Tattoos and Modeling (Tarquin)

[~Caroline~]

Michael was expecting a room mate. He didn't really want one, but he was obliged by the school to share a room with another guy. Atleast it was a guy though. He wondered if the guy was going to be tidy, because he certainly wasn't. Thanks to his money he had managed to bargain quite a large room. To one side, lay he drum kit, and really all around the room, books were scattered along with papers. He was very messy, but he hardly cared to clear his mess up. It was an organized mess after all.

As, he lay on his bed, reading "The amber spyglass", he flicked the pages but his concentration was altered by a knocking of the door.

The room mate has arrived.

[scarlette]

Tarquin pushed open the door hesitantly, and poked his head round it into the room. The first thing he took in about it was the mess, it was strewn all over the floor, he wrinkled his nose in disgust, he wasn't exaclty a neat freak, but he didn't like mess, especially not to this extreme. Then he saw the drum kit and his dissappointment deepened, it was bad enough living in a pig sty like this without someone bashing away at an infernal thing like that, he wondered how he would be able to study with a racket like that going in on. Then his glance alighted on the familiar looking boy with the shaved head and piercing eyes he had met before, and he wondered if it possibly get anyworse. He doubted it, considering he was already sharing a cramped, untidy and soon to be noisy room in a boarding school with a boy whom he already knew to be a self proclaimed arsonist. Great.
"Oh...It's you," he said, forgetting the formalities and walking round the rubbish to his bed, dumping his trunk on the mattress and sitting down, bringing his legs up to his chest to be as far away from the littered floor as possible.

[~Caroline~]

Michael looked at Tarquin and realised he couldn't have been stuck with a worse person. Now, he'll have to spend the whole year sharing a room with him.
"Nice to see you too," he said in quite a tranquil and bold tone.
He turned and looked at he unpacked his stuff and realised how his feet was barely touching the ground. He groaned. He had been stuck with some sort of neat freak. Joy. He thus crouched to all fours and stared to pick up the pieces of paper, that he had left around carelessly. They were hardly disgusting but it seemed to disturb poor Tarquin to Otter.

[scarlette]

Tarquin figured he might as well make conversation while he was here. He caught sight of the book on Michael's bed.
"What are you reading?" he asked curiously, craning his neck to get a better look at the book.

[~Caroline~]

"The amber spyglass. I've nearly finsihed it," he said getting to his feet as he threw the pieces of paper in the bin before settling down on the bed once more. "So, m'lord, is that better?" he said, referring to the now not so messy room.

[scarlette]

Tarquin looked down grimly, aware that he wasn't making very good impression. And yet he didn't see why he should deny his nature just because Michael didn't like it. He didn't want to offend the boy on the first day of being room mates with him, so he opted for a passive answer.
"Yeah, fine, but you know you you don't have to clean up for me, you're allowed to be yourself or whatever," he replied bashfully.

[~Caroline~]

"But you'd of course hate it and start complaining and that wouldn't be in aby best interest," he pointed out in a soft quite icy tone as he threw the last of his rubbish in the bin.

[scarlette]

"Whatever, we have to learn how to co-exist peacefully somehow," Tarquin replied, lying back on his bed, his arms under his head, looking up at the ceiling.

[~Caroline~]

"Point," he mumbled before shruggin and turning to the drums. Picking up the drum sticks he turned to look at Tarquin. "You said you could sing? I can roughly play the electric guitar, but i'm better at the drums. Let me see," he asked raising an eyebrow.

[scarlette]

Tarquin winced, ready to have his ears blasted out by the sound of drums. He began to talk hurriedly, willing to do anything to forestall the moment when Michael would actually play the dratted instrument.
"Damn, did I really say that? What madness posessed me, I wonder? I can't sing all that well, I'm sure you could find some girl with a much better, more angelic voice to do it. How about I go find you one hey? I'm sure I could do it in a few minutes, girls flock to me like flies around dung...probably not the most flattering expression that, but you get the picture," he rambled, coming to a halt as he imagined himself as a large piece of dung, and a load of flies with girl's head flying around him. It was not a pretty sight.

[~Caroline~]

michael looked at him partly amused by this sudden denial and word-vomit. It all came out in the long train of rambling words, mumbles and murmers and half the time Michael was unable to catch them.
surpressing a chuckle, he turned to look at him, his eye brow raised as he leant over his drum kit.
"Yeah right. You're going to sing. you probably can sing better then me, that's for sure," he said, nodding at the microfone, in front of him.

[scarlette]

Tarquin raised an eyebrow, watching the microphone as if it was some sort of predator that was intent upon attacking him.
"Why do you even have a microphone?" He asked curiously.
He reached out for it and brought it up to his lips, speaking into it softly, he said" Testing, testing, one, two three." It was surprisingly loud, so much so, Tarq doubted Michael would be allowed to keep it here, he figured it would cause too much noise pollution.

[~Caroline~]

He shrugged and then went over to an electic guitar he had. It was crimson red, very eccentric really. He could play but not better then the drums, but he could pass as a good guitarist.
"It was Aiden's but yeah, he gave it to me," he said, calmly and then tuned it.
"Okay, what do you want to sing? I can just about play all the white stripes song and a couple of Muse and Franz Ferdinand," he said, looking at Tarquin. Finally he had it tuned and started play the cors for 'Fell in love with a girl'. It sounded pretty well and once he had it perfect he played it with more confidence.

[scarlette]

Tarquin began to sing, his voice was much lower, more gravelly and Brit-pop sounding than Jack White's, so when he sang, it was very different to the original, but it still sounded good in his opinion. He didn't know the White Stripes very well though, and he soon realised he didn't know the words and just "la la la,'d" along to the sound of the guitar instead. He felt himself blushing at the sound of his voice through the microphone, and he hoped the sound didn't travel too far, he didn't want the whole school to hear him making a fool of himself.

[~Caroline~]

Michael realised he knew nothing of this sound. He would have to teach him a few lyrics or too. Rolling his eyes, still playing, he looked around and saw another stand up microphone laying around. He went over to it and started kicking it into play, until it was parallel to Tarquin's. He slowed down his playing, so Tarquin could hear him. "You sound more Brit-pop! but Good!" he called at him, a ltitle michevous smile on his face. "Try and copy me. You'll get it soon enough." Switching on the 'on' button, he put the microphone to his lips and, played the tune again on his guitar. it didn't sound like the original, but when he started singing, it hardly helped. He had once been to Detroit and spent a couple of month there, but his American accent wasn't very good. It sounded roughly like Jack White's voice but lower. This was the only guy he could imitate. Tarquin would be better when coming to Muse and Franz Ferdinand. "Now, follow me, once it comes to the chorus," he called over the music.