Passing the bassist's bedroom, Stuart can't help but wonder what on Earth is going on in there. Every time he's managed to get a quick peek into the room, it's always been pitch black inside and all manner of noises coming out from it. Never the same ones though, which adds to the intrigue. He's heard the sheep of course. But he's also heard someone crying, wind chimes, the chirp of crickets, ravens, a train whistle, even what may have been thunder. Not that he's entirely certain about that's what it was, but it did sound like it to him. Then of course there's the voices. Sometimes two or three, but on occasion there's been more and they don't quite sound entirely human. Often whispering, he's been unable to make out any distinctive words. Apart from that one time when he inadvertently hit one of them in the face with the electricity bill, after tossing it into the room. Even then he hadn't been able to see who it was, because the room was just too dark to even make out any kind of basic shapes that could be considered a person. Let alone anything else. Another unusual thing that he's taken note of, is the way the darkness behaves. He happened to notice, when he opened his own door one night, that the landing light spilled into the dark room a good foot and a half at least. However, when he's opened the bassist's door, the light appears to stop right at the threshold. Almost as if it's afraid to cross and enter the room.
Back at Kong, there was an almost ominous air around the musician's Winnebago as well. Not as bad as it is now perhaps. But it was certainly enough to give the singer a reason to hesitate a touch, before he knocked on the door. Then again, part of the reason could have been because the bassist had a habit of shouting or snarling at anyone, who dared disturb him while he was in there. At the time, Noodle had suggested that it was the man's mode of escape. A kind of sanctuary that he'd use to unwind and recoup after dealing with people that he didn't want to spend a lot of time with. He understood that of course. But sometimes he'd found himself in situations where he'd have to knock and get Murdoc's attention. Either to deal with packages or mail that arrived, or phone calls. Sometimes though, it was also because he didn't like being alone in the building and wanted the company. Who better to deal with the kinds of dark forces inside that place, than the man who possibly knew best how to?
They of course weren't localised to the "Winnie" alone, or even the underground car park. They were all over the building and the closer you got to the Hell hole in the basement, the worse they seemed to get. That last thought brings the singer's decent down the stairs to an abrupt halt. He quickly turns and looks back up towards the bassist's door, hoping that the older man had learned his lesson and wasn't up there creating a new one. The sound of the door opening, followed by what could only be described as a Caribbean steel drum band. Makes Stuart turn back and hurry back down the stairs, making his way quickly towards the kitchen. Reaching the room ahead of him and seeing that he's alone. The singer flops down into a chair and drops his forehead down onto the surface of the table, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. Knowing that when Murdoc arrives he will either ignore him or hit him, he counts on the latter and braces for impact, letting his arms dangle uselessly down by his sides.
"Harrumph. Zoned again, typical," the bassist grunts as he walks in, then flicking the ear of the limp singer as he passes, he heads to the far end of the table and kicks out a chair. "Wake up you idiot!" he shouts as he flops down into the seat and reaches out for the bottle of rum in the centre of the table. Snapping his head up instantly and staring at the bassist a little bleary eyed, Stuart sits up and yawns, then gazes around the room as if in a daze.
"I was sleeping," he mumbles, turning back to the man across from him and watching as Murdoc unscrews the lid of the bottle.
"And now you're not," Murdoc grunts with a vague shrug, then takes a large swig of rum.
Letting his mind slip back to his last thought, Stuart wonders if the older man really would be crazy enough to reopen the Hell hole. Sure the man talks big and likes to portray himself as being intelligent, and to be honest he certainly is in some respects. But Murdoc is just like any other, in the sense that he to is perfectly capable of sheer acts of stupidity at times. It's just that he tends to hide them well and even if he doesn't, is able to make it look as though he did it on purpose, simply because he was bored, drunk or both. Most often it comes off as believable, given the kind of person he is. Still, the singer can't help but see that bored or not, it's still stupidity. The bassist just refuses to accept the fact that he's capable of it and take responsibility for what follows it, that's all. Surely this is different though? He wouldn't risk it and push his luck building another one, would he? Catching the firm look that he's getting, pulls the singer from his musings and back into the room.
"What?" he asks, wrinkling his nose in confusion at him.
