Feedback: it's like oxygen.........
Part One
The bell hanging over the door of 'Symphony of Sound' jangled merrily as Giles stepped inside, Dawn following close behind in full babble-mode.
"Are you sure this is such good idea, Giles? I mean, I don't want to waste all my money buying something I'll only use once..."
For a moment, Giles was glad that Dawn was trailing behind him so that she couldn't see the wide grin stretching across his face. "That's very mature of you, Dawn." A small chuckle escaped, and he couldn't help but cheekily add, "After all, it's not as if you had intended to do so anyway, is it? Those shoes you were saving for were for everyday use, weren't they?"
"Alright... alright. Point made smart-ass." She continued to grumble good-naturedly as they picked their way past the racks of sheet music to the instrument display at the back of the shop.
"Anyway," Giles stated as they passed the brass instrument section, "it's not as if you're actually buying a guitar, you know. The hire scheme is perfectly suited for our needs."
"But Giles..." Dawn caught herself mere seconds before her words became a whine, although the pout in her voice could still be heard as she muttered away half-to-herself. "I still don't see why we couldn't have just used yours."
Giles stopped mid-stride, pinching the bridge of his nose in barely-concealed irritation while he counted silently to ten. Eventually, he emitted a soft sigh and turned to face his charge. "Think of your favourite pen, Dawn... the purple one with the silver sparkles that you never, ever lend to anyone... not even Kimberly. Why do you do that? Is it because you're afraid she might lose it? Or that she'll chew the end? Or snap the clip? Or worse still, damage the nib so that it doesn't write like it used to?"
She gave a small nod, sensing where this was going. "All of the above."
"Well, then. Now magnify that into something less easily replaced, more personal and, by far, more expensive. You see, Dawn, a musician's instrument is much like a writer's pen - or an artist's paints. Each instrument is unique to the individual... the sound, the feel..."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Like Harry's wand." Dawn grinned as Giles blinked in confusion.
"Harry...?"
"I believe she's referring to Harry Potter, my friend."
Giles whirled as a familiar voice sounded behind him before he was drawn into a warm embrace.
"Rupert! It's so good to see you again." The aging gentleman grinned affectionately as he released the Englishman. "You know, you had me worried for a while, there. When Robin told me you were in the hospital, I was afraid it was serious."
Giles allowed himself to smile softly at the other man's concern. "It was only a concussion. They just wanted to keep me in for surveillance."
"Still... you can't fault me for worrying. I was under the impression you'd walk though fire in order to be on the doorstep first thing for the music delivery."
Giles let out a hearty laugh, sending Dawn's eyebrows skywards. It was rare to see him so exhilarant.
"I wouldn't go that far. Although, while I'm here, would you mind...?" Giles winked, inclining his head toward the back room, where he knew his delivery would be awaiting his attentions.
"Not at all. But first..." The other man changed the subject in the space of a heartbeat, letting his gaze rest on Dawn, who was staring at him with undisguised curiosity. "You must be Dawn."
Her eyes widened even as she hesitantly shook his proffered hand. "How did you...?"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry; I forgot that you hadn't met." A faint pink tinged Giles' neck by way of apology as he made the necessary introductions. "Dawn, this is Mister Andrews. As you may have guessed, he owns this store... and he has become a good friend. David, this is Dawn Summers, whom I spoke of this morning."
"Just as I thought." The other man nodded his head and gave the teen a warm smile. "So, young lady, I understand you're looking for a guitar. Hmm..." There was a period of silence while David absently stroked his chin, taking in her slender form as he considered his stock. Eventually, he cleared his throat and spoke once more. "Why don't you two come with me?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked toward the rear of the store, still chatting amiably over his shoulder. "I know just the thing. Trust me on this, it'll be perfect."
In companionable silence, Giles and Dawn allowed him to lead them toward a display of various classical, acoustic and electric guitars, complete with accessories and watched as he honed in on a pretty, not-quite-full-sized, Spruce guitar.
"May I?"
David wordlessly nodded at Giles' request and handed him the guitar, listening in appreciation as the Englishman fine-tuned the strings, before plucking out a soft melody.
"Yes," Giles softly murmured, running his hand over the smooth veneers of the wood. "I should think this would be fine." He looked up at the other man, deep respect for his friend radiating from his eyes. "How you do that is beyond me. You always seem to know which instrument will suit the customer." He chuckled softly. "I bow in awe of your superior knowledge and talent."
"Me? Talent?" David joined in the laughter, his piercing blue eyes twinkling with amusement at Giles' modesty. "Oh, no... that's no gifting... just the result of years of practice. You, on the other hand, are the personification of true talent. I could never play like you, my friend. Never, in a million years."
Giles opened his mouth, intent on denying the compliment, until a cool hand on his bare forearm stopped him. He glanced down to see the youngest Summers sister grinning at him while addressing David.
"He really appreciates your kind words, Mister Andrews... although he'd never admit it."
Again, David burst into laughter while Giles just glared at Dawn. Unfazed, she smiled brightly back at him, deciding that she liked Giles' new friend. "So... are we gonna rent it, or not?" She reached out a hand and ran a single finger lightly over the steel strings.
"Yes." His glare softened as he answered her. "We are. David," he turned and placed the guitar in the waiting hands of the older man as he spoke, "would you happen to have a soft case that we could rent as well? Oh, and if we could have a capo and an assortment of plectrums while you're at it, that would be lovely."
"No problem at all." David was still smiling as he walked to the backroom. With one hand clasping the neck of the guitar and the other on the door handle, he was halfway through the archway when Giles' voice called to him across the shop-floor.
"Don't forget my-"
"Music. I won't." David turned and winked once more at Giles, before resuming the task at hand.