It's his day off but Jax occasionally takes on side-projects. You know, for something to do. Something that isn't spending his morning playing video games (as fun as that downtime is). Something to get him out his apartment and running into people.
He enjoys the opportunity to work on things that might not make it to the garage. Today, he's out his door with a bigger water bottle than usual. And it doesn't automatically hit Jax that something is up. He's out very bright and early this morning. Most people are still asleep. Eventually, however, as he makes his way through town - with the occasional pit stops - he notices things are a little ... broadway.
A little too broadway. And, at first, he just manages to avoid being pulled into pop-dance sequences that'd make Britney weep tears of joy. Sure, he stops a little. He oogles, a lot. He caught sight of the baker doing the tango. How could he not? But he keeps out of it. At first.
And Jax starts to think that whatever is going on? Well, maybe it's skipped him. He's glad of it. Because while he's not bad with a tune, he's not into self-embarrassment. (Most of the time) It doesn't hit Jax right away how eerily pitch-perfect everyone is. Or that the scratching in his throat was more than an incoming cold.
It doesn't quite hit him until - crouched down by the motorcycle he's repairing - half way through using his toolbox and wrench as a drum kit while he literally whistles as he works. Sing us a song, the piano man.
It's been a hard day of work. Craving something simple but delish, he heads to Dinah's. The first thing he spots - after his eye catches a smiling waiter's - is a bold sign restricting Tom Jones over the jukebox. After a day of randomly belting out tunes, he can't help a chuckle of appreciation tinged with relief.
From what he's noticed, he doesn't actually need a song to play to feel inspired. However, there is no reason to give this impulsive desire to sing - his or anyone else's - any encouragement. Jax settled himself and cleared his throat. He'd managed to make it from his last job to the diner without any incidents. The way his throat was insistently scratching him, he had a feeling it wouldn't last through dinner. But he could hope. He could really and truly hope.
The cute waiter came up and handed him a handed him a menu. Jax opened his mouth to ask for the special, momentarily caught up in brown eyes, and out came: Woo, baby boy, what's your name? Let me talk to you, let me buy you a drink.
Could the ground open up for him? Could he just turn into a puddle, the ground open up, and just swallow him? Could it? Please.
(Because it couldn't have at least been Usher?)
Take it back now y'all One hop this time, one hop this time
Despite the day, Jax finds himself at the B-Side. The outbreak of singing and dancing, while highly annoying, hadn't quite rubbed him in a bad way. In fact, it had left him wanting to find albums he hadn't checked out in ages. Old diddy's that used to play out while he was a kid. He's searching through the classic R & B section, when a song comes on. Something he can't help but shake his hips to.
Wildcard; [ if you want to do something different. just let me know; PM me or plurk me @backseatsmallfry. i am good with anything and everything (though jax would prefer hip hop, r and b, soul, and motown. he does know his disney music too :-D). i am fine with prose or brackets. ]
Jefferson Jackson | OTA
It's his day off but Jax occasionally takes on side-projects. You know, for something to do. Something that isn't spending his morning playing video games (as fun as that downtime is). Something to get him out his apartment and running into people.
He enjoys the opportunity to work on things that might not make it to the garage. Today, he's out his door with a bigger water bottle than usual. And it doesn't automatically hit Jax that something is up. He's out very bright and early this morning. Most people are still asleep. Eventually, however, as he makes his way through town - with the occasional pit stops - he notices things are a little ... broadway.
A little too broadway. And, at first, he just manages to avoid being pulled into pop-dance sequences that'd make Britney weep tears of joy. Sure, he stops a little. He oogles, a lot. He caught sight of the baker doing the tango. How could he not? But he keeps out of it. At first.
And Jax starts to think that whatever is going on? Well, maybe it's skipped him. He's glad of it. Because while he's not bad with a tune, he's not into self-embarrassment. (Most of the time) It doesn't hit Jax right away how eerily pitch-perfect everyone is. Or that the scratching in his throat was more than an incoming cold.
It doesn't quite hit him until - crouched down by the motorcycle he's repairing - half way through using his toolbox and wrench as a drum kit while he literally whistles as he works.
Sing us a song, the piano man.
It's been a hard day of work. Craving something simple but delish, he heads to Dinah's. The first thing he spots - after his eye catches a smiling waiter's - is a bold sign restricting Tom Jones over the jukebox. After a day of randomly belting out tunes, he can't help a chuckle of appreciation tinged with relief.
From what he's noticed, he doesn't actually need a song to play to feel inspired. However, there is no reason to give this impulsive desire to sing - his or anyone else's - any encouragement. Jax settled himself and cleared his throat. He'd managed to make it from his last job to the diner without any incidents. The way his throat was insistently scratching him, he had a feeling it wouldn't last through dinner. But he could hope. He could really and truly hope.
The cute waiter came up and handed him a handed him a menu. Jax opened his mouth to ask for the special, momentarily caught up in brown eyes, and out came: Woo, baby boy, what's your name? Let me talk to you, let me buy you a drink.
Could the ground open up for him? Could he just turn into a puddle, the ground open up, and just swallow him? Could it? Please.
(Because it couldn't have at least been Usher?)
Take it back now y'all
One hop this time, one hop this time
Despite the day, Jax finds himself at the B-Side. The outbreak of singing and dancing, while highly annoying, hadn't quite rubbed him in a bad way. In fact, it had left him wanting to find albums he hadn't checked out in ages. Old diddy's that used to play out while he was a kid. He's searching through the classic R & B section, when a song comes on. Something he can't help but shake his hips to.
Wildcard;
[ if you want to do something different. just let me know; PM me or plurk me @backseatsmallfry. i am good with anything and everything (though jax would prefer hip hop, r and b, soul, and motown. he does know his disney music too :-D). i am fine with prose or brackets. ]