[Kai Triliante]

       It's a glistening day, glittering and slick with sweat that freezes to the skin with every exhaled breath. The city labors under the beating heat as the sun claws its way down the city streets, asphalt bleeding beneath iron-hot knives that are only alleviated by icy winds grown in the guts of the city maze.
       It's almost perfect.
       Kai's fever hot, fingers twitching and dancing over strings that sing, that hum, that harmonize with his voice that bounces off the concrete walls. He's found a hole in the city skin; the courtyard is quiet and breathes softly. It echoes his lilting words, the wind curling and carrying the rhythm he makes up to the furthest reaches of the office building he's found himself next to.
       His heart is a drum. The beat rattles his bones, shakes down his fingers, shivers in his spine. He's sick with song- the only cure is to sing. He has to. Because he can feel the edge just under his feet, the drop that threatens to swallow him when his feet slip off the razor thin tightrope that he oh-so delicately walks today.
       What will happen if he stops? He doesn't want to know. Doesn't want to think about what he might do- who he might be- what will bubble up and out of him if he stops. The song will smother him first. It has to. How long has it been? His voice is starting to scratch and break- each fissure making him wince pushing him off balance until he's wobbling at the edge of the well with shattered sympathy for every jagged cut into the fragmented lyrics.
       The song hears Ferris Felwinter before he does. It dies in his mouth, lays heavy in his lungs, squeezing his stomach and ribs. Kai lets go of the breath he was sacrificing at the altar; brown eyes flicker with flecks of gold, fixing on the warm body that interrupts his performance.
       "Hi," Kai says. "Did you come to kick me out or did you come to watch?" A grin spreads on his face. It's something like charm, something like bravado, something like nerves and dread like he's been caught holding a corpse. "I don't mind an audience or a rough hand either way." There's a laugh buried in his words, electric and sparking with buried fear. "So what's it gonna be? Don't leave me in suspense."

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_{OOC: im sorry hes just like this. i dont think the day is all that terrible, its probably really nice, kais just such a Weirdo}

[Ferris Felwinter]

Street performers weren't anything to sing about in the city. It always seemed to Ferris that everyone and their mother could play the guitar here and if not, then they were musical prodigies in piano or singing or something else. Even the pulse of the city was music. Maybe that was why he'd stuck around when Murphy first moved here, despite being such an outsider. It had encouraged him to pursue his dreams of performing himself. Even with the steep competition to perform in bars and small venues, he'd had a few regular jobs. But that was ages ago now. Before his kids. Before his break down. He still played, but not in public. He was much too busy.

Hearing music from the office building made him both ache for that passion and release again, but it also made him curious. This wasn't some public park. Someone couldn't just walk in off the street and start laying it out there, be it for tips or just to hear themselves.

The detective was on his way out for the evening and detoured down the back stairwell to come out at the partial courtyard. He was surprised to see it empty, but for the man and his guitar. He was curious what he was singing about, but also why security hadn't stopped him. Especially since security was very tight around here. Probably he'd walked in on the shift change? There would be someone around soon.

He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets, soaking in the warmth of the day while the stranger made out like this was his magnum opus, sweat beaded on his forehead, purple hair bright in the sunlight.

And then those lovely brown eyes fixed on Ferris and the courtyard grew silent but for the faint sound of the wind through the stone and metal. The detective raised an eyebrow at the accusatory question. The man's smile seemed to indicate he's been thrown out of places before, though he's no less nervous about it. He opened his mouth to answer and then the man continued to hound him for an answer. It wasn't his job to throw the man out, but he didn't exactly like being accused before he made a move. Ferris returned his stare with an impassable one of his own and folded his arms where he leaned against the wall. Maybe he would leave him in suspense.

But that seemed unnecessarily harsh. "You normally so demanding of people when you're trespassing?" he asked, voice quiet.