a_littlefaith | (no subject)

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lisbeth

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There's no denying she's drawing bigger crowds these days, ever since the album was officially released, and although Beth still tries to play some of the smaller venues where she first started out in Darrow, it's getting more and more difficult to keep it up. They just can't let as many people into the bar as want to be there and that's as surreal as seeing that poster of herself that she's found in the record store window that day.

She can't just abandon them, though. These bars, these people, they're why she's able to have a career as a musician and so she still plays whenever she can, but these days she just can't promote the smaller shows as much as she used to. Even without it, the bar tonight is still relatively packed and people are actually singing along with some of her songs and Beth's not sure she's ever going to get used to any of this.

It used to be she would always recognize a few faces at her shows. Carl would be there, or Kili. And then Curtis. He would never make a big deal about it, he wouldn't even always come over to say hi, but he would be there.

They're all gone now and the crowds are too big for her to expect her friends to always be there, but when she spots a familiar face somewhere near the back, Beth's smile grows. She's just about done, wrapping up her last song and then passing off her guitar for it to be put away before she hops down from the stage and weaves her way through the crowd. People stop her and say hi and tell her how much they liked the show and she thanks every single one of them, but she's headed for one person in particular.

"Hi," she says when she's close enough to Lisbeth to be heard. Her hair is damp, her forehead still sweaty from the lights and she pushes back strands that are sticking to her skin. The clothes she wears to perform are different than Lisbeth would have seen her in that first day, a little darker, a little more daring than she usually wears, but the opal Curtis had given her still glints in the hollow of her throat. That never goes anywhere.

"I thought I saw you from the stage," she continues. "How're you doin'?"

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Somehow, Lisbeth makes the wait look as if it doesn't bother her at all (which it doesn't) and also as if she's going to flick her cigarette and kick off a firebomb at any minute (she probably won't). This isn't the kind of music she's used to, but if she's honest with herself (which she really hates), it's one of those things she's hasn't exactly given a shot.

"Hey," Lisbeth says, and then, "I followed you here. I'm sorry if that's not okay. I'm not very good at..." She blows out her breath hard enough to ruffle the fringe of her bangs, grown longer these days. "People. And I'm realizing now that this was a sexist judgement of me, but I needed to talk about something," and she does manage to make it look like she's asking Beth to inject her with something painful if life-saving, "and you seemed like my best choice."

She shuffles her feet. "I might need a drink. Do you want a drink?"

Given their first meeting, Beth is a little surprised by how much Lisbeth says all at once and she finds her smile growing bit by bit as she speaks. She's not really bothered by the idea of Lisbeth following her here, even though she thinks maybe she should be. Curtis probably wouldn't have liked it and Daryl sure as hell wouldn't have, but they're not here anymore, and Beth is feeling the sting of having lost a lot of friends and family in the past year and a bit.

So if Lisbeth wants to talk to her bad enough to follow her, she's actually kind of okay with that.

"C'mon," she says when Lisbeth says she needs a drink. The bartender knows her and he smiles as she approaches, putting down some napkins and leaning his elbows against the bar, waiting for them. He's painfully cute, but Beth is still painfully messed up over losing Curtis and trying to figure everything out. "When I play here me and my friends drink for free, right, Dan?"

"Right," he agrees. "Anything you two want."

Lisbeth finds herself a little enchanted, if she doesn't deny it, about being referred to as a friend. Perhaps she's made the right choice. Perhaps she's going to be someone with friends, and a-- well, that is why she's here. She searches her own memory for what she's supposed to do here, what's worked for her before. Beth is a singer, and so Lisbeth pulls up her memories of Evil Fingers, of tucking herself in a corner to listen to their shows.

She doesn't quite look at the bartender, beyond ordering something strong, don't care what.

"You're good," she says to Beth. "It helped that there were posters and a media presence, to find you, but you're good." Her fingers drum the bar in a pattern not unlike typing. She's not quite ready to talk without the drink first.

Dan already knows what Beth likes, so she doesn't even need to order in the end, he only nods and smiles, then leaves them alone. He's good like that, hanging out with Beth when he knows he's welcome and backing off when she's with someone else. If not for Jason and not knowing what the hell she's doing, she's pretty sure she'd have a little crush on him.

But that's not at all the point right now. She knows Lisbeth hasn't come just to see her play and tell her she's good, but she smiles anyway. There's something she wants to talk about, but it'd be silly to push her and probably wouldn't help at all.

"Thanks," she says as their drinks arrive. "It's kinda crazy, bein' able to do this for a living, but it's fun, too."

While ordinarily it's something that Lisbeth might have at least noticed, she's got a narrow scope tonight. She waits for the drinks, and downs half of hers to feel the burn. A few years ago, and certainly before she was legal to do so, she did manage to soften the hard edges in her life with substances of all kinds; the fuzziness had led to too many close calls, and now it's just a bit of an adrenaline bump.

