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(no subject)

Who: The intrepid crew of the SS Bloodsport!
Broadcast: Maybe?
Action: Probably!
When: Right now!

[SO HEY GUYS WHAT'VE YOU BEEN UP TO.

what's cooking on the Bloodsport? what fresh drama is unfolding?

has anyone thanked Robin for how the cargo hold doesn't smell like death and slowly-reversing decay anymore because that stuff was gross.]

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[Wow, he has to learn to be more specific when talking to Cole. ]

...Okay, how about we start with the chords?

All right.

I don't know what those are.

They're what makes music. Like...bricks and wood, that come together to make a building.

I think I understand that. Like watching Nadezhda making weapons in the smithy with Harritt. They take lumps of metal and wood and cloth and make beautiful things.

YES! Exactly like that. [He grins and shows his guitar, showing off the neck. ]

These are where you create the chords, pressing at a certain place, makes the string make a different sound.

I've never made anything before.

[He leans in, nodding and looking.]

Well, now you have a chance.

[He explains each chord giving a demonstration of each sound they make, and goes through the scales. ]

See? With these, you can make any music you want.

[He pays attention, but he's also listening to the memories behind the learning, the satisfaction of doing something he loves, the enjoyment of making something beautiful.]

It's beautiful.

[And of course, everything Manolo learned, he learned himself. Painstakingly figuring out each chord, while his father looked on in disappointment. It did nothing to ease the pride young Manolo felt, when he got it right.]

I like to think so.

[He offers the guitar over.]

Want to give it a try?

I might break it.

[He wouldn't want to damage Manolo's guitar. It means too much.]

Trust me, it's been through a lot, unless you throw it at the wall, it'll be fine.

I won't throw it at anything.

[He reaches out and hesitantly takes the guitar.]

I trust you won't.

See? That's not all that bad, is it? Try plucking a string.

[He doesn't hold it right, instead seating it across his lap and testingly plucking at a string, then another, making noises with simple, innocent curiosity.]

[Manolo doesn't correct him, not yet. It takes time to learn to hold one properly, and it helps to be able to see the strings. ]

There you are, amigo, you're getting it.

[He looks at the frets and presses one string down, experimenting with the way that shortening the string changes the pitch.

It's clearly not unfamiliar. Not familiar, but the guitar is similar enough to instruments he's seen that he's grasping it.]

It must take a lot to learn to make actual music from it.

It took me a while, but I got it eventually.

[Having to play it in secret didn't help any.]

[Cole keeps plucking, starting to make strange notes in sequences that don't make sense but seem to be pleasing to him.]

He didn't approve, but you were willing to risk disapproval for music.

[Manolo's smile fades, just for a second. ]

He just wanted the best for me, he didn't think music was that.

But he thought you played well. Beautifully.

[That surprises him, and it shows in his expression. ]

He...he did?

Yes. I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true.

[Cole keeps playing with the strings.]

I- I never knew that. I always thought he just hated it.

No. He thought you were very good. He just... wanted it to not be your passion.

[Manolo's shoulders sag a little, as he exhales. ]

No. He really didn't.