It should have been routine. Detached. Nothing too taxing at all. Frankly, Lucas was glad of the task that others may view as mundane. Picking someone up. Taking them to the Grid. Not getting both of them killed in the meantime.
No-one warned him that she would be chatty.
"So, James," she drawled. "Got any hobbies?"
Lucas suppressed an eye roll due to his upbringing that taught him to be civil, especially to someone you've just met. Although, he was unlikely to see Danielle Ortiz again. Hopefully. She was probably very nice and intelligent and all that, but Lucas could only focus on himself right now, and how the hell he was going to sort out his life that was rapidly spiralling beyond control.
He had no patience for inane questions.
"Come on. Movies," she pushed. Lucas gripped the wheel and avoided eye contact.
" Music!" she declared. "C'mon, everyone loves music."
"Used to." His voice was hoarse but harsh, a tone that invited no further conversation.
"Used to? How can you go off music?" she asked in disbelief.
"Sometimes you just stop hearing it."
Music reminded him of cold nights and a roaring fireplace. A CD player perched on a table, looking incongruous amongst the splendour of the surrounding furniture. Soft music drifting through the air permeated with spiced apple. He was dancing with his wife, and her hair was a black cascade that shimmered in the light. He had never been a strong dancer but she guided gently, her movements effortless against his hopeless ones. She laughed with him as they twirled underneath the tall roof and, above that, the endless dark complexion of the night sky freckled with diamond stars.
The casino music was always blocked by a hum of chatter and clink of glasses. Every so often when he zoned out, brain struggling with the late night shift that he had foolishly signed up for again, he could make out the beat drumming in the background, scrabbling for attention through the sound system. This building may well have been a dance floor some time ago, with plenty of space and lights slung lazily from the ceiling, an ideal destination for couples to swirl and laugh and tap their feet to form a pattering that sounded like the rain.
"Here you are, John." His voice snapped him from his musing. The voice that always seized his attention, made his blood chill and his skin crawl.
"Thanks, Vaughn," he returned, taking the glass of beer with a shaking hand that he hoped would go unnoticed.
The burn of Danielle's blue eyes pulled him back to the present. She looked intrigued, or concerned. Either way, Lucas didn't want her to feel anything towards him. The slightest show of emotion could be the last straw, the thing that made everything break. He gripped the steering wheel, watching his knuckles blanch, completely immune to the discomfort it caused him to feel.
Over time he'd become accustomed to blocking out music, just like everything else.