The city was asleep somehow. A small Blanket of fog had fallen on the cobblestone streets, a still quiet in its company. Declan preferred it like this, dead, stony and cold. It was in complete contrast to what it usually was: vibrant, alive, beautiful. Now it was eerie, and much more fitting.
He was out early, and for good reason. He had to prepare. To write his set. A new city, a new song, he thought to himself, Makes it harder to track you that way . He wrote his words down and breathed magic into them softly, sitting on the cold and lonely bench, before pulling his guitar out of her case.
***

The street was now busier. It was an animal of a tourist road, packed with faces, voices; a river that steadily flowed into a mouth that turned into a square, the city promenade.
Declan surveyed the crowd, and decided the time was right.
He stood on the bench and strummed Amie. She resonated, and the air changed. The sweet, warm chord moved through the throng and tickled their hearts. Smiles broke out, some curious, some joyous, some surprised. As Declan played, a stream of goodwill seemed to emanate from him. The crowd was drawn to him, and they pressed up around the bench. He sang the words he had written only a few hours before, about love, and miracles, hope, friendship. The Intensity escalated.
A woman towards the front of the crowd started shouting in joy- her arthritis had left her. A man knelt down on one knee and proposed to the woman next to him, who exploded into an emotional agreement. Children played. All the while, Declan played and played, watching those around him.

It was a funny little tune; a tiny melody her mother taught her when she was very young. It only encompassed four little notes, sung for a few lines, but it alwayys reminded Lorelei of better times. It spoke of warm sunsets on Killieny beach, fresh mint ice-cream, and her father's musk cologne.

Lorelei needed that comfort now. Her cheek twinged again, the newly formed bruise not going away any time soon. The pain would replace that niggling doubt in the back of her mind, that soft-spoken warning that her life wasn't exactly what she had wanted. The brunette sighed, and pulled a small silver compact back out of her purse. With well-manicured fingers, she pulled the powder-puff out and and gently dabbed at the slight discoloration. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

While trying to fix the embarrassing mark, she was made aware of another tune floating in the air. It was light and airy, singing sweet promises and miracles. Curious, she stuffed the makeup back in her trench coat, and slowly made her way to the front of the large crowd. They were all so ecstatic, so happy, but Lorelei couldn't place why. All she was a musician in the front, playing that echoing song. He was handsome, yes, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Maybe people are just more sensitive today, she thought.

Declan watched as his charms did their work. He saw love light up in their eyes, hope, joy. In one instant, however, he noticed something. Something was different. He repeated a verse while he scanned the crowd. It took a moment before he saw her. She was beautiful, yes, she was looking at him, yes, but most of all she looked confused.
Not joyful. Not in love, not full of good will and fortune. She looked confused, mildly amused, and maybe hungry. He sensed something deeper, maybe a sadness, and he decided to lay it on a little thicker.
He sang louder, strummed more passionately, held out bigger notes, and yet- she still looked like she was more irritated that the crowd wouldn't move.

The singer's intensity increased. As the music swelled, Lorelei saw the emotion swell just as much in the crowd, like a wave of nostolgia hit each and every one of them. But she remained confused, if mildly entertained by it all. They locked eyes, and she managed a friendly smile at the performer. Gently, she knelt down and put some Euros into the guitar case, before her phone began to ring.

"Hello?" she asked, unable to hear the reply. "Er, Patrick, hang on a mo."

She put a hand over her ear, and dislodged herself from the crowd. Finally able to hear, she suddenly wished she was still stuck in the din of the gathering. He sounded cranky, which never meant nice things.

"Yeah, I needed to get back to my studio," she offered, voice limp. "Um...well, no, I have time...but I wanted to get a head start..."

Slowly, her shoulders began to sink. "....fine, okay. I'll...I'll head back. Bye."

At first Declan was confused at the lack of effect, but now he was just plain irritated. He watched dumbfounded as she looked around at the crowd instead of being transfixed by him. She smiled at him and he almost stopped the song completely. Not out of irritation at this point, but because of shock. She smiled at me, he marveled, Not because of the song or the charms, but just to smile. Declan couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
His irritation returned when she answered her phone. It was blatant, blunt and it put him off completely. The irritation was followed, however, by something a little bit darker, more sinister and evasive. It had happened when she answered the phone. Declan didn't know what it meant, Or who was on the other line, but he didn't like it.
He made up his mind as he ended the song. The crowd cheered and he managed a half-smile before the crowd heartily greeted him and he barely managed to slip away before they asked questions.

