[SP-F1] Amateur Hour <<Earning a Living>>

[Locke 0]

"What makes you think I'm willing to teach you?" shot the brunette. She glared at the player with a thousand mile stare, taking a stab at his callous demeanor with her dagger-like eyes. Her arms were crossed, and she tapped impatiently with delicate fingers against her underlying forearm. The NPC shook her head and made an attempt to shut the door in his face, but was only further annoyed when he caught the door with his hand.

Locke pried the door open the rest of the way before. "I don't have to think," he countered; he planted a foot in the doorway so as to prevent an early conclusion to their discussion, "Geeze, is this how you treat your guests?" He slipped his fingers from the door and gave his hand a thorough wringing.

"What makes you think I consider a guy who broke into my house like that a guest?" asked the girl. Her arm trembled as she strained to close the door in spite of the foot which propped it open. She redoubled her efforts and gave the knob a hefty yank with both hands.

He suppressed a yelp that had threatened to break his air of cool, but retreated his bruised appendage for good measure. "Sorry, old habit." He grasped the door once again with his hand and forced it to stay open long enough to make his point.

"Just hear me out, cutie," said Locke. He threw in another one of his world-class smiles for good measure and felt the pressure of the door finally begin to ease. "There we go!" he exclaimed; his voice carried an encouraging lilt.

[Locke 0]

In spite of his rash tendencies, Locke had not picked his would-be mentor at random. There was a method to the madness. He gave the door another nudge and opened it completely, exposing the room to the sunlight which flitted about on the many instruments sitting inside. Unfortunately, he view was obstructed by a certain female musician, who continued to fill the doorway with her slender frame.

She continued to stand there- arms crossed and face scrunched- making a silent declaration for the man to state his case.

"Let's talk business," Locke began, "I think you'll find that we can be of use to each other." He leaned forward and smiled with both eyes and lips. "Sure, you have talent. Bucket loads of the stuff, in fact. And that's why I had nobody else in mind."

He raised an arm and let his hand rest on the back of his neck. "To be frank, you're an artist, Miss Nakomi," said Locke. He began to lean into his arm, which rested against the frame of the doorway. "But as everyone knows, artists have an awfully bad record of going under-appreciated. Don't you agree?" he asked, with a tilt of his head.