"Augenbling"
She eyed the overcast sky with a stiffened upper lip, wishing that the sun would come out. It was summer, she had noted, and still the weather felt like May. While there was nothing wrong with May, it was June and she had been excited to roam the streets in her Adidas tees and skinny jeans. Until then it was light layers like her current pullover as she and the rest of the members of Das Sound Machine ran their parts down for the new show, a hybrid mix of "Ghost" by Mystery Skulls and "Elastic Heart" by Sia. So far, everyone was singing the two interlocking melodies together, but it was obvious that Das Sound Machine needed a collective mental breather. They were making "focus errors": entrances that were off by seconds, slightly dissonant chords and other minute errors that are not expected in a Das Sound Machine performance. Her eyes strayed to her phone, tucked beneath her sweater and atop her backpack against the far wall, and then to her watch. There was fifteen minutes left in practice time. She huffed out a sigh of relief.
"We're sounding good," she told them, "but it sounds like we're tired. Take this early dismissal and get some rest. We're gonna hit it hard tomorrow, yeah?" There was a chorus of nods and grunts of approval; she hoped fervently that they would hit the grindstone afresh, since their string of shows in the States started in two weeks. Das Sound Machine shuffled out the door of the loaned studio (a sponsoring dance company had been quite gracious with the German performance ensemble when they needed a leg up into the American venues since their last run in the States had been provided by a blunder by the Bellas), and she walked toward her gear slowly, rubbing a beaten palm against the back of her sweat-greased neck. She turned at the sound of her moniker.
"Kommissar!" Pieter bounded up, a lean but muscular otter of a man with deep-set eyes and mussed black hair, clad in his black tank and red mesh basketball shorts. She waved him off when he used her nickname, albeit a hard-earned one. Some even called her simply "the bear" but it never could suffice for situations the way that "Kommissar" could. Pieter grinned when she responded dismissively.
"All right, all right, Luisa. We are off the clock. What's going on?" He sat, picking up his Nike jacket embossed with the seal of Das Sound Machine, grimacing at a Taco bell hot sauce stain on the pocket.
Luisa sighed once again. "Thinking."
"About how awesome we are going to be when we go ham sandwich on the American premier tour?" Pieter smiled again, looking at his long-time friend in an effort to clear out her smoky mood. "We are going to rock it so hard. I'm excited. That Sia song: genius."
"Thank you," Luisa replied quietly. "It's…" She pulled on her sweater, zipping up the center.
"You have nerves?"
"Ja. A little. You know. And planning. I hope we aren't burning out right now."
"Of course not, Kommissar. Remember? You make 'em…"
"Jump, jump," Luisa grinned. "You are too excited for your own good, Pieter."
"Nonsense. You want to grab a coffee after this? Get that caffeine buzzing in them veins?"
Luisa had reached for her phone, noting the deep blue light that indicated a waiting message. She swiped the lock screen with a finger and her eyes lit up.
"Are we still on for tonight?" The contact name was "Tiny Maus". She quickly typed in an affirmative response, then drummed her hands on the hardwood floor.
"I'm sorry, Pieter, I have plans," she stood, performing an awkward shuffling dance with her fists clenched. "Yes, yes, yes, yes…"
"I told you my excitement would rub off," Pieter observed. Luisa took up her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder and grinning wolfishly.
"Yes it did! And on another note I am going out with someone!" The duo made their way toward the exit for the evening.
"Is it your Maus again?"
"Yes."
"Good. I mail it."
"You ship it, Pieter," Luisa corrected.
"That, too."
When Luisa met her in front of the coffee house halfway between the studio and Beca's apartment she was still stained from the long rehearsal, her hair in a ponytail but loosened and with strands hanging on either side of her worn but happy features, still musky from the day and running previous shows with DSM. She paused, staring at Beca with a smile on her face. This confused her partner, who cocked her head with a grin.
"What are you staring at?" Luisa shook her head.
"Nothing. Shall we go?" Beca would have chuckled and called her a sap had she admitted that a single look into her eyes made her forget all the stresses of the day. The duo made their way back to Beca's apartment, walking close, Luisa wrapping an arm around the shorter girl.
"You guys still practicing your English?" Beca asked. Since touching down Luisa and her partner in crime Pieter had been speaking exclusively in their second language, so that they could become even more comfortable with using it at the drop of a hat. The experience had become more an adventure than an adaptation to American life, as Pieter explored memes and Luisa watched his progress with an exasperated smile.
"Yes we are. How's your English? Do you think you could beat me at Scrabble?"
"Of course. Then it'll be your turn to make dinner."
"I accept your challenge," Luisa gave Beca a squeeze. "And when I beat you, you have to watch 'How I Met Your Mother' with me."
"You're on!"