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[color=gray]	A deep thriving surged through his veins whenever he strummed an unorthodox chord, unloading pristine springs of tremolo pickings and soothing his own mind with slow shifts in time signature and tempo. The guitar, obviously the same model as his own, was just the way he liked it. The craftsmanship of the telecaster was far-more surreal at times than that of a stratocaster, its more popular counterpart. People like Jonny Greenwood were also fond of picking up the more concise brother of the two models, which was one of his main inspirations for picking the instrument itself. Its pickups and size was perfectly balanced for his framework and offered some lightweight maneuverability which he desperately needed with his limitations. People kept on wandering past, watching him for ages as he sat, unknowingly for hours into the approaching evening, whilst people consolidated on whether he was a busker or not. Anyone who attempted to give him money was thanked, but dismissed politely as he calmly (though awkwardly) corrected their misjudgment. Eventually, his accidental accomplice, Julian, emerged from his hidey-hole and interrupted his current interpretation of solitary performance with a large pat on the back.[/color]

[color=green][b]"Mr McGuinness, you must be tired! You can go now, the machine is all yours and I got a small dose of customers more than before. Bugger off, my friend."[/b][/color] [color=gray]Silently, he smiled and thanked his acquaintance before allowing him to unplug everything and remove the priceless guitar from his fingertips. All that remained was the drum machine, to which he picked it up by its integrated handle, covered it in protective layers that had come with its packaging and started to lead himself astray of the shop. It wasn't long before he realised the concept of time still existed.

	Without a second to lose, he checked his phone at the fears of missing what he was scheduled to see, the orchestra. However, his luck seemed to be turning around once more as he still seemingly had 2 hours left to kill. Geez, it seemed like a long time of all things, didn't it? And still, time did fly whilst he was enjoying the moment he'd seized. A strange [i]carpe diem[/i] sensation every now and then was more than welcomed into his system. And another growl of Oscar's stomach symbolised that something should be done about his appetite. It wasn't reaching a boiling point of malnutrition or anything, only the small temptation to tuck into a brownie or two whilst sipping on an ice-cold soft drink kept his mind at full attention. Thus, he stood up and turned, realising that the [i]cafe[/i] was very nearby. It was strange. He must have come to this music shop about four times a week and yet he still hadn't been to this beverage provider more than twice. With his priorities having been set on reviving his career during his rehabilitation stage, he needn't to worry as much on what was important and should lay back on the good life he'd started to rebuild. His social circle was limited to Eloise, occasionally Richard and Julian, all of which were mostly for work-based issues if not including his family correspondence to his twin. It saddened him to think that the only people in his life had been the same ones for a while. Where were these new friends he desired, or more than friends if he were to get as lucky as he could be? If his music couldn't attract anyone then his almost flaccid self-view on his appearance and probable dislike everyone had to his personality may fail on that too. A strong sigh succumbed him once more. Oscar had that feeling of loneliness once more. Maybe he should order some more fluoxetine..?

	With his mind at unease, Oscar quickly made his way towards the random cafe he'd never been to and got a small drink he wanted. There, he took his food and returned back to the outside where he was playing earlier. With a drink in his hand and a loneliness settling in once more, thoughts of the possibilities he could have if he were to gain that interest from others settled in.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"Fuck me...Maybe I should have taken those extra social classes after-all. Eloise would laugh at the irony of my confidence."[/b][/color] [color=Gray]But a strange, almost immeasurably awful incident cut his mind away from its muse. An itch or two in his place of discomfort was suddenly spiking up. He needed to tend to it, but he couldn't just leave his baggage unattended on the floor where it was. What a sorrowful consequence to occur...

	But nearby, very nearby, he noticed a rather fair blonde-haired woman. In her holster, which gave him a little nerve at the same time, was a small handheld firearm tightly encased into her custody. He didn't have much time and was getting rather desperate, quietly placing the drum machine beside her.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"H-hey! Can I just ask for a quick favour, sorry. I don't want to intrude or anything, I just need to sort something out with my...thing...Can you just make sure no one picks this up or walks off with it? I won't be able to run after them if so?"[/b][/color] [color=Gray]And in doing so, he sat himself down against the nearest seating, unlatching a few straps beneath his trousers before suddenly revealing the detachable leg in place. And in silence, hoping someone would say something, he awkwardly began to fasten and enlighten certain areas of its metallic frame.[/color]
[sub][@Pilatus][@Zaxter996][/sub]