[ Stevie's pissed about playing in the rain, but Eddie can tell it's the kind of pissed that's not that serious, that won't have lasting consequences, that's really more for appearances' sake than anything else. Chrissy shrugs into a poncho just like Eddie thought she would, and then they're traipsing up towards the stage, and Eddie lets herself sink into the familiar anticipatory buzz that's filled her veins every single time she gets up in front of a crowd, all the way from when she was playing to a handful of drunks at the Hideout on a Tuesday night.
It's Saturday, now, and there's more than a handful of people waiting for them to get on stage, but they're probably more than a little drunk. It's close enough.
Riding the wave, Eddie steps up to her mic and bellows a greeting into it, her grin splitting wide at the wave of cheers that comes rolling back towards her. She plays a chord or two, just to feel the vibration sizzle up through her, and her mouth keeps moving totally divorced from her brain, buoying her along through her typical pre-show patter until she gets the signal from the girls that they're ready.
Holding up both hands towards the crowd, ignoring the rain pelting down on her and turning her shirt translucent, Eddie waits a few breaths until things are silent enough for her to start. ]
Why can't you look at me in the eye, my friend, [ she starts, just her scratchy voice to start, before she brings her guitar in beneath to support her, ] you're staring at your feet, aiming at my head. Don't got the decency to say it with your chest... you're staring at your feet, aiming at my head, aiming at my head—
[ Stevie comes in beneath her then, the drums thumping so eagerly Eddie finds herself bouncing on her toes in time, and then Chrissy joins and they're off.
It's a rough show, with some of the equipment dying out for a few seconds, just long enough for Eddie to scream at the crowd to sing along — at the do, belting out her own lyrics back at her loud enough that she hardly misses the speakers at all until they come back on — and she slips on the stage and nearly gives herself a concussion at one point, but they manage to pull it off nonetheless. ]
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It's Saturday, now, and there's more than a handful of people waiting for them to get on stage, but they're probably more than a little drunk. It's close enough.
Riding the wave, Eddie steps up to her mic and bellows a greeting into it, her grin splitting wide at the wave of cheers that comes rolling back towards her. She plays a chord or two, just to feel the vibration sizzle up through her, and her mouth keeps moving totally divorced from her brain, buoying her along through her typical pre-show patter until she gets the signal from the girls that they're ready.
Holding up both hands towards the crowd, ignoring the rain pelting down on her and turning her shirt translucent, Eddie waits a few breaths until things are silent enough for her to start. ]
Why can't you look at me in the eye, my friend, [ she starts, just her scratchy voice to start, before she brings her guitar in beneath to support her, ] you're staring at your feet, aiming at my head. Don't got the decency to say it with your chest... you're staring at your feet, aiming at my head, aiming at my head—
[ Stevie comes in beneath her then, the drums thumping so eagerly Eddie finds herself bouncing on her toes in time, and then Chrissy joins and they're off.
It's a rough show, with some of the equipment dying out for a few seconds, just long enough for Eddie to scream at the crowd to sing along — at the do, belting out her own lyrics back at her loud enough that she hardly misses the speakers at all until they come back on — and she slips on the stage and nearly gives herself a concussion at one point, but they manage to pull it off nonetheless. ]