"Right, be back soon," Lorelei's voice went down an Octave with each word, the disappointment very clear in her voice. Then, quite suddenly, she straightened up, looking worried. "What? No, of course I want to! I-I'm always happy to see y-"

She was silenced by the man on the other end, her body curling inward with each word. As the phone clicked off, she swallowed hard. Lorelei slowly put the phone back in her purse, fingers trembling. He was angry, really angry, and it sounded like he began early with the beers. She clenched her fist in worry, gnawing on the knuckle. I should wait for him to calm down...oh, but he'll be so angry if I take any longer...

Suddenly, she was aware of a presence behind her. She turned, wide-eyed, before giving another friendly smile. The performer had pushed himself out of the crowd of thankful townsfolk, looking to be adjusting that jacket of his. She shyly pulled the collar of her shirt closed, and eased herself forward.

"Um, hi," she managed, voice sweet. "That song was sure something."

Declan wasnt sure how to answer. Like usual, he sounded more curt and gruffer than he meant.
"You sure?" He said in a low voice(it somehow projecting over the din of the crowd). Even his accent made him sound more sarcastic than he meant.
"Tanks, I mean. Cheers." He meant to turn away right that instant and leave her there before she could freak him out anymore with her lack of susceptibility, but instead he did something he rarely did. Helooked into her eyes and read her. He saw pain. And love. And fear. It was like watching an 8mm on an old sheet.
He saw her first public speaking attempt in middle school and how nervous she was. He saw her cry on valentines day the day after her first love left her. He saw hours of work and love and hope drawn onto a single painting. All at once something changed within him.
He reached out with an age old ability his father had given him.
He'll do it again.
With that, he walked past her and fixed his blazer, trying not to notice how incredibly pretty she was.

Her eyes continued to widen, a strange feeling flowing through her veins. As the dublin winds brushed about her mahogany tresses, Lorelei couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been examined somehow. Why do I feel like just got naked for the doctor? she wondered, just as the mystery man walked away. She instinctively pulled her coat up higher, cheeks turning pink.

Her phone beeped at her. She quickly pulled out her phone, and saw about three texts from Patrick, demanding to know what was taking her so long. That fear flooded her system again. There was no point in staying away now.