"Something you would only be doing here, I think," Lisbeth says, unsure of how to cut her usual way of speaking. In some fucked up way, it helps her to remember Beth is every bit the survivor she herself is. "I've only met a few people here. I don't have friends, really, at home. And I don't have--"

Her skin is pale enough that a flush stains through.

"I met someone. And I like him. Quite a bit."

Beth almost laughs, although she stops herself before it comes up, drowning it in a sip of her drink. The way Lisbeth says it, the fact that she's come here at all speaks to a bit of trust she's developed and Beth doesn't know what she's done to have earned it, but she doesn't want to destroy that all with a simple laugh.

The laughter, even though it doesn't come out, wouldn't have been at Lisbeth's expense, but her own. She's spent the past several weeks singing songs about Curtis, all while trying to work out if that makes her a shitty girlfriend for Jason.

"That's good," she says after she's taken that sip of her drink. "It's good, right? Your blush says it's good." Beth loves love. She loves for people to find it, even if it's not always easy.

Lisbeth is too busy staring at her own drink to really notice the near averting of disaster. "It's new," she says, trying for a delicacy in her tone and words, but really sounding even further clipped and unsure. "I've only ever done things casually. Not like this." She takes another fortifying sip.

It's occurred to her that perhaps she's clinging to the first person here to show her kindness, and she might have believed it if she knew it wasn't kindness that she'd felt in his touch that night.

Fuck.

She presses her lips together. "I have feelings. About him. And in general." This seems to be troubling Lisbeth deeply.

"Well, you can't really escape feelings," Beth says, thinking of the jagged scar on her wrist. It used to be that she'd hide it whenever she could, embarrassed by what it meant, by the weakness in her she thought it indicated, but she stopped worrying about it so much in the months before Curtis disappeared.

Now she doesn't bother covering it. It's a scar, it's obvious what she tried, but she's not ashamed. At the time, it had felt like the only way, an escape from the pain of all her loss, but she doesn't want to do that anymore.

"It's okay to have feelings," she says. "About him and in general."

Lisbeth knows that she has to be looking skeptical, about this idea of it being okay to have feelings, and she finally slumps a little. "Feelings haven't worked well for me in the past. Makes it worse when you find out what's wrong with someone, or when they try to hurt you. Back home, there's no shortage of-- hurt."

She can count on one hand the people she can trust not to harm her, and perhaps on the other, those unlikely to do so.

"It's different here."

That's definitely a familiar refrain, even if Daryl never would have been able to articulate it so clearly, and Beth smiles a little before she takes a sip of her drink. The hurt is inevitable. Everyone gets hurt, but the way Lisbeth says it, Beth has to imagine the hurt she's been through is worse than most. Like Grady Memorial maybe, like the sort of hurt they put Joan through and tried to put her through, too.

"A lot of things can be different here," she agrees, stirring her drink with her straw. A lot of things could have maybe been different back home, too, for the both of them, but there's no point in saying something like that, because they're here now. Darrow's all there is, at least for Beth.

"It's okay to have a little faith," she says. "Even just a little can go a long way."

Lisbeth looks up at that, much of the guarded quality of her expression falling away, leaving her face perhaps surprisingly delicate and vulnerable. "It's easy to believe in Sam," she says quietly. "I've never-- not like this. It's only been a few weeks, and--" She doesn't seem to know what else to say, but she's ducking her head again, this time hiding a smile.

"He found me when I first got here. Helped fight off the mugger. Patched me up."

Beth knows that smile and can't help but smile in return, the expression blossoming easily on her face. She shifts a little on her stool and nudges her shoulder against Lisbeth's and teases, "I can see that grin even when you put your head down."

She's quiet for a moment, then says, "When I first got here, I was only eighteen and I had a lot of I've never moments. I... my world was a mess. It had been since I was fifteen. I felt like I'd missed out on doin' so many things, but what I learned here is that there's no such thing as too late. Maybe you've never before. Maybe it's never been like this before. But maybe it can be like this this time."

God, maybe she should take her own advice. She needs to talk to Jason, figure out what he's feeling.

Lisbeth's caught off guard by the sudden contact, but she doesn't wince or pull away, the corner of her mouth tugging up ruefully instead. "I'm not grinning," she tries to state, for the general record of whatever entities were likely recording things.

She takes another quick swallow of her drink and listens more easily now, looser from alcohol and having been able to actually say something.

It's a different, more bittersweet smile that shifts over her face now. "I think if I weren't so sweet on some guy, I'd kiss you," she says, and tosses the rest of her drink back. "Fine, fucking right. I will." She shrugs. "I was going to anyway, but maybe I'll be less tragic."

A few years ago and a comment like that would have freaked Beth out significantly, but after all this time, living in a place like Darrow, she only grins and shakes her head. Whether or not Lisbeth really means it, she'll take it as the compliment it is.

"You can talk to me about it, too," she says with a smile and a shrug, still teasing gently. "I can even give you my phone number and you can text me rather than havin' to follow me to a show. So if somethin' freaks you out, I can be on call."

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