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Sam Wyer

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6,500 I'm The Poster Child For Success

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About Sam Wyer

  • Rank
    Manic Poster

Profile Information

  • Age in Years
    39
  • Gender
    Male
  • Sexuality
    Gay
  • Favorite Genres
    Everything
  • Location
    UK
  • Interests
    People.

Contact Methods

  • Public Email
    sam_wyer@outlook.com

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  1. So... For the handful of people that will read this, I want to offer a brief update.

    Things have not been awesome.  This isn't a plea for pity, just a statement of fact.  And in time, things will return to being perfectly OK.  But one of the immediate impacts is that my writing takes a knock, and I'm acutely aware of an unfinished (and yes I hate it anyway) story, not to mention the many others that are not even that developed/publicly available.  What can I say, it will all end eventually and the stores will return.

    On top of this, there is the inescapable COVID scenario, which just continues to demonstrate the innate capacity of humankind to wilfully ignore the blatantly obvious and desperately hope that things will just 'work out OK'.  What I have noticed, amongst other things, is that at times like this, I really don't have the capacity to read yet another story about some beaten, abused, abandoned, neglected kid.  And yes, at some future moment you can of course come back and quote me back to myself when I post it.  But it's far too difficult to read that stuff right now, and I feel surrounded by it.

    So here I am.  Struggling, but I will eventually be OK, which I know puts me at a significant advantage to many others.   Hope you are all surviving at the very least, and that I will be back in a more meaningful capacity in the near future.

    Take care.

    Sam

    1. Show previous comments  3 more
    2. Talo Segura

      Talo Segura

      You nailed it! I'm reluctant to say it, but it's getting worse (here in Europe, France, Spain). But you know what the Britsh say - It always gets worse, before it gets better. 

    3. chris191070

      chris191070

      :hug:Look after yourself 

    4. Timothy M.

      Timothy M.

      I know you don't like hugs, so I'll send a kind wave from Denmark. 🖐️

  2. It’s interesting you mention that ...
  3. I totally get the sentiment. But Jake is with it, surely? Isn’t he? Despite his flaws. Yeah - I know, I know what happens.
  4. Sam Wyer

    In to the bedroom

    I see where you’re coming from. It wasn’t what I was thinking but a reasonable question for sure.
  5. That’s a totally fair perspective. I know you have read ahead but let’s see what happens
  6. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 2

    I'm sure we've all met people who are a real Rick 😄
  7. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 2

