"Great, now she's gonna make me dance with her," Benjamin grumbled with a smile.

"I can always ask Hugh if he would like to dance instead!" Grace said. Benjamin leaned back against the bar.

"He's too busy cleanin' glasses and bein' practical-like."

"Well, then, looks like you're stuck," she said, sliding her little hands into his and giving him a bit of a pull. It took a moment--there was no question that he intended to yield, but meant to take his sweet time--but they were soon on their feet, doing a decently appropriate job of coordinating feet to the rhythm provided by the curious sounds of a violin, kazoo, and piano.

Cecile sat a few tables from where Grace was cajoling Benjamin up on his feet. She'd begun playing with a ringlet of her hair during Harry's performance earlier, twisting it on her finger and pulling it out of the shape she'd spent so much time creating. At least it gave her hands something to do.

"Miz Babbit? May I have the honor?" Pat looked so hopeful as he asked her to dance, Cecile didn't have the heart to say no. (But what a mustache the man had! Bristly as a scrub brush and almost as big.)

The newcomer nodded to them as Cecile laid her hand in Pat's, and Cecile was ready to swear he threw in an extra flourish as they joined the dance.

Harry deflated like a squished air mattress when Pat Balcom asked Cecile to dance. Thanks to his instrument of choice, he sounded a bit like a squished air mattress, too. He quickly shrugged an apology to his fellow musicians and finished the set well, if not with a bit less enthusiasm.

"Seems my throat's a bit dry," Harried Harry said after the listeners finished applauding. "I think I'll grab a quick drink, if ya don't mind."

"Come on, kid," Benjamin said, slapping Anthony on the back. "Don't think he's used to having any competition in town, and it plum wore him out. Let me buy you a drink, and you can tell us all about yourself while the maestro catches his breath."

"I'm Faye Brixton. Nice to meet you." Under the circumstances, that felt like a lie, but she also wanted to try to reassure the young man. Reassured that they were both all right, she turned back to the rest of the group and started trying to do a mental count of who all was there. She saw Molly, both Baxters, Miss Nordin... no red-haired man with the violin, though, and no Dr. Milner. But in hindsight, she couldn't remember who all had been there at the exact moment of the flash of light.

"Is everyone here that was at the party?"

Molly cast a glance around.

"It looks like that's everyone, Faye, except possibly Dr Milner. But he wasn't in the room when whatever happened, happened. Do you have any idea of what's going on? All I know, is that I had nothing to do with it, this time."

"Anthony went into that place there," she continued, pointing to the tavern. "You can hear the music more clearly now, and his violin, too."

"I d-don't know. I came i-in late w-with my p-parents and d-didn't really l-look around." Zake wasn't sure if the question was for him or someone else, but he didn't want there to be an awkward silence.

“Name’s Benjamin Monroe, this here is Grace Tzu,” Benjamin said amicably, guiding Anthony to a barstool between them. He waved his fingers in the air, and Hugh nodded.

“Pleasure,” Grace said, accepting a beer from Hugh. The bartender placed another in front of Benjamin, and a third before Anthony.

“So what brings you to Original?”

Anthony set his violin back in its case and fastened the lid--all jokes about insurance aside, he had made the mistake of trying to pick it up before it was latched in the past and didn't want to repeat the experience.

"Research," he told Benjamin. "I'm working on a paper on immigrant heritage and how traditional songs are adapted into new circumstances. I'd never even considered available instruments as a factor until I met Harry!"

Picking up the glass, Anthony took a drink, trying to decide if it tasted anything like what he'd imagined a drink in an old frontier town should be. It might take some getting used to, he thought, but it wasn't bad. He took another. "It could change the entire paper, actually. You have a piano--an instrument that's difficult to transport, but which can provide an entire range of sound and percussion--and a kazoo which is the ultimate in portable music. But they're both easy enough instruments to learn, unlike, say, the bagpipes. Is this the extent of your musical talent in town, or does everyone play?"

Harry had knocked back his drink like it was nothing, so Anthony went for a third sip. "Oh! And thank you for inviting me to play with you. Such an honor!"

Benjamin and Grace exchanged a look as Anthony explained his research, and Grace shrugged. They listened intently, and both knocked back their drinks while pondering his question.

"Depends," Grace said slyly. "What do you call music?"

"If you call shootin' cowbells music, a good handful of us do," Benjamin chuckled. "But past that, most of us rather listen to somebody else play. Our little Bernadette, though, she's taken a liking to playing some little guitar that got left at the station a while back. What did Harry call it, Grace?"

"Mandolin," she said. "Harry's been teachin' her. Says his fingers are too big for it. Bit surprising, though, since he manages to get his fingers into most pies around here."

"I resent that," Harry said indignantly. "I am quite respectful of folks' pies."

"To be sure ya are, 'long as they're insured."

"I do appreciate another musician in town," Harry said, ignoring Grace's last jab. "It's good to have some fresh ears, especially ones that aren't tone deaf."

"I can't say I've ever shot a cowbell," said Anthony. "Does that happen often around here, or only on special occasions?"

"Well, I'd more say it's our resident shooting expert's preferred method of teachin' long range accuracy," Benjamin said with a twinkle in his eyes. "But I've heard a few good renditions of Jingle Bells done that way, too."

"Any way I could convince the expert to give me a demonstration?" asked Anthony. "It sounds...unique!"

Benjamin looked over Anthony at Grace.

"What do you think, darlin'?" he asked.

"It's dark and I've had two beers. What could possibly go wrong?" she chuckled. "Sure, sounds shiny. Let's do it."

"Hugh, you still got that rifle behind the bar, or do I need to trot home to pick one up?" Benjamin asked.

Hugh gave him the evil eye.

"Aw, come now, don't be a poor sport, she's in a good mood."

"It's dark out," Hugh said shortly. "Nothin' good comes from traipsin' around in the dark."

"Can't hunt coons unless you're out after dark."

Hugh considered.

"Yeah, guess that is a night time activity," he grumbled. "Fine, take the rifle, but yer buyin' me a new one if you muss it up."

"Please, it's a baby. I always handle babies with love and care," Grace said, turning to Anthony. "Now, this baby isn't as nice as my baby, so it won't be quite the show, but she'll do. Gonna finish that drink?"

In response to Grace's question, Anthony tossed back the rest of his glass. The grand gesture was wasted, however, since instead of being able to bridge directly into 'lead on' he coughed and spluttered as the drink burned on the way down.

"'M fine," he gasped, waving off any offers of assistance. "Just... got too excited."

"Harry, you sure you aren't missin' a little brother?" Benjamin said, giving Anthony a good natured slap on the back. "Come on, y'all, let's go see some mighty fine shootin'."

Most everyone made their way to the door, joking and laughing. Even Hugh, who was loathe to come out from behind his bar, joined the merry makers, a rag in one hand and a glass in need of drying in the other. Petite Cecile and Grace chattered with each other, Grace gently petting the rifle. Harry hit a few merry notes on his kazoo, and Benjamin just looked pleased as punch that someone else was going to witness the wonder of a tiny Asian woman with a long rifle. Even Pat, handlebar mustache in tow, was tolerated by the merrymakers, other disputes set aside for daylight hours.

The women were the first out the door, but it took them a moment to notice the newcomers. When they did, they both ground to a halt. Cecile let out a small squeak. Their sudden stop created an appropriate domino effect that left poor Harry at the back, unable to see past Benjamin and Hugh's broad shoulders. The group immediately fell silent.

"Son," Benjamin said lowly, "do you need to tell us something?"