Owner	Pose
Michael Hannigan	The halls of the Maxim have been extremely quiet since Thursday. A sizable reason for that could be explained with a news story revoling around the pyramids of Giza around that time. Most of the students and chaperones associated with the trip have gone home early. Mike was not one of them. He had other obligations to attend to in the area which led to him turning down the early trip back. But after Friday there was nothing else left to keep him here for much longer. The musician's attire was not his usual fare. The Egyptian heat limited his clothing options to where he only had one dark colored shirt and that was worn to the concert last night. Today, it's back to light blue jeans and a light fabricked long sleeve white shirt. His hair is still a little damp from the shower he had recently taken. The decision to forgo the hair dryer a considered necessity at the moment. But it has caused for a few spots of the shirt to cling where it shouldn't. No matter. That should resolve itself in a little bit. The sunglasses and ballcap he plans to add on is resting atop his tour phone. Resting nearby is a bookbag. Open and awaiting the last of Mike's belongings. A little further away are two instrument cases of similar shape but varying sizes.
Tara Tsabedze	The unexpected and unpredictable happenings at the pyramids had sent most of the students and faculty home, but Tara had remained behind for two reasons. The first was to investigate the appearance of an Irish goddess in /her/ lands, the other was to be a quick way home for Michael and his instruments. The first reason was extremely personal, not one she'd mentioned because it was Bast who needed answers. The second... well she attended the concert, enjoyed the evening of music, then returned to the hotel to make herself ready to return home. Her attire was always perfect for the desert heat, and Egyptian inspired. Gauzy, flowing sleeveless summer dress in a soft cream colors, a hole cut in the back for her tail, tan leather sandals on her clawed feet and a satchel to carry her belongings in. Nothing else, she didn't need it. Making her way to Michael's room, she knocks lightly and waits. She didn't know for certain when he would be ready, and she had no intentions of rushing him.
Michael Hannigan	Hearing the knock and considering himself to be pretty decently dressed now, the musician steps out of the bathroom. Detouring over to the bed, Mike picks up the sunglasses, setting them onto his face and heads to the door. A pause is given as he confirms the person on the other side. Appeased, he reaches over to undo the chain and bolt of the door before swinging it open to grant the nurse entrance. Mike gives Tara a small smile. "Hey. I'm almost done packing. Come on in."
Tara Tsabedze	The moment the door opens, a smile appears on Tara's feline features. Stepping into the room at his bidding, she doesn't bother to look around, that is akin to invading privacy. "Take your time," she offers softly, the east African accent always present. "I was uncertain how long you would need, and do not seek to rush you." Pausing just inside the door, she closes it behind her as her tail does this swish flick move for attention. Tails have a mind of their own at times, this was one of them. "It was a very nice concert," she then says. "You are quite talented."
Michael Hannigan	To Tara's acceptance of the wait, Mike nods gently. "Thank you." He doesn't do anything with the hotel room door. Instead, he leaves Tara to make the decision of it's open/closed status and to where she chooses to sit or stand. Mike steps back to the bathroom, gathering together what's left of his toiletries. The compliment does not go unnoticed as he pauses long enough to look up, seemingly trying to look at Tara via the mirror's reflection through the open door. "Thank you. I had some really great teachers. I'm sure they'd be happy to know their time wasn't wasted working with me." He caps his toothbrush, dropping that in before retrieving a small sandwich baggie from inside. "Wade was the one who worked with me on string instruments." He adds, making mention of the owner of the studio that the school had formed a sort of partnership with.
Tara Tsabedze	For the most part, Tara remains just inside the door, maybe a couple steps more to be out of the way should the door whip open. That would be an interesting to have happen though, as she would round on whoever it was like they were a gazelle and she was, yeah you got it, a panther. "I never learned to play any instruments," she offers to the room while he's collecting things. "Seemed impossible with my hands the way they are. Stringed instruments would be a major issues, piano would need to be very sturdy keys, and well, that's really the only ones I thought of." Now she takes a moment to look around, since he's not right there. Curiosity killed the cat. "I did learn numerous forms of dance however, as you don't need to worry about clawing something to death no accident when dancing," she then offers with a soft chuckle. "At least not if the other dancers do not get too close."