With a shudder, she put the phone back, and turned to walk back on home.

~~~~~~~~

"Patrick?"

The slob still hadn't cleaned up. The smell of cheep beer and whiskey permeated around the room, various bits off clothes scattered about the room. In her haste to leave, Lorelei was almost sure some of her jewelry was still here. Carefully, the brunette stepped iniside and called out for the 'master' of the house. She stepped around a broken bottle, just as she heard that familiar cough.

"Where the hell were you?" a voice gurgled. "You running off with some f**** in town?"

Patrick was sitting in his chair, as per usual. He wasn't an unattractive man, or at least he used to be. His body was muscular in build, with a thick beard covering his chin, and scraggly black hair going down his back. He hadn't changed into clean clothes yet, and was sprawled out in boxers and a t-shirt, bear in hand.

"What?! No!" Lorelei quickly said, putting her purse down. "You know I wouldn't do that."

"Bull," he said, eyeing her. "As soon as it was morning, you shot out of here like a bat outta hell; who were you meeting?"

"No one." Lorelei narrowed her eyes, and crossed her arms. "I told you, I just had to go back to my studio."

"Those god-damn paintings!" He suddenly swore, dropping the bottle, and rounding on her. "You lying bitch, there's no way in hell you could have that many orders! Who where you talking to?!"

Lorelei backed up, only to have her wrist painfully snatched up. He yanked her back to him, staring hard into his eyes.

"Who was he?!" he yelled again. When she whimpered in reply, the back of his hand slapped her hard on the left side of her face. "WHO THE HELL WAS HE?!"

"You're hurting me!" she sobbed, trying to yank her wrist back. "Let me go!!"

"Declan, and I'd really like it if you stopped using that word."
The door shut behind him with a click and his expression was grim. He eyed Patrick for a split second before he hummed a low note, resonating in his chest.
The windows shattered as what sounded like an electronic bass drop slammed Patrick into the TV set. The contact was isolated, in that the impact only slammed into Patrick. Save for the windows, TV set and the now groaning Patrick, everything else in the room was untouched. He walked to the squirming man without looking at the girl, and whispered something in his ear. Patrick's expression went blank for a moment, and he looked at Declan in terror, then Lorelei in confusion.
"He doesn't know who you are."

Patrick fell back, and Lorelei recoiled back immediately. She shuddered, trying to hold back the tears that had already started falling down her cheeks. Cradling her now broken wrist to her chest, she turned her head up to see her rescuer whisper something into Patrick's ear, making him look at her like he never met her.

"Who...the hell are you?" he asked. "How'd you get into my house?"

In that moment, she wasn't sure what hurt more; her broken limb, or the sudden rejection. She should have been happy, should have been delighted that she was free to go. And yet....

She shook her head, curling up into a ball. She softly sobbed into her knees, body shaking.

"Who are you?" she whimpered, looking up at the sudden stranger. "What did you do?"

"Nothing permanent. Except his memory. He'll never remember you again. "
He thought of reaching out to her but he figured it would scare her. Instead he softened his voice.
"Its OK now. Its time to get up now. Just like you did after you fell off of your tricicle and no one was home. Do you remember? Skinned knees and a sprained wirst. You can do it again."
He muttered a quick low melody under his breath as he walked towards the door. Healing, for her wrist.
"Who I am isn't important. I need you to forget I was here. I don't want to have to sing you the same song I did him." With that, he turned to walk out o the door, intending to leave her life forever.

"What?" It was exactly as he said, right down to those two skinned knees. Her mind whirled in fear, and she tried to figure out how the hell he knew that? Was he following her? Had he been stalking her this whole time?

And then, he turned to leave. Lorelei glanced back at Patrick, who was trying to shakily stand up. She had a half-notion to call the ambulance for him, but the twinge of pain from her wrist silenced any sense of emotion she had. Instead, she steeled her spine and rose to her feet, heading out the door.

"Y-you wait a minute!" she said, her voice cracking on the last word. "How do you know any of that?"

She broke into a jog, stepping in front of him. She looked nervous, but her stance was determined.

"That was...very kind of you," she said, voice shaking. "But how do you know all that about me? Who are you?"

He stopped in the apartment hall. He paused before speaking, weighing his words.
"I know a lot. I can do a lot of things. I have to go. "
He fought a huge urge to hold the girl, to tell her not to worry, that everything is OK. But he didn't.
Besides, he had somewhere to be.

Lorelei was left standing, unsure what to do now. The man who was supposed to give her a home now couldn't remember her name (shoot, how was she supposed to get her stuff now?) and the man who had done so was vanishing into the shadows. She sighed in frustration, ealizing that the pain in her wrist was gone.

But.... her mind guessed it wasn't broken after all. She shrugged, staring back at where this strange man had stood, before heading back inside.

She should at least try to get her things....

Declan made his way down the cobblestone, cursing himself. He shouldn't have interfered, and he knew it, but he also couldn't let someone like her suffer because of that alcoholic pig.
That's one more person that has seen what you can do, he scolded himself.
Yeah, but that's also one less person getting hurt.
He remembered the look on her face after she saw his sonic outburst, the fear and confusion, and found little comfort.