    ~~~ You Can Sleep While I Dream ~~~ Anders parked up next to the stage door, and was not at all surprised that there was no-one to meet him. Stevie was a nice guy, but not very organised. Ordinarily this would have been annoying to deal with for Anders, but Stevie also happened to manage his favourite music venue in town. The Wave was not the biggest, but it was definitely the best. He grabbed his mobile and dialled. “Hey Brid, I’m outside, can someone open the door?” “Yeah, no worries, Stevie is on his way down.” Anders hung up and leaned against his van, daydreaming about what else he could have been doing. A minute later the stage door opened and Stevie walked out. “Anders! It’s so good to see you!” Stevie's smile reminded Anders of a second-hand car salesman “Oh wow, is it that bad?” The two men hugged briefly, but this was not a social occasion. “What? No, no. Just, thank you.” “Yeah, we’ll see about that. So what are they like?” “Erm… you’ll see.” Anders rolled his eyes at Stevie, knowing full well that that was not good news. He followed him inside and on to the stage, where the rest of the band were waiting, all heads turning towards the diminutive Swiss and his permanently untidy blonde hair. “Rick, this is Anders, he can fill in for tonight at least. Anders, this is Rick Danes, and the others are…” But Stevie didn’t have chance to finish introductions as Rick pushed past him to move closer to Anders, standing directly in front of him. The look of derision was unmistakable. “Hi” said Anders in slightly wearisome tone, realising what was about to play out and having been through it enough times before. Rick did not respond and turned back towards Stevie. “You said you could find me a good drummer.” “And I have, Anders is…” “No, what you’ve found is a deaf kid.” Rick quickly scanned the rest of the band, clearly expecting some kind of response only found averted gazes. “Sure Rick, OK, but you really just need to trust me here, Anders is…” “He’s wearing fucking hearing aids!” Stevie looked to Anders apologetically, but not quickly enough to stem the flash of anger that was unmistakable to anyone paying attention. “OK, Rick.” Anders’ accent was his usual mix of English as a second language as well as sounding slightly thick as is common with people who have hearing impairment. And yet together with his deliberate over-enunciation of Rick’s name, there was no mistaking his feelings. “Firstly, I’m not a kid, I’m 23. Secondly, they’re not hearing aids, they’re implants. And thirdly, as far as I can tell, you don’t have much choice. I can go home and have a very good day, or I can stay here and help you not have the worst ever opening night of the season.” Rick, thinking he was still holding the winning hand, did little to attenuate his tone. “OK kid, let’s hear what you’ve got.” Rick gestured towards the drum kit set up at the back of the stage. Hearing the familiar, if stifled snort of amusement from Brid, Anders looked briefly around, but was unable to see her in the darkness off the edges of the stage. “You want an audition? Really? You think we have time for that? OK.” Anders proceeded to carefully dismantle and move away about half of the very sizeable kit that was already set up. “What are you doing?” Asked Rick, both amused and bemused. “Clearing away the crap that I don’t need. We’re playing rock, right? Not a fucking orchestral suite.” Flipping the drum stool upside down he pulled off the rubber feet before placing it back in position and sitting down. “Sorry Brid, wherever you are, I’m going to scratch your floor again.” Anders made some final minor positional adjustments and pulled out a pair of Vaders from his back pocket, placing the sticks that had been there on the floor behind him. He gave the kick and snare a couple of experimental hits, trying to get a feel for the kit before making some minor adjustments to the hi-hat. Off to the side of the stage, Nico looked on as usual, without saying a word and failing to suppress a smile. Anders reached back and unclipped his implants, immediately plunging into the familiar silence. He could turn them off from his phone app, but he didn’t trust technology as much as physically disconnecting them. After closing his eyes for a moments pause, Anders launched in to a relatively soft and simple set, covering most of the basics but really just using it as a physical warm-up exercise. After a couple of minutes, he was feeling relaxed enough to properly play. The pace picked up as the easy introductions migrated towards some classic rock beats and breaks, which was already probably