Winslow paced around the small room he'd been cooped up in for far too long. In all honesty, he really wasn't sure how many days or even weeks he had been laying in bed recuperating, but it had at least seemed like a long time. He was tired of being stuck in bed and having Dr. Peters give him pills to choke down.
The bright side was that he was able to move around without so much pain. He had a good bit of strength back, but he knew he wasn't fully healed just yet. No more IVs. He had been instructed not to wear his tight leather costume until his wounds had healed up. He felt uncomfortably naked with it. Swan had given him his helmet back a few days ago though so at least he wasn't completely exposed. He had spent his time by worrying about Phoenix and coming up with so many theories as to why Swan even bothered to keep him alive that he had increased his anxiety more than eased it.
Winslow huffed and turned to the door. He had to give himself a break from his own thoughts and he wouldn't be able to do that in here. He went over to the door and twisted the knob raising his eyebrow when he found it wasn't locked like he had thought it would be. He opened the door and peered out with his good eye to see if there was anyone nearby. But the hall was empty, not even any of Swan's guards were around. He opened the door the rest of the way and paused. He glanced down at the pajamas he was forced to wear still and decided to wear his cape as a sort of barrier around himself. Now that he felt a little better Winslow quietly wandered down the hall. He wasn't looking for anything in particular, he was simply bored. He went over to a window looking outside to see a lush backyard full of well kept trees and flowers bathed in warm sunlight. It almost seemed pleasant. He had no desire to venture outside though. Not yet anyway.
His bare feet carried him all through the hall and down the grand stairs to the main floor. He stared at the elaborate carvings that decorated every accent of the place. Gold trims and dark wood. Truly it all showed the luxurious life that Swan lived. It was also extremely deceiving, Winslow thought. He pressed his lips together as he reached the main hall when the large front doors. He remembered quite distinctly when he first entered through them. He could almost hear the mix of different female voices rehearsing their performances of his Faust. He shook his head also shaking off the chill that ran up his spine. He made himself move on to the next room which turned out to be the music room.
There were several different kinds of instruments displayed on the walls and such. Winslow took immediate notice of the keyboard that was standing against the far wall. He glanced behind him and still saw no one so he shut the door behind him. He went over to the keyboard and lightly traced his fingers along the keys. He missed making music and working on writing down his ideas for new works. He sat down at the keyboard and started playing, he played Faust almost instinctively. He knew it by heart after all. He shut his eye allowing himself to get lost in the notes and chords of his masterpiece. He couldn't bring himself to attempt to sing the words without his voice box, and even then he didn't think it would sound right. The sound of his cantata was soothing to him. It let him forget about what had happened and the confusion of his current situation for a moment.
The sound of clapping brought Winslow crashing back to reality. He let out an involuntary squawk of surprise and whipped around in his seat staring wide eyed at the person who now stood just inside the room. It took a moment for him to get past his own heart hammering in his ears, but once he did he realized something very important. His previously unnoticed one person audience was Beef.
Beef stood frozen in place at the sudden reaction to his applause. "Sorry...I heard you playing down the hall and-" he paused as a realization of his own came about. "You!"
Winslow got up rather slowly, keeping an eye on the man before him. Unlike when he'd last seen the performer Beef was more casually dressed. He still wore a bedazzled crop top though. However that wasn't important. What was important was how Beef was standing there still alive and seemingly unscathed.
"You're the creep that threatened me in the shower!" Beef pointed his finger at the masked man. He didn't make any attempt to get closer to him as he preferred not to get into a fight with him. When it was obvious that the odd individual wasn't going to say anything he lowered his arm. "...What're you doing here anyway?"
Winslow opened his mouth before reminding himself that he had no way of speaking. He closed his mouth and slowly raised his arms to gesture at his throat while shaking his head.
Beef watched him and got the idea. "You can't speak all of a sudden?"
Winslow shook his head and made an attempt to point out that his voice box was missing. But he figured that since that wasn't exactly something Beef likely noticed during their last encounter he gave up. He glanced around for some method of writing down his response, but there was nothing suitable to use.
Beef caught onto this as well and clicked his tongue, "Come with me." He headed out of the room expecting Winslow to follow him. Curiosity had outweighed fear and shock by this point. He had no idea who this guy was, but he definitely seemed interesting. Plus he could play piano pretty damn well. And there must be some important reason why Swan would let someone like that stay in his mansion.
Winslow stared after Beef. He was hesitant to follow him, but did so. He kept his cape wrapped around himself. He was totally out of his element here on more than one level. Why was Beef treating him with a certain amount of friendliness after what he'd done to him? To be quite honest, without the threat of another performer stealing his music he felt guilty for what he had done. He had been so consumed with rage that he didn't even think his plan to kill Beef through.