He hadn't done it because she was beautiful (though she was)he had done it because of what he had seen when he searched her heart and soul. He had done it because she was good. Genuinely good. It surprised him. She had a beautiful soul.
He reached his destination, an old pub in a darker, lonelier side of Dublin. An old wooden sign read "t e Cat's Eye" with the 'h" chipped off.
He met the swiveling gaze of about fifteen old denizens when he entered, each of which squinted at him due to the low yellow light. The room was quiet, melancholy and still. There were several seated throughout the pub, in corners reading a paper, in booths sipping on dark beer, in corners alone. A barely lit stage lay forgotten-looking on the far wall opposite the door. Declan was glad that it was exactly how he had remembered it from twenty years before, and decided that it was perfect.
The barman looked at him as he approached doubtfully."You may be in the wrong pub, boyo. This here place is for the old and dusty." He cackeled and Declan almost smiled.
"The porter."
The barman filled a glass, and Declan took it. He reached into that secret pocket in his mind where the warmth and mystery was, and grasped a metaphorical handful. I'll start my set in a half hour.
The barman agreed after a short blank pause. "I must've forgotten I booked ya, boyo. Pardon the lapse."
Declan nodded agreeably and went to the stage, while over-hearing something interesting. He heard a snippet of conversation from a younger man that had returned from what seemed to be a phone call. "...stranger den all hell. He rang and said his back is right sore and dere was a strange woman in his apartment with another man. He ain't comin' out boys, but I wonder how his lass is doin'? Her credit card is still here, least barman says. Poor Patrick, but he's gonna lose dat lass o' his if she keeps havin' ta pay his tab."
Declan couldn't believe the coincidence. He couldn't risk staying too long. He'd have to play quickly and leave.
He tuned Amie.

Patrick was less than enthused about the strange woman gathering lady things out of his house. But he was also giving her a strange amount of distance to do so, eyeing her with a look of fear that must have mirrored her own ages ago. Either way, her small suitcase was packed, and she was finally out of the house. It felt odd, and a little scary, but something about it felt refreshing.

I just wish I knew where to go now, she thought, heading down the street. I guess I can find room at one of these places, but still...

She eyed the pubs wearily, finally stumbling on The Cat's Eye; Patrick's favorite drinking hole. They would likely recognize her if she walked in, what would they do when they saw her? She put her fingers to her cheek in thought, before pulling them back with a wince; that spot where his hand hit her was still fresh.

I need to get my card number out, she thought with resolve. That done, she steeled her spine, and walked in.

Declan had already started playing when Lorelei entered. He had tuned, sighed, then began his favorite sort of set- a set for himself. Thus was different than playing for those crowds, in town squares where their problems and solutions took priority. No, every word and note, every pause and exertion was for Declan. It was sorrowful, sweet, convicting. There was little guitar work, less words.
The effect this music had on a the pub was undeniable. It was somber, mournful but alluring. When he sang, it was coffee flavored self-loathing, bitter beer and honey whiskey. Old men spoke softly of young loves, fathers teared up over summers with their now busy children, of regrets they could never take back.
He only did this every few months, but he did it because he needed to. Years ago he had wondered if it was right to put his audience in such a sad stupor, but he realized again the sadness in their hearts. He picked old, lonely pubs, with downcast doors and no windows. These men were here to remember, to forget, and to feel sorry for themselves and what they had done. It was their happiness, awful as that may be. So, Declan sang. Slow, hard, passionately, gently. He was a sky full of tears and an ocean full of air.

Lorelei opened the door, and the mood seemed to suddenly turn sour. She recognized the man at the stage, and remembered the odd thing he had done for her. Was he the one making everyone here so sad and lonely? Was he the one who, with songs of such sweet memories, made everyone so overjoyed? The idea was enough to make her head spin, and she rubbed her eyes.

Pulling herself back up, the small brunette gently approached the barman.

"eh, 'mornin," she greeted. "I'm here to take my card off Patrick Donelle's tab, if I may..."

"Hm?" The barman looked up. "Oh...Miss Messlan. Sure, no problem..."

He led her back to the bar, where the machine began to work his magic. Unable to help his curiosity, the barman spoke in a low voice. "Leaving?"

"For now, I guess," she answered, wrapping an arm around herself. "Though I don't know where to go right now. I don't really have any family here to stay with..."

Declan had just finished the song when he saw Lorelei approach the bar. He wanted to be irritated but was instead..glad.what are you so excited about? Shut up. Get away from here before she gets caught up.. So, naturally, he made his way to the bar, picking up the last sentence spoken. He had no control over what his body was doing. His mind scoffed at himself while his body grabbed her hand and pulled her over to a booth.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, looking straight into her eyes. They stunned him, like staring I to the sun.

Before anyone could answer her, someone had taken her hand. Lorelei let out a small squeak a she was gently tugged to the booth, made to sit down across from the man who had shaken up her entire world. She stared back at him, attempting to decipher why the sudden change. When that failed, she decided in the direct approach.

"I'm...nervous, but I'll be okay," she said, clasping her hands.. "I have to admit, this is a sudden change. You didn't seem all that worried about me a few hours ago..."