Until Lambs Become Lions- Mumford & Sons

Chapter Eleven- Things Happen

 "So I reckon you're not from Texas, judging by your voice."

"Ah, no. Sorry. I've got no country accent or farmland roots or anything. I grew up on the East Coast... In the suburbs."
There was a quick silence as I watched his face. We both started laughing at my mention of "the suburbs' and he even started pounding the table with one of his hands as he laughed.

"Hahaha-wooo. I'm sorry, that was just- that was funny." he exclaimed, his mouth open and his cheeks ruddy. "But, you were serious, then?"
He collected himself, clasping his hands together, a look of genuine interest following.

"Yep. Not the most interesting upbringing though, I'll tell you that. No "y'alls" or "yeehaws" for me I'm afraid."

"It's not a problem." he assured with a smile. "I wasn't going to go around bragging about a date with a cowgirl, don't worry." I laughed. A date. Oh right, we were on a date. How do these even work? He was sweet though, and I found myself looking at his face again, taking in all of his features with my eyes. Oddly enough as a short silence continued, he seemed to be doing the same.

"So, erm.. What brings you to be in London anyway?" He was looking at me right in the eyes, which sort of made me uncomfortable. It shouldn't have, granted he had beautiful eyes and he was a real sweet guy and all, but I was just such an awkward person, so I tended to be a bit evasive with eye contact.

"Um.." I glanced at my hands. He was still looking right at my face, I felt it. I looked back up, and my breath caught I my throat. Yep, he was still gazing at me keenly??? "I dunno. I just didn't want to be in America any longer. I needed a change of scenery, I guess."

He nodded. "Makes sense. I've basically lived here, or in the general viscidity of London my whole life." He gestured widely with his hands as he said this, as if he was actually a hundred years old, and not a mildly sweaty 20-something with an amazing voice. "Well, I suppose with some exceptions. I lived in Edinburgh for a spell, in my days at university, but that didn't really last too long. I was actually born in America as well, though it's not like I can remember a thing."

"Oh yeah? Where at?"

He chuckled. "Anaheim, actually. California. My, my folks were doing some work over there for about a year. I grew up on this side of the pond." He peered out, over the booth, perhaps at the stage itself as he finished his little shpeel about himself, and I had definitely noted that he grew softer and quieter as he mentioned his parents. In other words, I knew I didn't need to prod about them.

"Cool." And then there was silence, well, as silent as the bar could be. It was comfortable in a sense, and I found myself looking at the greasy black hair on Marcus' head. He had sweat a lot, but it was sort of endearing?? Because it made him more human, and in some twisted way I liked the idea of people not being perfect. I didn't fall in love with a person's flaws per se, but it reminded me that they were only human.

"So.. How'd you come to know Ben anyhow?" Right. He was pretty good at engaging conversation, after all. "I mean I'm friends with most of Ben's friends, well not all of them of course, but I don't think he's ever mentioned you until, well now I suppose." And I found myself curious as to how Ben had told his friend about me, because for me I was to be "just right" for his 'best mate' who needed a rebound or something. I mean, I wasn't really killing it in the relationship department, but being a mere rebound was quite frankly a first. Did he give Marcus some dudebro statement like "C'mon man, when's the last time you've got some?" But that seemed silly exiting my sort-of-employer's mouth, given his kind voice and overall lack of seeming very 'dudebro'. And Marcus was indeed expecting an answer.

"Well, um I work for Communion music.. And part of my job is finding new talent, so a band I guess I 'discovered'," I air quoted at this, feeling quite silly and tired of my job sounding so silly, "Was having a gig at a Communion night, and a ton of people were there to hear them, and like evaluate me." Marcus chuckled at that, which made me a bit surprised.

"So instead of firing you, he says, go on a date with my best mate, yeah? The band isn't too bad!" And he laughed loudly at this, a loud, Ricky Gervais type laugh, but he was being a bit cynical and I reminded myself that if he was sad he couldn't really be rude on purpose. Right.

"No! I mean yeah, eventually he said," and I decided flattery would be the best distraction, "how nice his friend was, and like "oh you guys should totally date just 'cause." but I mean he said that the band was good and we discussed some marketing stuff an promotions with the band and he stops by every now and then at the building, so yeah." And he rarely stopped by, but he wanted to give me details on the date, and make sure I wasn't backing out the other day while I was setting up a social media account for Elevator Sheers, but that didn't seem to be the right thing to say to my pity blind date.

"Oh, cool, cool." He nodded, his lips pursing into a "Hmph" sort of look.


"D'know what? I'm so sorry, I reaaally need to use the bathroom, I'll-I'll be right back." I got up quickly as he chuckled an "alright love," and I must've heard it wrong, I thought, as I pushed
by people, because there was no way he was that British to call a perfect stranger 'love'.

I really did have to pee, and I wouldn't have went, but I'd been holding it since before the show, and didn't want to chance being late to my date. I checked the time as I washed my hands. It was a little past midnight, and my eyes looked tired in the mirror. No one said having a drink after a latenight gig was romantic, but what was I to do? Besides, it was a favor, and Marcus was pretty cute, if not clearly a very talented and intelligent man.

I got back to the booth, intending to make a joke about the stupid glass design again, or perhaps the quality of bar bathrooms, but as I sat down, I observed that Marcus was not completely conscious. As in, his full face was skewed by his palm as he rested his head in his hand, and his eyelids were shut. He was breathing slowly through his nose, and his chest was rising and falling visibly with his waistcoat. He was asleep.