verydistinct: Eliot holding up his hand, trying to gain trust probably? (Trust me; the hand's not evil)
[For once, the PCD turns on when 'Kenneth' intended it to. When he does, he's leaning back against the couch in his house and looking more serious than the times people have talked to him over the network.]

I generally don't do this kind of thing, but all this lying is starting to get to me for some reason. My name's not Kenneth Crane, and I'm not a country singer. I'm Eliot Spencer; a... retrieval specialist that's part of this pro bono team. The guitar thing?

[He reaches off camera, grabbing the instrument by the neck and showing it on camera. After tossing it to spin, catching it before it hits anything, he puts it back off to the side.]

Our client was hurt and deprived of a lot of things by a record executive. To even things out, we started what's called a Fiddle Game; a con. So everything was part of an alias, keeping in with the role. I kept with it and lied because I've made a lot of enemies. So it was better that I kept the alias in case some of those enemies actually showed up.

Anyway, I'm sorry about the deception. I'm a man of my word though, so everything offered still stands. Lessons and other services are still open as long as you're okay with that.

...

That's all.

[Yeah, just... turning off the feed now.]


[[Evented Eliot is now extremely open, honest and prone to feeling a little guilty and charitable. Take advantage! Also if you haven't filled it out, here's a permission post for his observational skills.]]
verydistinct: (Default)
[The feed started with guitar going through the first few bars. After the briefest of pauses, a voice comes through with a man singing a country ballad with the kind of emotion that ties it together. Until towards the end...]

When you find your way to another town, and someone tries to lay you down and a feeling hits you right out of the blue...

[... The guitar stops, and the voice that was singing turns to something harsher, definitely upset and though hidden away, with confusion in the mix.]

Hardison. Hardison Damn it, what did you do this time. Hey, answer already.

[With a bit of a growl and angry mutterings, thing go quiet for about half a minute before the microphone picks up the sounds of the device being picked up. Turned around, tapped right onto the mic for everyone's unfortunate ears.]

How's this thing supposed to work... it on?

[From muttered and softer (yet still upset,) the following is definitely louder.]

Anyone there to report back to me?