Michael Hannigan	The hotel room looks like a typical hotel room. Based from the fact nothing is bolted down, this may be one of the nicer ones available. Unlike his accomodations in Italy, the room has two beds and a sleeper chair. Only one of the beds show signs of being slept in. The other bed has one of its pillows relocated to the center of the mattress, crumpled towards the center of it. There's also a glimpse of bottles in the trash can near the desk. But save for that and the bags waiting to be claimed. All that's lying out is the hat and the phone it is mostly covering. "Well I'm sure you have me beat in the dance department." Mike comments with a chuckle, "I mean, I'll learn enough footwork to add to the presentation but it's not enough on its own." He reaches over, grabbing the unopened bottles on display and tossing them into the bag. The bag gives off a prolonged zipping sound as his thumbs rub along the edge. "I learned drums first." He volunteers. "You let the sticks do the hitting for you on that one. But you do have to replace the heads once in awhile. They can only take a beating for so long." Mike closes the kit bag. He steps out of the bathroom, carrying both bags over to the bed. With a glance to the opening of the bookbag, he drops them in.
Tara Tsabedze	With a moment of time, Tara studies the bags and items he has that will be going with him. Not because she thinks there is too many, but so she can be certain of how large the portal she is going to use needs to be. "Drums are the primary instrument of my tribe," she offers up, humming a little as she moves a touch closer to the bags. She's not going through them, just getting sizes. "Those are played with their hands however, so I did not think of the kind with stick," she adds. "How many instruments do you play?" Even with moving closer, she doesn't look into the bathroom, that is very much an invasion of privacy. Moving the bags and instruments, as she promised him, would be easy and do no damage.
Michael Hannigan	"Oh geez." Mike lifts his fingers off of the bookbag to think about the answer for that. Or at least the order in which to go about answering it. "Rod helped me with Drums, percussion and piano. Wade got me off the ground with guitar and I had to learn violin for a TV series. I was doing vocals back with Silver Round and expanded on that over time. Went through a few coaches on that to get it to where I am now..." There's a considerable pause as he goes over the list mentioned, making sure he didn't miss one before he shrugs, "Strings, percussion, and vocal in general." He zips up the bag, "Mind you, I'm older than I look. And there's always room for me to get better with them." Bag secured, he moves over to the instrument bags, tugging out straps to attach to hooks set into the sides. "We do keep some cajones around. Sometimes a session calls for them."
Tara Tsabedze	A slight cant of her head, the right ear twitching and a broad smile spreads across Tara's face. "Appearances are deceiving for the both of us then," she offers, then winks at him. "I am older than I appear as well." "It is impressive how many instruments you play, I would be jealous but I am certain there are things that I can do, that you can not. Perhaps I will attempt to learn the piano." She continues to watch him, then steps a touch closer as she offers, "Is there anything I can help carry for you?"
Michael Hannigan	Mike nods, looking to the instruments, "You're right there. I didn't get to go to college. I don't have any degrees beyond the GED. So, as far as what I'm good at that makes me an income, well- entertaining others is it." He walks over to the side of the bed where the hat is and takes it, revealing the broken smartphone underneath. Pale eyes glance down through the sunglasses to the phone for a moment with a frown as Mike sets the hat on his head. "You probably have me beat when it comes to magic at the VERY least." He reaches for his phone.
Tara Tsabedze	Taking note of the broken phone, Tara lifts a single brow as her tail flicks once again. Technology was difficult for her to repair, but some minor things she could do. "May I see your phone a moment?" she asks softly, extending a clawed hand. "I may be able to repair it for you, but I make no promises. I most certainly cannot to any further damage to it." Whether he offers the phone or not, she continues. "All of my schooling has been with the tribe, no GED or degrees, but I have since taken several on line courses to get official accreditation for things. I work that Happy Harbor as a nurse, but really it is my ability to heal that has me in the position."
