I wasn't a musician man myself. But I appreciated the art, often finding music helped my brain tick over its many thoughts. I was too analytically minded to be able to craft music myself, but I had known musician friends on Earth, and assumed they were much the same here - they lived and breathed their craft, they relished in the chance to share their creations.
At Glas' nod I beam broadly, pleased to have struck a deal with the boy - the way of trading goods here was different to Earth, where "money" had been invented and taken the place of trading, and I was also pleased with myself for adapting to this new way of thinking and living.
"Great," I said warmly in response, nodding as he began talking about timeframes, before seemingly silently posing a question as to how he would get in touch with me when it was complete. "No worries. I'm staying at Lenny's lodge, if I'm not there you can leave it with him." Hopefully he knew who Lenny was - the landlord was pretty well known in the small township.
"If you need something to do for the afternoon, I could use a hand copying some notes?" I ask, holding up a pile of pages that were ready to be duplicated, wondering if the boy was at all interested in spending his afternoon getting inked-stained fingers and otherwise sitting in an easy, comfortable silence with me.
At Glas' nod I beam broadly, pleased to have struck a deal with the boy - the way of trading goods here was different to Earth, where "money" had been invented and taken the place of trading, and I was also pleased with myself for adapting to this new way of thinking and living.
"Great," I said warmly in response, nodding as he began talking about timeframes, before seemingly silently posing a question as to how he would get in touch with me when it was complete. "No worries. I'm staying at Lenny's lodge, if I'm not there you can leave it with him." Hopefully he knew who Lenny was - the landlord was pretty well known in the small township.
"If you need something to do for the afternoon, I could use a hand copying some notes?" I ask, holding up a pile of pages that were ready to be duplicated, wondering if the boy was at all interested in spending his afternoon getting inked-stained fingers and otherwise sitting in an easy, comfortable silence with me.
Chulane
