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"Fucking Springsteen!"
Curt cuts himself off, turning to Owen with a pout. "Oh, lay off already."
"I will not! Every single time we sit down to practice, we say 'Curt, what would you like to sing?' And everytime you bust out Bruce fucking Springsteen!"
"The solution to that," The informant says, "Is to stop asking Curt."
"Yes, love, but he's our frontman."
Curt grins cheekily and leans into Owen's ear. "The solution to that is to not make me frontman," He laughs.
In Curt's defense, practically everyone has, at some point, attempted to convince Owen he should be the frontman for the band. He has the natural charisma and sexual presence to start a Twitter riot in honor of his package.
However, Owen argues that his voice is too rough, even for rock n roll, and that Curt is what the 'music bizz' calls 'effortlessly handsome'. It also doesn't help that Curt has the voice of a siren.
"I think Curt sounds like a siren when he sings Bruce Springsteen," Barb says cheerfully.
"You'll say anything to disagree with me after I got a better grade than you on our civics test."
"Doesn't mean it isn't true, Carvour."
"I like Bruce," Curt whines.
"We know, Curt."
"He's a classic!"
"There are plenty of classics, Curt, but every fucking song we play can NOT be Springsteen."
"Barb, give me a chord?"
Barb obliges, pressing one on her keytar, and Curt hums a moment until he matches the pitch.
"Boooooorn down in a dead man's town- And the first kick I took was when I hit the ground!"
Chaos erupts.
Owen pulls Curt into what appears to be a chokehold but quickly turns into tickling, while Curt croons, at the top of his lungs, "BOOOOORN IN THE USA! I WAS BOOOOOOORN IN THE USA!"
"For God's sake," The informant says with an amused eye roll, "Break them up, Barb, please."
Barb plays out the opening notes to Rebel Rebel, and Curt and Owen stop immediately, Curt grabbing Owen's hands and singing in his ear.
"GOT YOUR MOTHER IN A WHIRL! SHE'S NOT SURE IF YOU'RE A BOY OR A GIRL!"
"Now," Barb says evenly. "Can we actually start working on some songs this time around?"
"Barb's right," Owen groans. "We can't play covers for the rest of our life."
The informant pipes in with "I've written plenty of-"
"Songs," The group replies, "So many songs, we know, we know."
"Well, you never let me play them!"
"We let you play Bright all the time," Barb says gently.
"But that's the only one!"
"Because it's the only good one, honey."
"In a normal band," Curt says cheekily, "The vocal lead writes the songs."
"Well, unless we want to play a concert on James Bond's left asscheek-"
"I could write a song or two about his right, on occasion, if I really try-"
"Curt is not allowed to write songs," Barb states plainly.
"Then why is Curt the frontman?"
"Because Curt is pretty."
"It's true," The informant agrees reluctantly.
Curt winks. "See, O? They get it."
"Yes, yes, you're very handsome, dear. Now, can we get in at least one song before lunch?"
"If you're nice to me," Curt smirks.
"Oh Christ," Owen murmurs, looking up from the table.
"Wh- oh. Here comes the Deadliest Man Alive," The informant says sarcastically. "And company."
"Ugh."
"Wait. Look," Barb frowns. "They're headed towards Tatiana Slozhno."
"Who?"
"The redhead with the ponytail. I have her for a chem project, she's pretty nice!"
"Hm. Wonder what she's done to piss him off."
The Deadliest Man Alive snaps something, followed by laughter from his rookies. Then, Tatiana says something quietly. However, the DMA's offended reply is heard loud and clear.
"Oh my god," Curt groans loudly, "Just shut up, man."
The DMA turns around, glaring. "Hmph. I didn't realize you two were friends, Mega."
"Hey, anyone that pisses you off is an ally in my book."
Tatiana chuckles softly.
"I'd be careful getting involved with people like them, love," The DMA sneers. "I see them creeping around all the time, nose-deep in notebooks and eavesdropping on people" He says dryly. "Don't know why, actually. Mega's thick as a pile of bricks, those books must make his head hurt."
It's that moment that Tatiana- quiet, unsociable, nonviolent Tatiana, says, "Really? Hm. Let's see if it hurts your head, then," and chucks the book directly at his face.
There's a collective gasp from onlookers, and a barely-concealed squeal from Barb.
The DMA, for his part, curls his hands into fists and looks as though he's trying not to snap someone's neck. "If you know what's good for you, Mega, you'll keep your weird little spies away from us." He storms off, shooting them a glare the whole time.
"I can't believe you just did that," Barb says, awed.
"I can't believe I just did that," Tatiana says, proud.
"Is it just me," Curt says, "Or would spies be a killer band theme?"
"Band?"
"Yep," Curt says proudly. "Heard of us?"
"How would she have possibly heard of us if we don't even have a name, love?"
"News of genius travels fast."
"Uh-huh..." Tatiana says dryly. "I was not aware of your band, no. What kind of music do you write?"
"Rock covers, mostly," Barb smiles. "We're hoping to write our own songs eventually, but it's not really anyone's strong suit."
"Hm. Well, if you would ever like help, I write some on the side."
Barb perks up. "Really? Do you write music or lyrics?"
"Both, I suppose."
"You should join," Curt grins. "We could really use the talent."
"Curt," Owen hisses, "We can't just invite people to join when we don't know anything about them! She might not even be a good fit."
"Tatiana. Do you like rock?"
"Yes?"
"Do you like getting lunch at Sonic?"
"I suppose?"
"Alright, most important question: Do you like spies?"
Tatiana blinks, perplexed. "Spies?"
"Yeah! They're our theme."
"Even though they haven't been relevant for years," The informant jokes.
Tatiana hums. "Well, I'm not sure about that. They might not be as popular as they once were, but they still influence a lot of things about our modern culture."
"Exactly," Curt cheers, "Spies are forever!" He pauses, then snaps his fingers. "Owen! Write that down!"
"Why?"
Curt spins around, looking offended. "Why? Why? We just found our band name!"
"No we didn't."
"Too late! It's the name! Courtesy of our new songwriter!"
"I haven't even agreed to join," Tatiana says dryly.
Curt pouts. "Fine. Will you join?"
Tatiana rolls her eyes, smiling slightly. "I will... Attend one practice and see."
"I'll take it."