more than enough to see him through the gig. But Anders continued, transforming the rhythm, morphing into doubles and triplets, pushing further, until he was quite self-consciously going all out drum solo, designed purely to show off. A good drum solo is not just about technicality, it’s a whole self-contained song which expresses feeling and style, and Anders was very comfortable in this world, building up to an intense crescendo and finished with the time honoured crash cymbal. Sometimes the only way to deal with arrogance like Rick’s is to do the same. By the time he finished, sweat was covering his body, and he could perceive the silence from the band even before he reconnected his implants. “So? Can we get on with rehearsing now? Or do you want to waste even more time?” “I guess you’ll do.” Rick seem unable to say anything overtly positive. “I’ll do? Fuck that, I can just as easily go home…” Anders stood, as if to leave. “OK, OK, you were good.” “Cool. So, sort out the set list and I’ll get my gear in. Is it just you guys, like, only guitars?” “Yeah, why?” “Fine. OK, so we’ll need a line for the Octopad too.” Anders turned away from Rick, towards the back of the venue. “Brid? Is anyone around to give me a hand?” Before she had time to answer, Nico stepped out of the blackness at the side of the stage. “Hey Anders, sure, I’ll help.” Less than an hour later, and Anders has replaced the band’s kit with his own, and is ready to begin rehearsals. Nico worked around him to install some additional audio monitors and a video screen. “What do you need the monitors for if you can’t hear anything?” Rick was clearly always going to be a bit of an ass, but Anders was used to this question. “It’s so I can feel the music. If I leave my implants connected it’s way too loud and mashes my head, but this way, I can still feel it.” This explanation was mostly true, but also Anders just preferred it this way. “And the screen?” “So I can see you, because, you know, I won't be able to hear you.” Rick clearly did not understand. “Whatever. So we’ll run through the whole set, yeah?” Stated Rick. Anders scanned through the scrawled set list, which seemed very straight forward. “Sure, we can, but I’d recommend we do beginnings and ends, links, and then anything that deviates from the standard arrangement. If you just want something that sounds like the album or the single recording then just tell me which and we don’t particularly need to spend long on that. I’m sure I’ll get a feel for you guys soon enough.” “Cocky little fuck aren’t you?” Rick seemed to be smiling, despite his words. “Just trying to make the most of the time we have.” “Whatever. So we open with Let It Rock…” The newly formed band tried it a couple of times, crashing the intro horribly. "OK, guys, Rick, hang on." Anders interrupted before they could try it again. "Rick, when you count in, I really need you to look either at me, or to the front, because when you look off stage then I can't tell what is happening. Or you can click or something, or tap your foot, anything I can see. Otherwise this isn't going to work unless I count us in." "No way, I'll do it. Just pay attention alright?" Another couple of attempts and they finally made a full run through the first track. Anders was making notes as he went. “OK, you happy?” Asked Rick “Sure, so then what happens?” Replied Anders. “You’ve got the set list in front of you…” “No, I mean, what’s the link? Do we pause? Do you talk? Do we go straight in to Raise Your Hands?” “No, I’ll introduce us, say something, and then I’ll bring us in.” They continued to slowly work through the opening tracks, stopping, repeating sections, until everyone was happy. Almost everyone. “OK, guys, can I make a suggestion.” Anders had stopped the rehearsal, again, and could see that the rest of the band were becoming frustrated. “Look, I know you’re getting pissed off, but this is going OK, we’ll be fine. But the opening, it’s not very strong.” “Oh really? Now I’m being lectured by a fucking kid? Do you know how long I’ve been doing this?” Rick turned to face Anders straight on, whilst Anders estimated the answer to be about 30 years and two marriages. “No. