Chillaxin' with Beady

>Be Anon, working around the house on a sunny Thursday afternoon with some music playing in the background.
>Beady, on the other hand, is in the room she commandeered for her taxidermy/art/biological experiments. Or at least she was.
>She's kicking it in the den right now, on the couch
>Your house/human hideaway/fortress of Evil and Pancakes is currently a ghoulish museum of stuffed dead animals, skeletons, and various specimens in jars
>Some of them are animated. Not sure how the little minx managed that trick, but they can mix drinks and clean.
>You're not letting them cook anything but toast, though, after the Potatopocalypse.
>You rarely get pony visitors anymore, other than the recent run of weirdos who started paying money to see you. Which suits you fine.
>You flop down on the couch next to her for a breather with a couple of beers. You're long since out of Newcastle and Kirin, but the local stuff's grown on you. She edges away slightly.
>girl likes her space. You toss her a beer.
>You sit there in silence for a while, sipping your brews. You look at her out of the corner of your eye, and see her head bouncing slightly to the music
>"Whats' the name of this piece?" she asks.
>"Song."
>"Whatever." She finishes her beer. "What's the name?"
>"'You Look Like a Jew,'" you say.
>"No, I look like an owl," she says. What sense of humor she has is both ultra-dry and just a bit morbid. You're honestly not sure she's joking.
>"No, that's the name of the song. By Pussy Galore." The playlist segues into the next song. "And this is "Cunt Tease." Same group.
>"Vulgar." You listen to it for a while. Once again, she's sort of barely nodding to the music.
>"So what do you think?" you ask her. You pass her some jerky you keep in a bowl. No idea what animal it comes from, since cows are sapient here, but it's teriyaki flavored
>Just as well. Cows are decent people.
>She thinks for a moment.

>After a long, long pause, she finally says, "My observation--it's atonal. Discordant, grating. Harsh, and irritating. Complex."
>One of her animated skeleton/muscle golem things wanders by, sweeping up the floor.
>You've nicknamed the little things "scutters," since they seem to share their creator-programmer's morbid personality, it's their function and that's what they remind you of.
>When they're not under orders, you see them in the back quietly playing cards. Or just staring out the window and brooding.
>You wonder if she'd appreciate Red Dwarf.
>"The music reminds me of you. What you say your world was like," she says.
>She's munching her jerky absently.
>"You find me irritating?"
>"I find everyone irritating," she says.
>She simply lacks a filter and says whatever she thinks. You asked a question, she answered honestly.
>You don't take it personally, If she didn't like you or get something out of this, she wouldn't be here with you in the first place.
>"Another beer?" You hand her another, and she takes it without a word.
>The playlist comes to the end of the Pussy Galore set and goes into Naked Raygun's "Soldier's Requiem." "Anon?" Beady asks.
>"Yeah?"
>"Would you mind if we listened to Pussy Galore again?"

****

>Peep enters the room where you and Beady are drinking beer and mostly sitting in companionable silence.
>"'Sup, guys" she says. Beady says nothing, but inclines her head slightly.
>Oh crap. "Just a sec," you say. You get up to randomly tap this next track on your laptop's music playlist before it can quite register with Peep.
>You're not sure 'Pigeon Kill' is going to go over well with her. At the very least, it's in poor taste.
>You sit down in time for the next song to begin pouring through the den's speakers.
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yhuMLpdnOjY [Embed]
>Oh crap. You get up and try to stop the track. Unfortunately, the player is lagging and unresponsive.
>Fucking iTunes is a POS, man. In all seriousness it is
>Peep's jaw drops in shock as Tom Lehrer's melodious voice echoes through the house, discussing the finer points of birb-murdering.
>And squirrels, because fuck squirrels.
>You look up up at an unfamiliar sound--Beady's chortling. You almost never hear it, and she's got an interesting laugh.
>iTunes finally gets the bug out of its ass and stops on its own. Shit. You look at the stricken expression on Peep's face.
>"I can come back later?" she offers.
>"Can we maybe rewind back to the point where you came into the room and just start over again? And pretend you didn't hear any of that?" you say sheepishly?
>Beady's howling with laughter now.
>Fucking drunk owlpones, man.