Oh, it's 8:09. Slider should be in town by now.

I made my way to the museum as soon as I said my goodbyes to the Able Sisters, proudly pocketing the new, original pattern that Sabel had made with my oversight. God knows how I was going to use it, but it sure looked nice. That Sabel was a real magician with the needle, she really was.

Before I even walked through the museum doorway, I could already hear the familiar guitar strings mixed with the occasional melodious howl emanating from the Roost, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. When it came to K.K. Slider, it was nothing but good times.

"Evening Blathers, how'd you sleep?" The posh owl was still wiping sand from his eyes.

"Exceptionally well, thank you." Blather quickly re-applied his glasses and fixed his ever-so-precious bowtie. "Are you here to donate anything, perchance?"

"Nothing this time, unfortunately. I'm here to see Slider again." I paused as I noticed that Blathers was still groggy. "Do you need a coffee or something?"

"That would be lovely."

K.K. Slider was in between songs when I walked downstairs, he currently had his guitar set down while he was drinking out of a water bottle. Comfortable conversation from the small groups in the cafe humbly filled the air, ready at any moment to die down once Slider decided he was ready. Inspired by Slider's hydration, I decided to get a drink of my own.

One of Brewster's signature coffees slid across the counter into my anticipant hands. As was the pigeon's usual request, I immediately took greedy gulps of the piping hot liquid, enduring the scalding of my tongue for the unequivocal warmth and vitality that filled my stomach.

Before I left my seat to find a proper table, I leaned over the counter.

"Could I have an extra one for to-go?" Brewster replied with a silent nod.

As I looked back to the stage, I decided I'd take a risk.

"Actually, make that two for to-go, sorry."

Once I came back downstairs after giving Blathers his caffeine, I watched as K.K. Slider's presence commanded the entire room when he began one of his songs. As the lights dimmed, conversations were abruptly cut off, close friends were unabashedly shushed, and phones were either silenced or completely put away.

"Any suggestions?" Slider asked.

"SURPRISE US!" The crowd replied, which caused a slow smile to creep on Slider's face as he racked his brain for what fit the mood.

"Hmm… why don't we play a lazy song?" Slider offered.

The resounding approval from the audience widened his smile even further. He cleared his throat.

"I like to call this little jam K.K. Moody."

As I did with most of Slider's live performances, I closed my eyes and waited to see where his song would take me.

Within seconds I was back home. The sunset painted a portion of the sky in a vibrant, yet soft orange set against the rest of the lavender atmosphere. The warmth in my belly from the coffee was an adequate substitute for a home-cooked meal. I leaned back into the rocking chair on the front porch. I could almost hear the distant clank of our dinner plates against the aluminum kitchen sink inside the house, the metallic ring had a hollowness that resonated throughout my body.

Guitars always have a way of reminding me of family. My parents never even so much as touched a guitar while I've been alive, but my siblings dabbled in a chord progression or two. Not even comparable to the quality of K.K. Slider's, don't get me wrong, but if I closed my eyes and focused on it hard enough, it was almost as if my brothers were the ones playing, as if they were still there… as if i never left.

Before I even knew it, hours had flown past us all in the Roost, and K.K. Slider had howled his last note for the night. The lights were raised back to their normal levels. An appreciative applause was met by a quick, humble nod from the dog, and just like that, the performance was over.

Just as I was about to head out, I reminded myself of the purpose of the extra coffee and headed to the stage.

He noticed me approach.

"Hey dude, what's up?"

"Do you wanna go fishing?" The question clearly caught him of guard, so I brought out the ace up my sleeve that would sweeten the deal. "I have coffee."

I like to pride myself in the fact that's I've developed a bit of a relationship with K.K. Slider. I've never actually asked him to hang out with me before now, but I've had my fair share of conversations with him in the Roost.

I'd never call myself a fan of Slider. I show up to every one of his performances, and I love everything he makes, but I'd never call myself a fan. Being a fan means it's a one-sided relationship.

"Can I give that a go?" Slider gestured for the fishing rod as he sets down his half finished coffee.

"Sure." I handed it over to Slider's outstretched paw, and I could almost immediately tell that Slider had never fished once in his entire life.

