Despite the slightly antagonizing morning full of stuffy fashion overlords and their demands, the rest of the afternoon was much lighter and way more pleasant. He headed out from one job to the next at the music shop after Adrien saw him out. The shop wasn't as big as a modeling venue, but the atmosphere was a lot better. Dusty racks of records and cds, huge windows with natural lighting, and the occasional noise from the cash register.

Not to mention the piano he often played as a marketing ploy.

It was hard to act as uptight as that entire crew was when he was there. It made his shoulders ache and he was glad to be done with that gig. If it wasn't going to put his music out there and get even one reporter talking about the background music no one usually listened to, he would've never accepted the job. After the first few hours of dealing with Gabriel Agreste, he seriously questioned his own motives to fame.

He headed right for the piano after his stuff was dumped in the back room and pulled the lid open, seriously needing some quiet camaraderie. He didn't wait for his co-worker to open the main door so the music escaped outside before his fingers found random keys and started in. He ended up playing a few slow songs of other techno artists he admired and respected. One would effortlessly bleed into another after years of practice and a highly tuned ear, ending up with the songs he had made as was usual.

He didn't even bother to move when the sound of shoes slapped past the entryway. The occasional creaking of floorboards almost hesitantly, questionably, delved into a location the person probably had never visited before. He kept playing and only watched the tennis shoes stop at the corner of his vision. He pretended not to notice for a few more seconds before holding a key and looking up. "Like what you hear? I teach too, you know."

It was a teenager, only a few years younger than he was. Dressed down, though fashionably so, as were most in Paris. Nothing obvious stood out about her to give him a clue as to her likes or hobbies. Like most of his clients.

The girl shuffled forward and stopped at the edge of the baby grand piano which barely had its own space amongst the guitars and small drum sets in the rear of the store. He went back to playing for a moment, eyes on the slim hand that lightly touched black wood near the keys.

"I actually...kind of wanted to learn guitar, Monsieur..."

He smiled and took his fingers off the keys. Without a word, he went to the acoustics and shouldered the strap. He sat back on the piano bench and went through a few chords, mimicking the song he had just been playing. "Well, I'm also pretty good with the guitar too..."

Her lips twitched. "Actually, the electric."

He chuckled and shook his head. "So hard to please. One instrument is only a language for another."

Her smile widened, teeth threatening to show. "I don't have much money on me, but I do want a few basic lessons. We have class on some instruments, but I can never get some things just right. There's never enough time to get single help either."

From there the business aspect came out and the talk shifted. He idly plucked a few chords as they discussed schedules and free time. A quiet song came out, drawing in this girl who he was subtly impressing while he talked and played. He asked enough questions of whatever talent this potential student of his already possessed before deciding on thirty minute necessities twice a week. They hashed out the fee, to be paid to the store instead of him, and she shuffled back out with expressions of needing to be somewhere, but curiously drawn in by the piano.

As was usually the way he drew business.

"Another one bites the dust."

He looked up, hands still on the neck, and slowly waltzed over. The song turned cheesy and romantic, his sway with the instrument to appear as if he were serenading his co-worker with an electric guitar. "Thanks for opening the door for me." He replied, leaning his head on her shoulder. "I didn't want to lose the mojo by getting up."

His co-worker lightly shoved him off her shoulder, playful scowl on her face. Nothing was ever meant by his lack of intentions and they both knew it. Alya would kill him and then maim her if she ever knew it was serious.

Not that he ever intended on being serious with anyone else.

"When is your lunch?" He shifted topics, playing something slightly faster and more alternative as he headed to the wall in order to put the guitar back.

"The second you finish holstering that thing where it belongs." She replied, leaning against the counter.

"Then I suppose it's lunchtime for you, Mademoiselle." He answered, turning around with now empty hands. "Go have something yummy while I stay and guard our hard-earned Euros with my life."

He received a snort for his facade and soon was left alone to watch over the unbought, and slightly dusty, merchandise. The next hour was pretty quiet, save for a few phone calls and customers in need of new tunes. He didn't mind the few moments of peace; one must slow down a beat on occasion in order to start up something new soon.

Maybe an hour after his co-worker returned, a few familiar faces showed up. It was difficult to see them with the evening taking the sun away, and they were halfway into the shop before recognition hit. "My dear beauties!" He exclaimed, getting up from the piano he had been playing for the last few minutes. "It's so good to see your lovely faces brighten this shop."

"Was that you playing? I thought it was just a recording."

He bowed cordially and greeted the pair of models he had seen at the venue. "It was. I dabble in many aspects of music. How may this humble shop employee help you?"

He ignored the cracks from his co-worker from her duty of cleaning one of the shelves and smiled at the pair.

