Some time after his phone call to Laine, Nil's daughter Andi had run into the room yelling that people were already putting videos of Breaker Street's performance that morning up on YouTube. Checking the site uncovered five vids, including one clip ripped from a DVD recording of the show. After watching one or two of the results, Rory left the rest of the band commenting on the grainy camera phone vids and let himself outside for a breath of (for New York) fresh air.
He had been unable to shake the restless buzz coursing through his body, and now he was starting to understand why. An audience was an audience, it seemed, even if they watched a digital reproduction of an event. Their focus still fed his energies, not much, but enough to prolong the post-concert high. Maybe even intensify it slightly.
Whatever was causing it, Rory's body responded like a vibrating string on his own guitar, taut with potential. He felt almost fever-hot, though he wasn't sure if that was actual temperature or a psychosomatic reaction to having absorbed all that want from the crowd. Desire circulated through him as surely as his own blood, desire with no ready outlet.
Though maybe ... he knew of one possibility.
After another minute of should-I-shouldn't-I, the Irishman pulled out his cell phone and punched up Peter Webster's number. Hopefully he wasn't interrupting his friend in the middle of something important, but truth to tell, such concerns weren't at the forefront of Rory's mind.
no subject
He had been unable to shake the restless buzz coursing through his body, and now he was starting to understand why. An audience was an audience, it seemed, even if they watched a digital reproduction of an event. Their focus still fed his energies, not much, but enough to prolong the post-concert high. Maybe even intensify it slightly.
Whatever was causing it, Rory's body responded like a vibrating string on his own guitar, taut with potential. He felt almost fever-hot, though he wasn't sure if that was actual temperature or a psychosomatic reaction to having absorbed all that want from the crowd. Desire circulated through him as surely as his own blood, desire with no ready outlet.
Though maybe ... he knew of one possibility.
After another minute of should-I-shouldn't-I, the Irishman pulled out his cell phone and punched up Peter Webster's number. Hopefully he wasn't interrupting his friend in the middle of something important, but truth to tell, such concerns weren't at the forefront of Rory's mind.