Beef lead Winslow to the kitchen and rummaged around. He found a notepad and a pencil and held them up victoriously. "There." he set them down on the table in front of Winslow and sat down.
Winslow looked from the pad to Beef seeing the expectant look on his face. He sat down across from him and started writing. He pushed what he'd written over to Beef.
How are you alive after your performance on opening night?
Beef read the question and shrugged, "That neon sign just barely missed me. It still shocked the hell outta me, but I spent a week or so here with Swan's doctor patching me up."
Winslow creased his eyebrow and scribbled on the notepad.
Swan brought me here and had his doctor care for me too.
Beef raised his eyebrows, "Well, I guess that explains why you're here then." He eyed Winslow a moment, "You're the one that tried to kill me with that lightning bolt, right?"
Winslow pressed his lips together and nodded.
You took my song and messed it up. I warned you that Phoenix was the only one who could sing it.
Beef frowned reading this and huffed, "I know. It's not like I had a choice, you know. Philbin wasn't gonna let me just waltz out of The Paradise on opening night."
Winslow blinked hearing this and thought for a moment. He supposed that with everything that happened what he had tried to do didn't matter so much anymore. He hesitated before writing again.
I'm sorry. I thought you were ignoring what I said.
"Believe me, honey. If it had been up to me I would've been in Cincinnati by the time the curtains opened." Beef waved a hand and looked at Winslow again. He could clearly see the guilt written on his face, even with the mask. "Listen, why don't you tell me why you tried to kill me."
Winslow looked at Beef and nodded slowly. He owed Beef that at least. He did his best to explain that Swan had told him that Phoenix would perform his Faust, but had apparently stolen it again to have Beef perform it in his own way.
Beef read Winslow's explanation as he wrote it and frowned. "Well...I guess that explains it." He rested his chin in his hand and rested his elbow on the edge of the table. "So what's your name? You don't just go by...The Phantom or something, do you?"
Winslow considered this, he didn't really see much harm in telling Beef his name. He was bound to find out anyway. It would likely still surprise him a bit to find that he was talking to a dead man though.
I'm Winslow Leach. The composer.
Beef creased his eyebrows at this and looked at Winslow, "So I guess you're not as dead as the newspapers said, huh?" He saw Winslow shake his head and pressed his lips together a moment, he stood up turning away from him. "Coffee?"
Winslow nodded when Beef looked over his shoulder at him. He had had quite enough of the oatmeal he'd been given by Dr. Peters.
"If you and Swan have caused each other so much trouble, how come he brought you here to fix up?" Beef returned to the table with two fresh mugs of coffee. He set one down in front of Winslow and sat back down with his own.
Winslow shrugged, he'd tried to reason this very question out numerous times since he'd woken up and still didn't have a clear answer. Aside from what Swan told him at least. But Swan was always so vague.
Beef clicked his tongue and added cream and sugar to his coffee. "Well, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other until Swan tells us what he's got planned." He raised his eyebrows at Winslow.
Winslow gave a small nod of his head. He was actually dreading whatever it was Swan wanted from him. It couldn't possibly be good. He held the hot coffee between his hands rather enjoying the warmth from it.
"What's with the mask thing?" Beef gestured at Winslow's helmet curiously as he sipped his coffee.
Winslow was brought out of his thoughts hearing this. He looked at Beef unsurely. A new kind of dread settled in his stomach at the thought of Beef seeing his mangled face. Surely the man would be horrified by it. After all Beef always seemed to spend a lot of time making himself look good.
But why did he care so much about how Beef would react to his face? Maybe he was afraid to lose the one person who seemed to want to be around him now.
Beef noticed how Winslow seemed to zone out and creased his eyebrows. "Listen...you don't have to tell me." he put a hand on Winslow's arm trying to reassure him. He certainly looked taken aback by his question.
Winslow tensed instinctively under the man's touch and blinked looking down at Beef's hand. He slowly moved his arm away and focused his attention on the steam rolling out of his mug.
Beef wasn't really fazed by this reaction as he took his hand back. Winslow didn't seem to be too keen on physical contact. He was sure there was a valid reason why. He'd have to work on gaining the other man's trust is all. He offered a friendly smile, "My room's on the second floor down the hall on the left. I'm in there most of the time so if you wanna talk...or something." He waved his hand.
Winslow noticed Beef's attempt to cover up his mistake of mentioning talking to someone who currently couldn't. His lips twitched in the hint of a smile and he watched Beef leave the kitchen having finished his coffee. He looked back down at the dark liquid before him and stared at his reflection.
This was going to be quite an odd experience.