"I saw your info on the back of the cd and just wanted to see if you had anything else available."

He smiled in response. Subtle business tactics usually paid off if you baited the client just right.

"I have but a few pitiful cds of mine that I have made and the shop is graciously selling for me. I will show you the small shelf space they take up."

He ended up going into detail on certain beats and instruments which he used to create some of the songs. When asked if one of the models could listen to a few of the tracks "just to check some of them out", he strode over to the piano and opened the lid again. "Which song would you like me to play first? Bear in mind that not all of them are made on piano and will sound just a little different."

Upon a quick condition that he play the ones he actually used a piano for, he named off the cd and track name of each song he started in on. He gave a one minute intro of two best piano pieces before pausing to see if they would like any more.

When he caught the enamored, stunned looks on their faces, he tried to hide the knowing smile on his face as best as possible. Possibly all of his cds would head out the door to new homes today.

"Anything else you'd like to hear, Mademoiselles?" He asked, trying to get them out of their stupor.

One of them shook her head as if hardly hearing him and proceeded to get around her fellow model to get any cd bearing his name. The other one did the same and immediately headed to the register, hands in their expensive purses for their wallets.

He watched from the bench as they paid for everything and chatted about the rest of the songs he had recorded which they were eager to listen to. "Thank you for your patronage. Tell your friends!" He called out as they headed for the entryway. The pair barely waved him a goodbye before they were heading outside for wherever else they needed to be, eyes on the plastic cases.

"I don't know why you don't get into actual sales with methods like that."

He looked to his co-worker and grinned. He closed the lid on the piano and strode over. "Why would I get into a such boring line of work that most people already have when a life like this is so much more interesting?"

His co-worker gave him a deadpanned stare. "And penniless. Do you plan on living like this for the rest of your young adult life?"

He leaned on the counter with a knowing smile. "The first rule of any musician is to build your fan base. Sadly, as any musician knows, that takes a long time. I don't want to work a stereotypical job just to pay the few bills I have when I can start doing what I want to do now by finding students and dj'ing."

"Speaking of students, it looks like your next appointment is here."

He turned from the counter to find a teenager stride in. Casual wear, yet crisp in the appearance. Nothing stood out to show the type of music the girl favored, though he knew from experience she was into alternative music and the guitar. Eclectic tastes, carefully hidden by basic fashion.

Just like most of his clients.

01010

"Another long, fruitful day of making money and getting my name out." He mused through a stretch. Immediate silence echoed his comment with only the quiet noise of a nearby car passing by to respond after a second.

Divulging himself of his unneeded items, he tossed everything on the floor for now and turned for the tiny kitchen making up his closet of a studio apartment. Evening was already upon him and although he was done working for the day, he had another bout of chores to do before he was done. She would be here soon and food would be the first thing on her mind. She was snappy when hungry and he didn't want to start the evening off on a bad note.

He walked around the bar counter and grabbed a few items from the nearly indistinguishable kitchen. Random items that he knew she liked got thrown together, still smelling up the place with its delectable aroma by the time the entryway was opened.

"You didn't put in too much oregano this time, did you?"

He scoffed and turned the burner on low to give his attention to her. "Bonsoir to you too, Mademoiselle. I thought I'd make dinner for you since I knew you'd be hungry when you got here."

An arm suddenly went over his torso, chin taking up his other shoulder, as she gave a loud sniff. "Just right this time. You're learning."

He playfully bumped his head against hers, smiling as he did so. She chuckled back and knocked against him as well before letting go. "After all these years, I would hope I would." He turned to her fully, arms going around her waist as hers draped over his shoulders. "And you're still critiquing my cooking, as always."

She smirked, the thick lenses on her nose going up a little. "Would I be my mother's daughter if I did otherwise?"

"Perhaps this mother's daughter should do dessert then..." He mumbled, leaning down for a quick kiss.

She hummed against his mouth, lips twitching. "Dinner is before dessert, Monsieur.." She lowly mumbled, arms tightening just a little around his neck.

He pulled away with a full grin, though he tugged her closer. "You've had too good of a day. I wasn't talking about that...yet. I want a yogurt parfait."

She stared at him for a second before bursting out laughing in his face. "Parfaits it is then..." She managed, stepping back. She lightly swatted a shoulder before maneuvering around him to the tiny fridge in the corner. She got all of half a minute of pulling out ingredients before a pair of rough arms went around her, tugging her close.

A hand slowly brushed the hair out from in front of an ear. "Of course..." He lowly murmured, air brushing against her skin. "If you would like more than just parfaits later, I'm sure I could find room to accommodate extra dessert..."