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be improved. I know this shit, you should talk less. You’ve got some strong classics opening the show, but you’re interrupting them with all the talking. Just… shut up a little and play, we can segue straight through the first three, I can fill it if you want to underscore you 16 or 32 between each one to keep the momentum and it will really build the opening energy.” “What? No, that’s not how we do it…” “Can we at least try it? Look, I know you might not like me, but this is my reputation just as much as yours.” “What reputation? You’re just a kid.” “Yeah whatever. But I’m a kid with a very full diary and plenty of studios with my number on speed-dial. I promise if you totally hate it, I’ll shut up and just do whatever you want. No matter what it sounds like.” Anders looked to the other guys, who seemed to be at least open to the idea. In fact, in a boost to Anders not inconsiderable ego, they seemed to be enjoying the changes, or at least someone standing up to Rick. “OK, we’ll try it. Once.” Fifteen minutes later, and the changes were confirmed before they all moved on through the set. Time was going to be a little tight, but they would finish with an hour at least to spare before they opened. ~~~ Let It Rock ~~~ “No Mum, I’m not staying in all night, we’re supposed to be on holiday.” She staggered slightly, having retrieved another bottle from the kitchen counter. “Take Tyler with you then. I don’t want him complaining around me all night.” “Again? Can’t I have one fucking night out on my own?” As usual, when the arguing got too much for her, she retreated into silence. “Fine. He’s better off away from you anyway.” Tommy walked in to his bedroom, banging on his brother's door as he went. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands as he tried to calm down. Tyler emerged a few seconds later. “What?” Tyler’s eyes were red, but he persisted in trying not to cry as he stood in Tommy’s doorway. “Fucking hell Ty, what’s up now? We’re going out, so go get ready yeah?” “Where?” “I don’t know, just out.” Tommy’s words were clipped. “It’s OK, I know you don’t want to take me. You never do.” Tommy looked up at his brother, reminding himself that he’s a lot younger and maybe can’t deal with stuff as well. “Come here Ty.” Tommy stood and hugged his little brother. “It’s not that I don’t want you with me, I just wanted a night on my own.” He kissed his brothers head as he left to finish getting dressed. The two boys walked along the seafront, seeing what had changed since they were here the year before. Tommy even allowed candy floss and doughnuts, which were mostly eaten by Tyler. As they approached The Wave Tommy eyed the various posters and displays advertising the shows they had over the summer season. “Hey munchkin, you want to go see a band?” “Oh god, like a real band? Or your weird old music kind of band?” “Come on, you might even like it.” “I’ve heard your music, it’s weird and just… weird. And old.” “It’ll be like a concert, and you’ve never been to a concert so come on, you can try it.” “Can I have beer?” “No, you can have Coke.” “Fine, but I’m choosing what we do all next week.” They queued for tickets, with Tommy paying out of his own money for the two of them, before buying a beer and a Coke and heading in to the venue. It wasn’t anywhere near to sold out, but busy enough to not feel empty. Tommy found space for them nearer the front. “There aren’t any seats here?” Tyler asked. “No, it’s not a sitting down type of thing.” The unexpected waiting due to the delayed start time did nothing to reduce Tyler’s complaining, but it was at least getting busier and even a whiny twelve year old could feel the anticipation rising in the crowd. Finally, the lights dimmed, and the crowd started to cheer. “It’s going to be loud Ty!” Tyler said something in response, but was drowned out by the guitar intro blasting through the darkness. As the music built, the lights followed, illuminating the band from behind. It seemed that everyone knew the song, except Tyler, so the very brief pause just added to the tension before… the drums, the lights, the screams from the crowd, it was like the venue exploded into life. Tommy felt the warmth of familiarity, it might not be trendy for people his age now, but rock music felt like it belonged in his soul. Meanwhile, Tyler stared open mouthed at the spectacle, his senses on the edge of overload. Tommy’s initial surge of adrenaline was quickly replaced by something altogether different. He’d looked at other guys before, of course, but this, him, who the fuck is that? His short blonde hair seemed to Tommy to be shining, glittering almost in the lights. The ripped sleeves of his t-shirt barely containing his well-defined arms, and just… the energy, the passion. Tommy laughed at himself, such a cliché, but he kept finding his gaze drawn time and time again back to the drummer. There’s no harm in looking, right?
  8. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 1

