Inés Dubois was a dream come true, and possibly one of the very few women that Léon lusted for creatively; the way in which she sang enough to drive his heart into a frenzy and remind him of how truly gifted someone needed to be to compose such beautiful music. He could not help but thank his lucky stars for the fact that he was out of school and could indeed travel to London to see the show. He had never been to the city before and though his English was intermediate at best, as soon as he found out that she would be headlining a show at a new club, he knew he had to try his best to be there, no matter what.
With the help of an older friend’s acquaintance who agreed to guide him in the right direction, he was able to find the club without a problem, slipping in under the guise of being with a group of boisterous woman, he assumed in their late twenties but one could never be too sure, that had engaged him in conversation, complementing him on his looks and the French accent so obvious when he spoke. Had Léon not been so preoccupied with getting a good seat for the performance, he might have ventured towards their table to figure out just how serious they were when they had said he was “attractiveâ€.
But there was no time for that, he was here on business, intent on finding the opportunity to speak to the fabulous woman himself if the occasion allowed for it. Finding a booth near the front of the stage but still quiet enough to keep him undisturbed, he tapped his fingers impatiently against the table, eyeing the equipment that the band was setting up on stage as he wondered just what sort of piano that was and how it was able to produce such a quality sound. In comparison to the crowd, he felt a little young and out of place but he figured that was simply due to his taste in music.
He loved the contemporary but could not help but to feel drawn to the music that appealed to his older acquaintances. There was something about the rhythm, the lyrics, everything that came together so much better than it did with the sort of kids his age. It was why he enjoyed attending these sorts of things alone, he had a reputation to upkeep and his taste in music or his seriousness with which he viewed it would probably not score him any points with the girls he often pursued.
He was talked away from his thoughts when a young woman came to the table to ask about what he wanted to drink. He had not even thought to look once at the menu but figured he ought to buy a drink or two as part of the “sitting†fee. Léon smiled in her direction, admiring how pretty she was and suddenly feeling a little distracted from what he had come here to do, “Oh yes, hello to you too,†he stated, feeling a little awkward speaking in English when it wasn’t his native language, “I do not know what is good, maybe you can…recommend?†he asked, glancing down at the menu and pushing it towards her in case she needed to look at it.
As soon as she mentioned the headliner, his interested peaked. “Ah yes, Miss Dubois, I love her work, most excellent artist in all of France, you’ll never hear any jazz singer like her,†he guaranteed. “I’m Léon by the way, you are—very pretty, what is your name?†he added. He knew how to put a few decent sentences together, at least it would be fun to have someone to chat with in between sets.