Originally Posted by Mr. Your Name Is Not Getting Any Easier, Buddy"Everything needs a price. Nothing is free."
He pondered for a few moments, tapping his chin. Then he pointed at Cinder. "You sing. Come on over here for a second; we gotta talk." He jerked a thumb at a far corner of the ceiling-cave, maybe fifteen feet away from the main gathering.
Once there, an impromptu two-person football huddle was inaugurated. Underwood's hand was on Cinder's shoulder, in a way that was steadying but not unmistakably flirtatious. He spoke in a low voice.
"Listen. I heard you at the campfire last night. You've got pipes, kid. And -- this is me talking as a professional here, not as a guy who wants to see you have fun once in your life -- I'd be a derelict in my guide-ly duties if I didn't let you use them. I'd sit up nights, guilty. Nobody wants that. Here's what I've got in mind."
He tapped his breast pocket. "Sparky. Be a trooper and play track 499 for Miss Pleasant, will you? Headphones, please."
The phone scrambled out, detached a small pair of earbuds from…somewhere on his person, and swung them eagerly at the werewolf, beeping demonstratively. Underwood nodded at Cinder. "This is Frank and Ella, but you can get the idea. I take the low part, you take the high, Sparky does the orchestra. You've gotta give this one a lot of play, now, or it just falls flat. Have to throw your back into it."
Presuming that Cinder listened to the song, Underwood waited politely for her to finish, then raised an eyebrow. "What do you say? Sometimes, all it takes for things to come out right is a good musical number…"