I took him a second to balance the pole with his paws, and even longer to awkwardly cast his line, in a completely inefficient, unnatural, and dangerous swing. I made an attempt to keep myself from laughing, but like his casting technique, it failed miserably.

"Hold on, hold on." Slider at last cast his line successfully amidst my incessant laughter.

"Ah, there we go." I gave him mock applause. He gives a mock bow in response.

"So what do I do now?"

"Wait." He nodded, and took a sip of his coffee.

"I can dig that." God, he's such a hippie.

A long, comfortable silence overtook us.

"So this is what you do for money?" I nod, a little puzzled. Slider didn't seem to be the type of person who too concerned with money, it seems weird that he would break a silence with that.

"Why do you ask?" He shrugs.

"I don't know, I just thought normal people had… you know, jobs." We laugh. He only starts laughing once he saw me start to.

"Oh, so you're not like us mere mortals?" I look over at him with a raised eyebrow and he immediately becomes embarrassed.

"Stop it, you catch my drift."

"No, elaborate. Actually though." K.K. Slider is one of those people that are too interesting to not push them to talk freely, especially because of the little conversation you can usually get out of them in the first place.

"Well, I used to think that my performances somehow didn't count as an actual job, you feel me? And I"m pretty sure everybody else would still agree with that. But here you are, living it up in a three story house off of sitting by a pond eight hours a day."

"You calling me lazy?" I lean back and put my hand against my chest melodramatically.

"No, no, of course not, I'm just saying that doing this for a living appeals to me, even though I don't have a "job", per say." His eyes fixate on his hook. "There's nothing wrong with what I do now, but the travel takes a lot out of you, you know?" He looks over at me. I notice the bags under his eyes. They were very faint, but they were there. Were they always there?

"Huh, never thought about that." I've never seen him so talkative before. It must be the coffee.

Another long silence, slightly less comfortable.

"Everyone wants to be like you, you know." I just blurt it out. I couldn't think of any smooth transition into the thought, so I decided I might as well be blunt.

"Sorry?"

"Everyone wants to be like you." It still catches him as off guard as the first time.

"Heh, good one." He just shrugs it off, almost laughing to himself.

"I'm serious! Who wouldn't want to be a talented rogue musician, going wherever the train tracks take him, lighting it up on stage every night?" Slider laughs at the absurdity of it all.

"Where'd you get that idea of me, homeslice?"

…

I try to think of a different topic to move onto, but Slider has his eyebrows furrowed. He's determined to figure it out.

"It's only because you see the best of me."

"Sorry?"

"I have my ups and downs, like anybody else would, I suppose. I always try my best to play it cool when I'm performing though. You can seriously ruin a chill mood if you let your negative emotions seep through into your performance."

"So your personality on stage is an act?"

"No, no, no." He quickly denies. "It's more… reserved, I'd say."

"How so?"

"Well," He gave himself a minute to properly place his words. "for me, it's all about the experience my audience gets through my performance. I try to do the least I can to separate someone from the moment, you feel me? It's all about staying in that moment. Talking just gets in the way, I dunno."

"I never knew that performing would require that you adjust your personality."

"It comes with the territory." Slider shrugs as if to say 'what can you do?'.

…

"Got anything yet?"

"Not a bite."

…

After a few minutes, Slider gets up from his spot and hands me the pole.

"I think this is where I leave you. I have a train to catch."

"Alright, but I'd hate to have you leave empty-handed." Slider shrugs again in response.

"My luck wasn't there tonight. Maybe next time." My eyes widen as I realize what I could do to make up for his bad luck.

"Here, at least take this."

I dig around my pockets and hand him the pattern that Able had just made for me today. It was essentially just plain blue with white stripes sporadically sprawled across the fabric to simulate an overhead view of the ocean. It was simple, yet effective in provoking nostalgic memories of the one time the whole family went on some cruise, I can't even remember where we went or what ship we were on, all I could remember was the view. Looking out to the ocean on our own beach accomplished the same effect, so it's not like I was giving away a piece of my past.

"You sure?" Slider's tired eyes show a hint of surprise.

"Absolutely."

"Dope." He carefully puts the pattern away, we say our goodbyes, and Slider quietly disappears into the night, leaving me with an empty line and empty pockets.