The New Moon Troop wouldn't be able to make this trip by bus. Oh, no. They were going to have to fly. Buster had given everyone the big news the day following his conversation with Suki, and while everyone was thrilled, it was clear to Buster that Ash was struggling to conceal her anxiety regarding the situation. Of course, she wanted to do this! It was a fantastic opportunity for all of them, and it proved that all of their struggles and hardships trying to make Out of This World were not for nothing. None of that bothered her, but Buster did. He'd been through so much, and it felt like he wasn't giving himself enough time to heal. He still limped whenever he walked. He still couldn't feel his paws, nor could he control their shakiness at random times of the day. But what concerned her more was the fact that Buster was clearly messed up. Beyond physical injuries, that is. He was in pretty bad shape, and she worried that taking on this new promise to another massive company would take him back to a place he didn't want to be.
Buster noticed that despite her excitement and her smiles to the rest of the cast, she was fuming. Before he could ask if she was alight, he was bombarded with questions:
"When do we leave?"
"How long are we staying?
"Is it gonna be like, a tour situation?"
Buster chuckled, settling everyone down. "We leave first thing in the morning. Will you guys be able to meet up at the airport around nine?"
There were multiple responses of agreement.
"Alright, then that's already set. Suki told me it'll be at the West Gate; Terminal 3. We'll have to thank The Majestic for paying for our flights, also. So remind me to do that."
"Oh, come on, Mr. Moon," Johnny joked, a huge smile plastered on his face, "you'd never forget somethin' like that."
"Heh, no, I guess not."
"Will Suki be meeting us when we land?" Gunter asked, putting emphasis on the Saluki's name. Buster's ears flattened as his eyes widened a bit. Meena and Johnny giggled as Rosita smiled down at the showman. Buster had to play this off as quickly as possible.
"Yes, she will be!" he responded in his typical optimistic manner. "And she'll be escorting us to our hotel."
"We're getting our own rooms?" Meena gasped. A subject change. Excellent.
"You bet! The whole nine yards. Now, I want you guys to head home and get as much rest as you can today. We've got an early start tomorrow, so get packed, alright? If you need me, you know how to get ahold of me."
The New Moon Troop all hollered triumphantly, pulling Moon in for a massive group hug. The worn-down showman appreciated the sort of overwhelming love and protection that his cast offered. His family, to be more accurate. For a fleeting second, Buster allowed himself to completely relax. He felt his nerves, the stress, the... memories; he felt them all leave. For just those few seconds, he felt like himself again. And then the hug was released and he had to continue to carry his own weight. He cleared his throat and wished everybody an excellent day, particularly one of rest and relaxation. As everyone made their leave, Ash stayed behind. She looked at Moon carefully as he made his way over to the kitchen, grabbing another water from the fridge.
"Buster," she started, doing her best to find the patience that she didn't know if she possessed, "are you... ya know... sure about this?"
The showman struggled with the water cap for a moment before finally popping it off and taking a swig. "Sure about what?"
"All of this. Going out to perform again. I don't want you to... I dunno. You put a lot of pressure on yourself, Pops. That's the only reason I ask."
Buster turned to face the kid completely, a look of worry flashing across his face. "Ash, you don't have to worry. Especially not about me. What happened has happened, yeah? I'm not one hundred percent, sure. But I'm up and at 'em, aren't I?"
"I guess..."
Buster stepped up to his kid, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a tight squeeze. "Hey," he said, sincerity lacing his words. Ash knew he was being genuine, now. "It'll be alright, Ash. I promise. I want to do this for you guys. You deserve it."
Ash couldn't help but smile a little at his words. He'd managed to calm her down for now, but she'd be back at him in the morning. She groaned, rolling her eyes as Buster pulled her into one of his famous hugs, squeezing her as tightly as he could without hurting himself.
"Don't fight it, kid," he chuckled, and she finally hugged back. The showman knew the kid needed this right now, especially since whenever he was ready to release her, she had not shared the same interest. Ash continued to hold Buster there, where he was until she was certain he was okay. She finally let him go, swiping quickly at her eyes.
"Alright, alright. You got me. But I want you to go home, too. You can't stay here and work yourself to death all day. Go home, Buster. At least for tonight."
The old showman sighed, but his smile never left his face. "Alright, Ash. I'm goin' home."
And he did go home. Buster Moon was at home, in his apartment, for the remainder of the day and into the night. He knew it must've been unhealthy that he was practically itching to get some work done, but he couldn't help himself. There had been multiple times during the day whenever he had to physically refrain himself from walking out of his door and making his way back to the theatre. Maybe it was because he felt more at home in the theatre than in his own apartment, or maybe it was because of the work that still needed to be done. Maybe it was a mixture of both. By the time it was eight o'clock in the evening, Buster felt like he'd been in a fist fight with himself. He did his best to keep in mind Ash's worries, which helped a lot in terms of controlling himself and spiraling into a fit of workaholism. The showman decided it would be best for him to just take a hot shower and curl up with one of his favorite books. Maybe some calming tea, too, since everyone had been getting on him lately about how much coffee he'd been consuming.