He felt the shiver and the shift in her weight. His arms tightened over her ample chest, hearing the slight shudder in her breath as she lost the original response. In a second, he was lightly elbowed in the chest and pushed back. He let go and looked up to find her red faced and scowling down at him. He looked up with a jovial smile, knowing he had done the initial job.

A finger wagged in his face for a second before he caught the offending finger and kissed the back of her palm. "You're...incorrigible..." She mumbled, letting him kiss up the exposed part of her arm. He stopped at the sleeve and she used the grip he had to help him back up. She gave a playful, yet annoyed look and pushed him toward the stove. "If you burn dinner, there is neither dessert for you, Monsieur dj. Now finish up so I can do my job and then we can eat."

He gave a salute and somehow they both shifted in the small space to get food and plates ready. Soon, dinner sat on ceramic-ware in front of the bar stools, parfaits keeping cold on the little jut to the window nearby.

Light conversation of their day took up part of the quiet, only filled the rest of the way with clinking of utensils. He learned how annoying some of her classes were and she learned that he picked up yet another student.

"How many is that now? Six?" She muttered, giving him a raised brow.

He paused to do a mental count of his schedule not including the store work. "I think eight...? Maybe it's six... I think one is stopping for a short time due to school and bad grades, so I can't count on that one for the next week."

She hummed in response, eyes briefly toying with her food before taking a bite. "And the shop, plus that random modeling gig, then the overnight dj stuff...it's amazing you have time for me sometimes."

He grinned at the laced jealousy in her tone and leaned a little closer to her. "I always have time for you, my beauty." She said nothing, but smiled a response, telling him the comment was accepted.

He finally declared the place too quiet and grabbed one of the cds from his collection of music. He put the music on low, but it was barely thirty seconds in when there was a ghastly complaint from his audience.

"Ugh, please don't play any trance. Not at this time of night. Put some good music on."

He scoffed and turned in mock offense, though he knew she would have said something like that in the first place. "This IS good music and it's not trance; this can't classify as it. It's the techno variety and you'd do well to get your sub-genres memorized."

The look sent from her chair was totally unamused. "That's your job...literally, and I'll leave you to it. Now put in some R & B that I know you have on you."

He tsk'ed and gently put the disc back in the folder it had been resting in. "One day I'll turn you. Just you wait."

She chuckled and propped her head up on the counter-top. "Just do it already and get back up here."

He shot a slightly evil grin to the cd player. He turned the song to one he knew would do its job and set the volume loud enough to be heard, but not overbearing. The piano came on forte, but alluring. The accompanying clapping was enough to have her tapping a foot before the female singer started up. The singer started singing romantic and enticing words by the time he stood, not even able to make his way back to the chair.

Brown eyes behind thick lenses gave him a dry look, yet she had turned his way with an arm leaning back on the bar counter. Amused, sassy, quietly inviting. She said nothing as he stopped in front of her, staring down instead of sitting and resuming their meal. The look suddenly turned to a smirk, getting his lips twitching in response even as he leaned over her a little. "Not subtle at all, are you, Monsieur?"

His hands found the counter near her arm, holding his weight as he inched toward her just a little more. The rims of his glasses slipped mere millimeters down his nose, trying to get to her first before he could. "You said R & B." He murmured, watching her smirk drop as the seconds ticked by. He watched her lids droop mere degrees as he closed the distance. "I just did as you requested." His breath fanned her face, getting ever closer. Slowly, but surely. "You didn't say which song."

Her arms lashed out around his neck and pulled him down for a blazing kiss. She stole his ability to breathe for a moment before letting go and giving him air. "Dinner...is going to get cold..." She panted, brushing against his stubble with her chin. "You know how I hate it reheated..."

His hands drifted over her chin, lightly gripping smooth skin. "Maybe we can just have parfaits as a second dessert if we want real food."

"That's...if you're still hungry...for food...later." She mumbled, teeth going for his ear.

She kept him from saying anything else as she stole the air from him again, legs around his waist accompanying her mouth against his. His arms immediately helped support her, simultaneously tugging her to him and moving backwards at the same time. He stopped when his calves hit the back of his bed and mentally cursed not having pulled it apart for full use earlier.

Oh well. It wouldn't be the first time if such a thing didn't happen.

His weight settled on top of her, every nerve feeling all of her. "It sounds like I'll get my fill in then..." He murmured, face in her chest.

The only answer she gave were the sounds of pleasure at him finding all her spots with ease.

Music shop: media tumblr com/tumblr_m2xo16l1Ts1r1vqqvo1_500 jpg

ATB: Trilogie part two

ATB: Farenheit 451

Nino apartment: parisattitude com/rent-apartment/gare-de-l-est-gare-du-nord,apartment,studio,5430 aspx

Sade, I couldn't love you more: youtube com/watch?v=G0G53hJ8Rjs