"Hells Bells," Murdoc groans in exasperation, rolling his eyes and slumping his posture down in the chair. "Snap out of it, will you. I've been talking to your arse for the last half hour and I'm tired of feeling like I'm the only damn sod in the room." Flopping back in the chair, he folds his arms over his chest and looks away, grumbling softly to himself.
"Sorry Muds. I'm listening now," he mumbles, not too sure if it's what the older man really wants to hear right now. The icy way he snaps his gaze back to the singer and narrows his blood shot eyes, tells him no. But there really isn't anything that he can do about it right now.
Just as the bassist opens his mouth to say something back to him Noodle walks in, still in her pyjamas, rubbing a hand against the back of her head and yawning as if she's only just woken up. The audible click of the older man's teeth coming together catches her attention slightly. She says nothing to either man though, as she wanders over to the cupboard, opening the door and peering inside, almost as though she doesn't even care that they are there. Wearing a small pink cropped top and baggy powder blue tracksuit pants, slung low on her hips and revealing a little more of her midriff, than would be considered decent by some. The way the bassist's eyes widen and his gaze snakes up and down her form, seems punctuated by the slow creep of the corners of the older man's mouth. This tells the singer that whatever is going through the man's head right now, is more than likely inappropriate and something that in earlier years, would have Russel threatening to punch his lights out for it. Just then, the drummers huge index finger punches it's way through the open kitchen window. It slams into the back of the bassist's head and smashes it, face down, onto the surface of the table, then holds it there with Murdoc screeching in protest.
"Eyes down, and you better know that I ain't messing with you about this man," Russel's voice growls from outside the window.
Shooting a look over to the other window, the singer sees the firm look on the drummers face and grins, knowing that even now Murdoc isn't going to get away with a single lecherous look, at the young woman. Not if Russel has anything to do with it. Pinned with just the right amount of pressure to make it impossible for him to lift his head. Murdoc flails his arms wildly, doing all that he can to reach back and pries the finger from the back of his head. To no avail, he just can't twist his arms far enough to come even close to touching it. All that he is managing to do instead, is to make himself look helpless in quite an amusing way. Sucking his lips back hard and covering his mouth with his hand in an effort not to laugh at the sight. Stuart turns away and sniggers silently over his shoulder, knowing that if Murdoc sees or hears him then he's done for sometime later tonight. Memories of past visits when he was sleeping slip through his mind, giving him more resolve to remain as quiet as possible. Regardless of how hard the bassist's desperate antics are making it.
"I swear, you fat bastard. If you don't get your damn finger off the back of my head. I'll fucking harpoon you!" Murdoc screeches, still fighting to get free.
Noodle lifts her eyes to the struggling man at the table, but doesn't seem at all bothered by the sight. She presses herself away from the counter and popping a spoonful of muesli into her mouth, drops the spoon into the bowl and flips over a magazine that is sitting on the table. By the looks of it she's not in any hurry to leave the room. Especially given the way she flicks lazily through the magazine, glancing at a few pages. Then with a sigh she closes it and tucking it under her arm, picks up the spoon again and continues eating, as she slowly meanders from the room. Only when she's out of sight, does the drummer finally lift the pressure and pull his finger back out through the window. The rapid way the bassist jumps up and swings around like a viper, tells Stuart that if Russel had of been standing there, the musician would have quite probably launched himself at him in an attempt to take the man down. Not that he'd ever been successful in the past in his attempts. But it never stopped him before and reveals just how furious he is right now. Which is why the singer instantly slips into zoned out mode. So long as Murdoc believes that he hadn't witnessed it, whatever may follow won't be anywhere near as bad as it could be. Spluttering in frustration the bassist straightens his shirt, ignoring the sound of Russel climbing back up onto the roof and moving instead to a place by the wall.
"Now," he grunts at the younger man as he lights up a cigarette, lifting his eyes to him to be sure that he's snapped him out of his daydream and focused him back onto himself. "Where were we?" he adds and pockets his lighter, watching the way the singers eyes widen and he wrings his hands nervously, not knowing what will happen next. Whatever is going on behind those black eyes, Stuart is sure that he's about to come off worst. He always does.