After figuring that was the best route to take, seeing as all of his things were already packed, Buster hopped in the shower. He typically took short, brisk showers. But tonight, he allowed himself to stand and wait. Not exactly relax; he hadn't really been able to do that since... everything happened back at Redshore. But he could wait; wait until his next task. That's what he could do instead. So, he stayed in the shower for approximately thirty minutes before hopping out, thankful that his wound had healed enough that he no longer felt the need to cover it with a bandage just to take a shower. It was still sore, of course, but he'd gotten used to that. He had limits, now, and even though Buster hated to admit it, it became glaringly obvious whenever he couldn't reach as high, walk as long, or sometimes even run. He was still healing, which killed him, but he attempted to keep his patience. Patience and peace were the things he was looking to keep at this time, especially since his mind had been plagued since the night of Redshore City with thoughts and memories and sensations that he was stuck feeling all of the time, all at once. He'd never experienced something like this before... these feelings were suffocating Everything reminded him of that night. Everything. He was never free from his memories. His flashbacks. Sometimes his... hallucinations. But he kept it together, if not for himself, he knew he could do it for his family.
Buster sighed as he entered the living area, making a quick B-line for the kitchen and making himself a fresh cup of tea. He didn't add any sugar; just left it alone and waited in silence for it to finish brewing. Silence. Hm, no. That wouldn't do. Moon didn't have a TV; it wasn't like he couldn't afford one, he was just always too busy to actually catch up on anything on television, and he could never sit down and watch a whole show for too long before getting smacked across the face with inspiration, jumping up, and getting back to work. He did, however, own a record player. Well, it wasn't really his. It had been his father's, and the gift had been passed down to Buster, like most of the other things his dad had owned, after his death. Buster smiled upon the decision to listen to music, instead, and made his way over to the record player. He opened the cabinet that held all of his records, already having a general idea of what he was looking for.
"Ah, there we go," he murmured to himself, finding the vinyl of Harry Collie Jr. and putting it into place on the player. He removed the needle slowly and carefully, placing it gently over the record and waiting until the warm fuzziness faded into a song:
"I remember the days
Of just keeping time
Of hanging around in sleepy towns,
Forever"
Buster grabbed his freshly brewed tea and set off to the couch, placing his mug gently on one of his coasters before taking a book off the end table right next to the armrest. Rosita had gotten it for him while he was in the hospital, actually. It wasn't one of those cheesy "I Know How To Make You Feel Better" books, but one that Buster had actually mentioned he wanted to read before, which made it much more meaningful that Rosita had 1.) Remembered that was the book he'd wanted to get for himself, and 2.) Not tried to force productivity on him the moment he was up and running. Because, if Buster was completely honest with himself, he already did that every waking moment he was alive. It was a dramatic tale, of course, following the journey of a fellow creative as they slip away into a dark world full of doubts and regrets, and they must ban together with new friends and learn to trust themself enough to escape. It was cheesy, sure, but indulging in dramatic stories like this one was one of Buster's guilty pleasures. He started reading.
"Back roads empty for miles
Well you can't have a dream
And cut it to fit
But when I saw you, I knew
We go together, like a wink and a smile"
The song playing on the record across the room distracted Buster, but not in an especially irritating way. He loved this song; he'd always loved it, but now... something was different. He could imagine himself within the song. Imagine it with someone else. Buster's face grew hot as he continued to listen.
"Leave your old jalopy
By the railroad track
We'll get a hip, double-dip, tip toppy
2 seat Pontiac"
The showman smiled a little at his own imagination, resting the book on his lap and sinking back into the cushions.
"So you can rev her up
Don't go slow
It's only green lights and alright
Let's go together, with a wink and a smile"
Buster no longer felt the need to read his book. For the first time in a long time, he no longer felt like doing anything productive. Well, productive is a relative term. He found himself, at this moment, being quite productive. He felt at home, and it wasn't because of the fact that he was in his apartment. The air around him felt warm, and for the time being, just for the night, he felt like he could be slow. He felt like he had the permission of something more important than his ego to take it easy. To just rest and listen. And so he did. Buster stayed on that couch, cuddled up in his blanket, sipping his tea, and thinking. Thinking of his family. Thinking of their excitement. Thinking about how great of an opportunity this was going to be. And, in the back of his mind, thinking about a certain Saluki who he was truly ecstatic to see in the hours to come.