    It's good to be back 😁 And yes, it's always 'fun' when people assume you have all the time in the world and the desire to help them 😂
  9. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 1

    No, it's definitely not Tommy 😂.
  10. Those burgers sound delicious. Making me hungry already.
  11. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 1

    I promise that at least some of those questions will be answered Eventually.
  12. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 1

    Your favourite? Am I not the only one? 😁 And yes, clearly, just wait! I'm aiming for weekly-ish updates. This might be more 'ish' than 'weekly' but all will become clear, or increasingly less clear.
  13. Sam Wyer

    Anders

    Anders is a deaf musician - which brings its own challenges. He is also struggling to find love. Will this Summer be the time for that to change?
  14. Sam Wyer

    Chapter 1

    ~~~ Any Other Day ~~~ Anders lay across his bed, head hanging over one side as he mindlessly stared at the television. Theoretically up and awake, but only just. It had been a long week in the studio and he had not got home until the early hours of the morning. Having exhausted all possibilities of terrible daytime television, he decided to actually get up and maybe even have breakfast. Pulling on some jeans and an old hoodie he looked out of the window to check on the van, promising himself that he would go and unload his gear from it right after he had coffee. He turned off the TV and put some music on, turning the volume up super-loud, closing his eyes, and enjoying the vibrations from the speakers blasting towards him. He dozed again for a while longer, until the need for coffee was too strong to ignore. Finally, he headed out, leaving his bedroom door open without really thinking about it, he was most likely home alone. He made a large pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table catching up on his emails and social media when his attention was interrupted by the red flashing light just in his eye-line on the kitchen counter. The doorbell. Damn, how long has that been flashing for. Anders instinctively reached behind his ears and connected his implants, only to be immediately assaulted by the excessively loud music he’d left playing earlier. “Bollocks” he said to himself, before running to open the door. “Sorry!” He tried to yell over the music. The delivery guy was attempting to do the same, but it was pointless, as neither could hear the other. “Hold on, sorry.” Anders left the guy standing at the door while he ran back to his room to stop the music, before trying the whole thing again. “Hi” He said to the delivery guy, who was looking more than a little annoyed. “These need signing for.” The man thrust some letters towards Anders who checked the name. They were for mostly his grandfather, so probably nothing at all interesting. But there was also a small parcel addressed to Anders himself. “OK, sure. Thank you.” Anders smiled politely, but the delivery guy just walked off without any further acknowledgement. Leaving the letters on the kitchen table, Anders returned to his room, unwrapping the parcel on the way. As he expected, it was a couple of CDs along with a hand-written note. ‘Anders - thought you might like these! First pressing, check out the back cover, you get a credit AND you’re in the photo. Thank you SO MUCH and the offer will always stand, we’ll sack Kenny any day if you want to tour!’ Anders turned over the CD case and smiled to himself, remember the band from a couple of months ago. They were definitely going to make it big, good for them. And they were right, there he was, credited on the back cover of both CDs along with the rest of the band, and about three quarters of him on the edge of the photo. Apart from the kudos, this meant he would also get royalties. He took a couple of photos with his phone and posted them to his social media accounts. Looking out of the window at the van again, he told himself that he’ll unload it later in the afternoon. There was no rush. ~~~ Maybe Someday ~~~ Tommy finished unpacking his suitcase, trying his best to find enough space in the cramped caravan bedroom so that his clothes wouldn’t get too creased. At least he had his own room this year and didn’t have to share with his little brother. He checked his mobile, relieved to find that there was a signal, knowing that he would be grateful for the potential distraction offered by the internet over the coming couple of months. He walked out into the narrow hallway which was also the kitchen, closing the flimsy door behind him and was met with the sight of his mother laying on the sofa with a bottle of wine already half empty. A scene that, if every other year of his life was anything to go by, would only deteriorate further over the course of the holiday, inevitably leaving him to look after himself and his brother. In fact, it was really no different to them all being at home, but at least here there was the beach and the sea. “Mum?” There was no obvious response, but Tommy knew to wait, sometimes she was just slow. “Mum, we need to go and buy food.” She turned to look at him, and then looked away again, grabbing the remote and flicking on the TV. Tommy sighed, knowing that this was already a conversation that was over. “OK, I’m taking some money from your purse then, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” As Tommy turned to leave, he grabbed a hoodie from his room. It might be called Summer, but in the UK, that’s no guarantee of warmth. “Take Tyler with you!” Her voice was as shrill as usual. Great, now you can speak to me. Tommy picked up his Mum’s purse and opened it, taking all of the cash he could find. Not that food would cost that much, but if he kept it safe his Mum would not be able to drink it all away and they would have enough money to buy food throughout the whole holiday. He had his own money from working too, but didn’t see why he should be buying everything out of his own pocket if she could drink whatever she wanted. He checked that the small freezer in the kitchen corridor worked before walking in to Tyler's room, next door to his own. “Come on Munchkin, we need to go shopping.” “Don’t call me that! Mum!” She didn’t respond to Tyler’s whining. “Fine, whatever, but we still need to go shopping if you want to eat and I can’t carry everything on my own.” Tommy picked up a couple of shopping bags. “Is Mum coming?” “No.” Tommy didn’t know if his brother was being sarcastic, or if he really didn’t understand what their life was like. Either way, they never talked about it, it would not make things any better. Closing the door behind them, the two brothers started walking out of the caravan