Mercy [Buzzfeed Unsolved]

3. The Illusion of Rest

It wasn't even that late yet, but the mood created by the bar made it feel like it was already 12:00 am outside. Shane supposed it was the jazz that did it - even if he was the one playing it. Something about concerts and live music made time slide into night hours despite how dark the sky was.

Perhaps it was the sentimentality of it all. The dimmed and coloured lights set a tone of their own, as well as with the idle chatter and the clinking of glasses across the entire room. Or, of course, it was because Shane chose to play some of the slower stuff he knew - like Lil' Darlin and I'm Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter - instead of something upbeat like a ragtime or a stride. Funny how much Shane's music was dependent on his feelings.

Whatever. The crowd seemed to like it. The crowd seemed to like Shane. After all, Shane was a regular performer at this gig, and was rather good at what he did nonetheless. Just because the songs were slow didn't mean he wouldn't add fancy decorations here and there.

He could feel everyone's stares on him as his fingers graced over and dug into the piano keys. At this point he was used to it all anyways. A piano bar was meant to be a casual performance area, yet you really still were the star of the night, whether you liked it or not. Even if he didn't sing, as some performers did.

Well, he had to at least try and show off a little bit. The bar wasn't really more full than usual, however, Shane had brought a special guest along. After all, he had already partially bragged to Ryan Bergara about his improvisation skills, so there was no way he could disappoint now.

Today had already been stressful enough. Shane went home after his interrogation and got a few hours of sleep, so he was pretty awake for the time of night. The atmosphere still calmed him though, and let him temporarily forget the impending severity of the case.

He ended the song delicately, holding his hands over the keys as he let the sustain ring. Only when he lifted the pedal did the polite applause begin. Standing up, he nodded politely and offered a brilliant smile, ushering another pianist waiting at the side to take over for him. Shane left quickly, grateful to the other performer for diverting the audience's attention.

Scanning the crowd, he spotted Ryan at a booth a little ways away, barely visible despite the stained glass lamp over the table. Genuinely smiling when Ryan noticed him and waved him over, he made his way through a maze of chairs and tables to meet his guest.

"You're absolutely incredible- dude, that was amazing back there," Ryan gushed, watching Shane slide across the bench across from him.

"You don't have to flatter me," he grinned.

"That kind of music really takes some talent. I bet I could never do it."

"I bet you've never tried."

"That's not the point, Shane."

"Shane? Would you like anything tonight?" A waitress had interrupted their conversation, pen and pad in her hands. "And he's right, you really did spectacularly out there this evening."

"Oh, please, I just do what I have to," Shane rolled his eyes, "And I'm feeling like it's a bourbon kind of night tonight."

"Anything else?"

"No, I think that's good for now."

"And you, sir?" she gestured to Ryan.

"A beer would be nice, thanks."

"What kind?"

"Anything on tap. Perhaps an Alexander Keith's if you have it."

"Alright. I'll be right back, you two." She left them alone to go complete their orders.