Pietro couldn’t help but smile when her voice wavered slightly, as that tended to happen in the same moments he added little grace notes… and, at least according to his ear, the grace notes were enough to harmonize the near-misses. Pietro only played a note or two of the chorus, not noticing at first that she’d stopped singing, then strummed the strings once or twice before raising his hand to pull one of the speakers from his ears.
Dragging his teeth over his lower lip, he shot a look past her too the booth, his brow raising. He didn’t like the look on the producer’s face, didn’t like the way his lips were thinning, and Pietro’s mouth tugged down into a frown… but he had to remember he was here as a guest, and he was getting paid. He shot a look to Alison but remained silent.
“What?” She questioned bitterly, referring to the pointed look Pietro was giving her. She was the professional here, she (mostly) knew what she was doing. A short sigh escaped her lips as she turned the page of lyrics, and carefully took in what the producer was commenting on (which mostly was a bunch of ballcrap that Alison would probably blatantly ignore). She sneered lightly, feeling the slight urge to punch him in the face–but her career came over her pride, a fact that was hard to face but ultimately true.
She swiveled once more on the stool until she was vaguely facing in Pietro’s direction. “Want to just sing the rest of this and then blow this Popsicle stand?” She whispered harshly,trying to keep the conversation mostly private. “We could even dump the spare coffee on them on the way out.” She added quickly, her tone picking up as she finished her sentence.