site. “At least we’re on holiday closer to town this year Tommy! You can nearly see the beach.” Tyler was seemingly positive about their situation at least. “Yeah, I guess.” Tommy struggled to find as many positives as Tyler seemed to be able to, but then, he had eleven more years' experience of this than him, and he knew that he would end up looking after the two of them, just like at home, so calling it a holiday seemed meaningless. It was a twenty-minute walk to the supermarket, having to pass a much closer but also more expensive one on the way, as if to mock them. Despite their near constant bickering, the brothers got on well enough and were used to shopping together. Tommy still had to keep an eye on his brother’s choices though. They were not poor, but they didn’t have loads of money to waste either, so treats were limited. ~~~ Story Of My Life ~~~ The weather was slowly improving as the week progressed, and by Friday it was definitely warm. Anders, despite the numerous promises to himself had still not finished unloading the van, and had instead been using his old kit for his daily practice sessions. Not that he had any work planned, but it was an important part of his routine. Almost every day of the year included several hours of drumming, and then whatever other musical instrument he felt like at the time. One of the deciding factors in him moving in with his grandparents was their assurance of building him a studio space, which they came through with exactly as promised. So now, one end of the house is split between living and practice space for him, with his grand-parents living in the rest of the property, for the most part undisturbed. Having made grilled cheese and chips and convincing himself that it was a healthy lunch, Anders was planning on a quiet afternoon outside, probably walking out to the nature reserve and reading, or just sitting and enjoying the space. He liked how it was so quiet, other than the wind and the birds, yet only a fifteen-minute walk away from home. Somehow it balanced the noise and chaos that comes with music. He packed some water, and a jacket and was trying to decide on a book when his mobile interrupted his thoughts. “Hey Stevie, what’s up?” Not that Anders was naturally suspicious, but Stevie usually wanted something. “Anders! My man! How are you doing?” “I’m good, yeah, enjoying a quiet week, you know. Or at least I was.” “Sounds good to me, so listen, you know how you said you owed me a favour?” “Why don’t I like the sound of this Stevie?” Anders gave up his book browsing and sat on the edge of his bed. “So, there’s this band, they’re here for the season, and they suddenly need a drummer.” “Who ‘suddenly’ needs a drummer? That's bollocks, what happened?” “As far as I can tell he got pissed and broke his wrist.” “Wow, OK. I don’t know if I know anyone who’s available but I can phone a few people and see. There might be a student…” “Yeah, the thing is…” Anders knew that tone. “What?” “They kind of need a drummer, like right now. For tonight. So, I was wondering if you could…” “For fuck sake Stevie, when I said a favour, I meant like buying you a couple of beers or something.” “I know, I know. But I don’t know who else to ask.” “OK, so who’s the band?” “They’re called Jon Bovi.” “Jon Bovi?” Anders asked, incredulously. Not that Stevie could see it, but he could probably hear Anders rolling his eyes. “Yeah, they’re a tribute band, you know, for Bon Jovi?” “No shit. What time’s the gig?” “Supposed to be at eight, but we can push it back half an hour if it helps. And…” “And?” “And tomorrow night as well?” Anders checked his watch. It was perfectly achievable; he just wasn’t sure he wanted to. But nicety won out. “If I regret this, I’m going to kill you.” “Thanks Anders, I fucking owe you for this!” Anders started to grab a clean t-shirt and jeans as he carried on talking. “Yeah, you do. Tell Brid I’ll be at the stage door in about forty-five minutes. “ “I will.” “And if someone can message me the set list, that’ll be great.” “OK, see you soon.” “Bye man.” Anders finished getting changed before heading through to the studio to pick up the few things he had managed to unload so far, and loading them back in to the van. The drive is only a couple of miles, and with Anders choosing the side roads over the more direct but always busy seafront route he was confident of making it on time. Before leaving he wrote a brief note for his grandparents, not that they ever expected him to be home by a certain time, but he liked to let them know where he was going to be. ~~~ Lie To Me ~~~ Brid dragged the last of the empty flight cases off the stage, pushing it in to a dark corner out of the way as she tidied up around the band. Being a technician, she was well used to being ignored, some performers we just arrogant asses, and this band did not seem to be any different. Satisfied that things were as tidy as they needed to be, for the time being at least, she walked over and sat opposite Nico, grabbing a bottle of water on the way. “So, guess what - I overheard Stevie on the phone just now”. She said, smiling. “So?” “Yeah, sounds like your boyfriend is coming in to play with the band tonight.” She smiled as she teased Nico. “Fuck off.” Nico looked away, trying his best not to be interested in this news. “Really though? Anders is coming in? For these guys?” “That’s what I heard.” “And he’s not my boyfriend, stop saying that.” “Yeah, well, who’s fault is that. You just need to actually talk to him. Or I could?” “What? Don’t you dare say anything!” “I’d be doing it for me, not you. Seriously, how long do I have to watch you staring at him every time he’s here, and listen to you going on, and on, and on…”. “I do not!” “Sure Nico. What was his last gig?” “Well that was actually like three weeks ago because then he’s been recording down in London with… Shut up.” Nico grabbed the water from Brid’s hand, taking a couple of mouthfuls before throwing it back at her. “I just don’t get it, you’re cute, if you like that sort of thing, just go talk to the guy. Honestly, last time we were out he was talking about… well I just think you should give it a go.” “It’s alright for you, he likes you. He doesn’t even notice me.” “Oh my god, I swear Nico, one day, I’m going to bash your head in.” “You’ll never catch me. Anyway, if you’re right, we should put in some extra monitor speakers, and maybe get a video feed sorted too. You know… for Anders?’ Brid raised her eyebrows as she made a face at Nico, smiling all the time. “Ooooh, for Anders.” Repeated Brid, imitating Nico’s accent. “OK, you start on the cabling, I’ll go find some more monitors.”
  15. You just can't help it can you
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