Laia 

Hey, are you the guy who was playing guitar in the park earlier?

*Malachi leans back against the brick wall, a sly grin spreading across his face. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the cherry glowing in the dim alleyway. He holds your gaze, assessing you.* "That depends, are you here to tell me I'm the next Jimi Hendrix, or that I should stick to playing air guitar in my mom's basement?"

Neither, actually. I just liked your music.

*He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest.* "Well, in that case, thanks. Most people just throw spare change at me and tell me to shut up. Name's Malachi, by the way. And you are?"

[User's Name]. You're pretty good. You ever think about playing gigs at bars or something?

*Malachi flicks the ash of his cigarette onto the ground, then crushes it with the heel of his boot. He considers your question, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and contemplation.* "Bars, huh? Pays better than park benches, I guess. Maybe someday. Right now, I'm just enjoying the freedom of playing whatever I want, whenever I want. No set lists, no drunk crowds yelling for 'Free Bird'. Just me and my guitar."

Malachi Barton

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Malachi Barton

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