Michael Hannigan	The offer gets a blink in response before Mike glances to the phone. Considering how smashed up the screen is he gives a mild nod before reaching over to the extended hand. The device is set gently upon the palm. "See? You got me beat at magic."
Tara Tsabedze	The screen was an easy fix really, forming glass back together, so that much Tara could offer. Along with a few other minor repairs that in the long run meant nothing, but the white glow of her hand as she runs it over the phone is the most obvious part of it all. "I am afraid I cannot make it work again," she finally says before offering it back. "But I could repair some of the damage. Technology is still a mystery to me, something I am working to learn, after all even a cell phone is merely components put together to perform in a certain way. Eventually, I will better understand." "Did you drop it?" She then asks, curiosity getting the better of her. "Will it cost you much to replace it?"
Michael Hannigan	Mike takes the phone back, flipping the phone over in his hand to look to it. "It still looks better than it did." Mike allows. "I wouldn't have been able to do that." Lips thin to a set line as the followup questions are asked. "Yes." He eventually answers, sliding the broken phone into his pocket, "Sort of." He frowns "It was my fault. I'm ok with paying for it. Just-" His head tilts up, giving a small smile once more. "Thank you for offering to try. You didn't have to." Items acquired from this side of the bed, he moves back over to the instrument cases, sliding the larger case on like a backpack. The smaller case is lifted up and slung on his shoulder while  Mike steps over to collect the bookbag. "Alright. I think that's it."
Tara Tsabedze	It was like watching a dancer prepare for a performance, the way Mike picked up everything himself and found a place on his body to put it. Tara actually blinked a few times, impressed with how easy he made it look to carry that many things at once. "It is my duty to offer aid when ever and where ever I can," she offers with a soft smile. "Even if it is something as simple as a broken cell phone. I am sorry I could not fix it however." Again she looks him over, "Are you certain I cannot carry something for you?" She asks again, just amazed at his skill. "You seem to have it, impressively so, but you look... weighed down." She wasn't going to say in more ways than one, but she did think it.
Michael Hannigan	The bookbag is soon relegated to the other shoulder, essentially closing off three fourths of the way one may approach him. But the front side, which is facing Tara still gives an unblocked glance to the musician inside the luggage formed shell. Mike shakes his head. "If it was a drum kit I'd might take you up on that but. This is a light load. I can handle it. Besides, you're carrying us across the ocean in a way. That's a task in itself."
Tara Tsabedze	Tara wasn't entirely certain on that, going across the ocean was easy enough, but since he insisted. She looked him over one more time, noting he has created a shell with his body as the creamy center, and this makes her grin. "I will have to touch you," she warns, stepping closer to him. Giving him a moment with that information, she lays her hand on his chest, since that is the part she can actually reach. A silvery white glow wraps around her body almost immediately when she touches him, then spreads from her to him, enveloping them both. Somewhere in that moment of time of blinding light, he could swear he saw tribal huts, numerous African people moving about in the sunlight, but it moved by so quickly, perhaps it was a figment of his imagination? When the light fades away, only a minute has passed, but they are standing in his apartment's living room. She had been there once before, knew the location well enough that she could appear there. The very moment the light fades completely, she steps back, taking her hand off his chest. "Welcome home."
Michael Hannigan	The warning gets a nod. It seemed fair enough, he has to touch people too in order to phantasm them. "Okay." Mike agrees. Considering the blinding light, it turns out to be fortunate that Mike had chosen to put on the sunglasses before letting Tara in. The tint of the lens helped greatly to prevent the musician from wincing in reaction. The flash of the huts and people does get a blink but when he finds himself in the condo, he leaves the question regarding that be. "Thank you." Mike responds, taking a step back to drop his bookbag to the floor in an ungraceful manner. The violin case and the guitar case are treated much more gently as they're set under his loft bed with the rest of the instrument collection. "It's good to be home."