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"This is ma cher amie," said Franz, which really did not say a damn thing when he came down to it. He took Howl's hand bodily and held it out to Janice's before Howl could chivalrously, automatically do the same, apparently overly eager for his roomie to say hi before his roomie could do the thing naturally. This was unfair, as Howl had beautiful manners.

"Howl," he was saying (an odd name for a girl?), "this is Janice Fitzpatrick, also known as Comrade Fitzpatrick, also known as The Proletariat when we sort out our codenames, the Emma Goldman of my existence. Janice, this is Howl. We live together in sin, when we don't live together in harmony. Mainly we do the harmony, I swear to God. Janice, Howl. Howl, Janice."

(Franz was overly eager at this point.)

"God, that was incredible," he was saying. "Holy s**t, it was like I was molested by jazz and hadn't realised this dubcon was full-con."

Dully, Janice reached out to shake the oddly-named Howl's hand, but when his voice reached her ears she brightened considerably - in fact, with her pointy-fingered iron grip still in place, she gave way to a bout of laughter, slowly shaking her head in a mirthful fashion. This lasted for an unusually long set of moments, and by the time she'd withdrawn her hand and collected herself enough to speak, her voice still bubbled with the occasional aftershock.

"Please forgive me," she was saying, "I thought... well, I saw you from the stage and stuck the wrong gender label on you-- and you'd think I'd be more open-minded, really, the irony just about killed me right there. It looks as though the joke's on me for once in my life." She tilted her head momentarily, grinning. "I wasn't expecting to meet a kindred spirit in gender confusion."

This person Franz had brought along was only his roommate, what a relief--

--and just like flipping a switch, her expression turned flat and stern again.

She shrugged, inertly, seeing no issue with the growing list of names she could be addressed as (Franz being the sole author of most items on said list). As far as she was concerned there wasn't going to be any harm from adding another to the pile. "As long as I can tell you're addressing me, it'll work just fine. Some people just call me Jan, or--"

The drummer, finished with his free cruller, sped past the group, saying "LATER, JAN-JAN!" with an energized wave and a wide grin.

"--that," she finished, returning the wave. "Anyway, I'm quite appreciative that you decided to stop by and have a listen, we need all the support we can get." Turning her attention to Franz's review, she replied, "It wasn't anything too exceptional. In all honesty, we have a great deal of room for improvement if we want to be as successful as we were last year."

Being the ever so polite listener he was, he easily adjusted to the laughter, the apologies, and the gushing from Franz. The only thing that seemed to hit a nerve slightly was the odd phrase his friend had last mentioned.

Societal n****e clamps? His eyebrow lofted slightly at such a strange concept. Leave it to Franz to come up with such a saying!

Politely entering the conversation, he first addressed the true female of the group. "To be quite honest, Miss Fitzpatrick, I also did not expect my dear friend's companion to be such a handsome specimen. I also fell victim to inappropriate gender labeling, and I do apologize."

He chuckled slightly and nodded in approval to Franz's gushing (though in a slightly delayed fashion). "It was quite an enjoyable performance, and it suits this atmosphere quite splendidly." Once more turning his attention to Janice, he asked "Is your practice here a weekly ritual, or was today just a break from monotony?"

"You're wrong about the flattery," he said. "Ethanol may be the low-caste fuel that we mock, but let's face it, it keeps the economy in sugar-producing ethanol states alive. When you mock ethanol, Janice, you mock... the economy... so go ahead."

Then he high-fived her. This was slightly baffling.

"Well, you'll see me here next week," he said, and there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he would, in fact, be there. Howl could have the sinking feeling that, in fact, every week, Franz would probably look at him with sad eyes if he even considered not supporting the Meadowview Jazz band, as though his absence for any reason would be letting down the side. "I think that skipping out of school for the purposes of jazz is pretty much the only reason to skip anything, how 1940s is that?"

He clapped Howl on the shoulder for no reason. Then he said, overly casual, so casual, SO UTTERLY CASUAL, "Comrade, you should let me buy you a coffee." And: "You should also autograph me. Timeless, ephemeral."

Howl had probably come to conclusions.

"You're more than welcome to show up to our future rehearsals, of course," Janice said, sounding honestly grateful that she had gained at least one or two new audience members on this evening. And then, in the continued vein of expressing her gratitude, she said something that no other sapient being on the face of this or any other planet would say; something that, if she possessed a conscience, it would be flying out of her skull and frantically trying to duct tape her mouth shut in order to stop her:

"I guess for that, I owe you a visit to one of your cheerleading practices sometime-- if it's possible to arrange, anyway."

Her fate was sealed.

Only Franz would offer to buy someone a coffee when they were already holding a coffee, and only Janice would consider saying yes to said offer - but Howl got to the offer first, appearing to assume that it had been directed at him. Which, in all honesty, was perfectly reasonable, considering that a sane person would note that Janice already had some of the thing that was being offered. She wondered if she'd been assuming too much, thinking that Franz had been directing that at her, then she wondered why she was wondering if she'd been assuming too much. It shouldn't have been a big deal. But it was... partially. Slightly. Faintly.

"An autograph," she parroted, flatly. Her voice was on a rollercoaster ride tonight.

This was the point in which most people would walk away, or at least look at Franz funny. However, at the precise moment in which someone else in her position would awkwardly reply um, are you sure, kid?, Janice had already produced a pen from somewhere after setting her clarinet case on the chair. Swiftly, deftly, she leaned over and-- firmly gripping Franz's side with her other hand to keep him still-- produced a quick but artful signature on his literal person. "I suppose it's my duty to look after my fans," she was saying, grinning playfully.

Something was increasingly wrong with these two.

Howl watched the rather unique display of attachment between the two curiously. To him, it would seem the eccentric attracted the eccentric. And based upon previous conversations, he had to wonder what Franz's previous relationships as well. During the whole display, all he did was bring his hand up to his mouth and watched quietly.

It was only when he was once more called upon that he entered back into the conversation. "Yes, I suppose the time has come for our fond farewells." Were he in the position to do so, he'd offer the lady a kiss to the hand to signify respect. Yet, it should have been his friend doing such, not himself, so he gave a slight bow of the head instead. "It has been a pleasure meeting your, Miss Fitzpatrick. I look forward to our future encounters." He smiled a beautiful smile to the strangely handsome girl.