"Eddie! You? Illegal activities?" They clap a hand to their chest with a faux-gasp, smirking. They're about to continue, but Eddie goes on to invite them -- or demands their presence -- and Teddy blinks, surprised into a more genuine smile, fully warmed by the casual declaration.
"Fuck yeah," they agree, nodding, and lift a hand to bump knuckles, or whatever Eddie ends up interpreting that as (did people do that in the 80s? Teddy's investigations into the past have never included casual hand gestures of enthusiasm). "I am all for more typical freak behavior."
"Did anyone tell you it is legal now?" Teddy adds as they head down the stairs. "Pot. Well, kinda. Some states have it totally decriminalized, and some of them are, you know, West Virginia." She snorts. "But the medical stuff is, back home. Taxed to shit, which I think they finally figured out."
They grin widely at Eddie's little squeak. Truth is, they've been waiting to show this part off to someone, and Eddie's the best person to show it off to: there's no point in having a fairly equipped little practice area and guitars you could never afford and a little den full of cushions and music and books if you don't have company.
"That's me, Saint Peter," Teddy says, spreading his arms theatrically. He grins at we just had a garage. "Shit, you're telling me. One of our best practice spaces was an old barn. This? Is basically the coolest moodboard ever, yanked out of my head. I think the rug is from a venue we played once, and the guitars are from ...a lot of hours in music stores...and the stereo setup is probably just from me being a geek, honestly --"
They spread their hands in a little scale gesture. "What'll it be, playing something or someone else playing something? Your choice."
no subject
"Fuck yeah," they agree, nodding, and lift a hand to bump knuckles, or whatever Eddie ends up interpreting that as (did people do that in the 80s? Teddy's investigations into the past have never included casual hand gestures of enthusiasm). "I am all for more typical freak behavior."
"Did anyone tell you it is legal now?" Teddy adds as they head down the stairs. "Pot. Well, kinda. Some states have it totally decriminalized, and some of them are, you know, West Virginia." She snorts. "But the medical stuff is, back home. Taxed to shit, which I think they finally figured out."
They grin widely at Eddie's little squeak. Truth is, they've been waiting to show this part off to someone, and Eddie's the best person to show it off to: there's no point in having a fairly equipped little practice area and guitars you could never afford and a little den full of cushions and music and books if you don't have company.
"That's me, Saint Peter," Teddy says, spreading his arms theatrically.
He grins at we just had a garage. "Shit, you're telling me. One of our best practice spaces was an old barn. This? Is basically the coolest moodboard ever, yanked out of my head. I think the rug is from a venue we played once, and the guitars are from ...a lot of hours in music stores...and the stereo setup is probably just from me being a geek, honestly --"
They spread their hands in a little scale gesture. "What'll it be, playing something or someone else playing something? Your choice."