Version #1
1984
Bobby sat behind the drum set, twirling his sticks as the entire camp met up in the warehouse. Occasionally he'd call everyone to be in one location all at once to become one, musically that is. Sheila E's band? Present. The Revolution? Always present. Apollonia 6? On time. The Time? Present. Spaces were filled with any other budding projects he's in the process of playing with.
Paul, often referred to with the prefix of St., sat still with a thought. Bold enough to speak aloud, he says, "You guys ever notice how cute Lyric is?" Sheila smirks in his direction, folding her arms across her chest. "What?"
"Maybe you should tell her that," says Lisa as she lights throws a carton of cigarettes into her bag after retrieving a single stick. She nonchalantly places it between her lips.
Miko, Sheila's guitarist, takes a seat directly beside Paul. "I can never get her alone," Paul states.
Though it had never been officially spoken nor acknowledged, Prince and Lyric happen to be attached at the hip. A dynamic duo, some may refer to them as. She's a little new to the environment, however, connections cannot tell time. She blends in with everyone else as if she were brought into this world by the same birther as them all. Minneapolis isn't all that far from Chicago, location plays a role in the immediate connection. What can they say? It's a Mid-West thing. The two skipped and twirled around as if they'd known each other for decades... they'd only become acquainted six whole months ago.
Wendy glances up at the time. Knowing Prince will be entering at any given moment, she throws her strap over her shoulder. As she bends down, reaching for her amp, she is completely honest with Paul. "She's gorgeous. I'm sure you're not the only one who feels that way!" Lisa nods at Wendy's words as she lights her cigarette.
The two are on the exact same page as always. Recently, about two days ago, they were talking. Per usual, Lisa resorted to a long rant of all of the juicy details she's noticed that are in sync with her surroundings. She seems to believe that Prince may or may not have a crush on Lyric. It was mutually called that as long as no one approaches Lyric, the world will never know. They're positive she would never work inferior to him and for that reason, his ways of showing affection have immediately been hindered. By saying others feel the same, Wendy is really saying; Prince feels the same.
"I know," Paul says. "You think she'd give me a chance?"
He looks around the room at the faces of those were listening, those people being only Wendy, Lisa, Sheila, Matt, and Mark.
Lisa shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Try it out? Prince–"
A pair of clicking heels are echoed by a second pair of boot heels that follow behind in perfect sync. Two sets of feet bring in four eyes to take a full scan of the room. The eyes are closed because of the hefty laughter being let out by the two. There they are again, acting as if they're the only two in the entire world. It's an unhealthy habit that is going to take some work to attempt to break. The true question would involve inquiries of whether or not they plan to break the chain they are linking.
"Only if you promise to sing at my wedding," Lyric jokes. "I can be all like, Prince sung at my wedding." She laughs with the flipping of her bang, Prince guffawing in the same exact motion as her. "I'm so serious, dude! Like, I think my guest would totally freak. They'd be all like, oh my fucking pickles, Prince is here. Mr. 1999, the RudeBoy, His Royal Badness!"
Laughing, Prince playfully pushes her in a gentle motion. "Maybe I could be the guy under the alter, that'd really draw the crowd in." His flirting slips off of Lyric's shoulders as they begin to recall that other people actually exist in this world. "Sup, fools." Prince says, taking a seat on an amp. He scoots over enough for Lyric to sit right side him. She complies without a doubt. "We were uh..." Glancing at Lyric, Prince cracks an accidental smile as the two begin to giggle. "Never mind."
