![]() ![]() He's interested in the topic, is the thing - genuinely animated, face bright and hands moving the way they do when he talks about cryptids or helping teenagers start clubs for anodic dance music. Instead, you lean back in your seat in the Kineema, push your glasses up on your nose a little, and consider Harry. Harry's still talking, about the importance of rigorous critique and peer review and something about capitalism's impact on cultural relevance, but you've mostly stopped listening. Surely this would be the time to do so, if that had been his intention. ![]() doesn't actually seem to be teasing you, at the moment. Your first thought is that he must have listened to it for ammunition to tease you with, except that he. Curious enough to listen to it long enough to hear half of Draconian Lobotomy's albums - or even enough to recognize the band name? You wonder. Curious enough to listen to the station for fifteen minutes, sure. But even his claim of curiosity rings a little false. "I was curious," Harry says, which you believe, and then, voice growing lofty, "and it is my duty, as an artist - an Art Cop, you might say - to thoroughly investigate the artistic credentials of the talent I discover in the world around me," which you absolutely don't. "Or rather, since when do you listen to Speedfreaks FM? It's not exactly disco." You've worked with Harry for two weeks as his formal partner, now, and that's been more than enough time to get a fairly extensive grasp on his music preferences. You're not lacking a certain amount of morbid curiousity about where this statement on hard core artistry is going, but you have another, more pressing question: "Since when do you listen to Draconian Lobotomy?" But no, you realize, that's not the real question. Surely it would be hypocritical for Andre, Noid, Egg Head, and Acele to deny this obvious specimen of hard core artistry when presented with it? In fact -" "Yes, but," Harry says, pointing a finger at you, "having listened to half of their albums by now, I can confidently state that Draconian Lobotomy is, in fact, hard core. "It's not anodic dance music, and seeing as their club is a club for anodic dance music, I would have to say no," you tell him. Unlike most of Harry's tangents, this is one that's actually easy for you to follow: Draconian Lobotomy is a favorite band on Speedfreaks FM. Hey, Kim, do you think Andre and the others would play Draconian Lobotomy at the club if I brought them a tape?" ![]() His grin turns distinctly rueful and he says, "Okay, okay. It always works on Harry, which you can't even pretend to yourself you don't find gratifying. Instead, you turn to look at him, hold his gaze for 2 seconds, and then slowly raise an eyebrow. Logic to shut Harry down is, therefore, out. It is physically impossible to fall asleep when DJ Mesh is shouting "YOU'RE LISTENING TO S-S-S-S-SPEEDFREAKS FM" at top volume, which Harry knows you know perfectly well. He adds, "You don't think it would help us stay awake?" in a suspiciously innocent tone. You're not sure you like it, that he can do that. Harry has an unsettlingly good instinct for exactly how far he can push you, dancing up to the line often but almost never actually stepping across it. Maybe because he knows that you have no intention of letting him press that button. In his lap, his fingers twitch, but he doesn't reach out towards it. Harry, predictably, says, "Why not?" His eyes stray to the saved station button on the dashboard. That's absolutely not happening, and you take a brief moment to battle your own knee-jerk irritation - more teasing about this, really? You'd thought you were done talking about this with him - before you say, "Detective, I'm not putting on Speedfreaks FM." He means Speedfreaks FM - that's what he wants you to put on. "That's not what you play to stay awake - is it?" "I didn't mean Sad FM!" Harry says, sounding wounded at the very idea that you would expect him to want his favorite station. Still, "I'm not putting on Sad FM," you tell him, because that's more likely to put you both to sleep than anything else. It would be understandable if he was getting bored. So far tonight you've listened to his thoughts on levitation and infra-materialist theory, why pygmies are an underrated race in Wirrâl, and what could be behind the locked door in the back of the bar down the street, and you're curious what other, future odd tangents he's likely to come up with.īut you're well aware that you are a much less interesting conversationalist than Harry is. Harry's presence is, in general, anathema to boredom or sleepiness. To keep awake."ĭespite the late hour, you're not actually having a problem with staying awake. You're two hours and twenty minutes into the stakeout, leaning back in your seat, tapping your fingers against the wheel of the Coupris Kineema, when Harry, in the passenger seat, says, "You can put on the radio, if you want. ![]()
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