Oh, god, no, I'm more into Stephen Sondheim, and Andrew Lloyd Webber... especially Andrew Lloyd Webber. And Claude-Michel Schönberg and, and, actually, I'm hit or miss on a lot of the more modern showtune writers but some of them are really great.
There's nothing wrong with musical theater if you're a fifty year old woman with two kids and a husband who doesn't love you. You're...what, early forties at the most? You're still young enough to have better taste.
No. Is that-- is that a real song? I've never heard of it. Other than showtunes I actually mostly listen to eighties and nineties stuff, you know, nostalgia stuff, but like, um, light rock? Pop rock? Oh, and Nat made me put on the Pixies once; they were okay. Kind of dark.
[ Dorian shakes his head, slightly endeared. He stubs his cigarette out on an ashtray before grabbing his (mostly drunk) margarita. He gestures for Misty to follow him as, keys in hand, he walks over to his bedroom. He unlocks his door before gesturing for her to follow.
Dorian's bedroom is a magpie nest. The walls, joints, and floor are all Victorian. But the bed is modern, some of the books are modern, and there's electricity and outlets throughout the room. And, tucked away at the bottom of a bookshelf, is a record player and some records. ]
Sit down on the bed or a chair, [ Dorian explains. ] I'll get things started.
I'm also a horrible hoarder and a terrible magpie so that's a factor as well. [ He sets his glass down on the floor before Dorian starts to rummage through a box of singles. Once he finds what he's looking for, he lets out a small little 'ha!' of happiness before he starts to play the single. And soon, the sound of Adam and the Ants starts to float through Dorian's room. ]
[Pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged on her bed (though she kicks off her Crocs first and goes in just her socks; she's not an animal), Misty drops her chin into her hand, listening to the song with a slight frown on her face. She waits until it's done to say:]
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[She exclaims, with enthusiasm.]
That's it, that's the one I was thinking of!
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Dennis Kelly. Dennis Kelly's good.
[Another sip of her drink.]
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You've got the same taste in music as a housewife.
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"Antmusic" is the eighties! Christ, you're hopeless. Bring your margarita, I'm going to actually introduce you to some good music.
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[She slides off her stool, testing out one wobbly step.]
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[And she follows, wobbly and happily.]
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Dorian's bedroom is a magpie nest. The walls, joints, and floor are all Victorian. But the bed is modern, some of the books are modern, and there's electricity and outlets throughout the room. And, tucked away at the bottom of a bookshelf, is a record player and some records. ]
Sit down on the bed or a chair, [ Dorian explains. ] I'll get things started.
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You have eclectic tastes! I guess that comes with the... immortal thing.
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There we go. Now that's classic music.
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It's okay...
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[ It is phenomenal, it's not just okay! Dorian looks briefly affronted before he sighs. ]
I don't know why I even bother. You probably think the Phantom of the Opera is the height of romantic literature.
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You know a lot of song names for someone who hates this stuff so much, Dorian.
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