one else cares about me as much as I do. I need to find something, need to find something, just one honest voice to reach inside, help me hold on. I don't hear you, I don't hear you, so I'm talking to myself, how long can this go on?" Daisy sings very softly, and her hands hesitantly slip over Matt's, linked over her belly. Say something. Say - "Fantastic band, that. Utterly underrated. Called Playground Psychotic, for some reason. The band, that is." "Playground Psychotic. That's a good name. All children are nuts anyway." Matt closes his eyes. This is comfortable, and he's tired. "You smell nice, y'know." Oh, please don't. You're going to make me crazy, much crazier than I've ever been before. "Might be the shampoo," says Daisy, a smile in her voice that doesn't stretch to her face. "Or maybe it's Eau de WD-40." There's a short pause, and she says with a slightly off tone in her voice, like she's willing it not to tremble, "You still smell nice." "Can't be the antiseptic. Must be the suspect aftershave I got for three Christmases ago." Matt hugs her closer, squeezing briefly. "I should probably go to bed." "...room in there for an extra body, or does that only work in the shower stall?" Oh, Christ, she sounds so innocent about that, doesn't she? Perfectly casual. Casual is all either of them want this to be, right? "I guess I could make room for one more. If you're very lucky I might even share the blankets." Matt slides one hand under her overalls under the arm. "Daisy, you're disgracefully overdressed." Is it ironic that this is the safe part? No, it's not. It's actually kind of pathetic, but it's a song so many have sung throughout history that someone should write the definitive edition and have done with it. "So I am!" Suppose it's my bed again. "All right, say when," says Daisy obligingly, grinning wickedly and helping out a bit. And fade.