Eddie Redmayne at Lady Gaga’s concert in London - December 6, 2013
Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar
The Andrews Sisters
Fitzpatrick. Of course. No wonder he looked so familiar. Jasmine had a gift for remembering faces, just never coupled with the names that accompanied them, which was why she usually used little pet names or even nicknames designed to jog her memory. Yet another thing that Cohen saw as a fatal flaw in her acting. She used memory tricks and mixed up lines more often than he found acceptable. She was only human, after all. “Yah’re one o’ the disciples.” She responded with no lack of respect coloring her tone. “If yah are willin’ to escort lil’ ol’ me then yah should pick the location~” Her gaze inconspicuously flickered around the room, accent thickening with her rising anxiety.
"I am," Kyle nodded, with no recognition of the title having any real meaning. He was humble by nature, and was rather oblivious to his stardom. The pianists only focus relating was how he pleased his mentor, not whether his name was known. That was Cohen’s job.
"I’ve been told Sinclair Spirits has rather high quality drinks," Not that Kyle would know— his taste for booze was lacking, "If that suits your fancy….?" The redhead hesitated before holding out his arm for her to take, smiling rather sheepishly. If she was nervous herself, for whatever reason, he didn’t seem to pick it up. Or rather, he dismissed it as her recent disappointment thanks to Cohen.
12:Do they have a rivalry with someone?
No. When Kyle is compared to another, or put into a position where he would have to compete, Kyle tends to back down.
25: Any quotes or favourite quotes?
“If you cannot teach me to fly, teach me to sing.”
― J.M. Barrie
In the trunk at the foot of Kyle’s bed is every thing he could salvage from his childhood, and his family. Most of it is photographs, and things his mother had made him. Pieces of things his grandparents had given them topside. Trinkets and memories all hidden away at the foot of his bed.
“Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent”
― Victor Hugo
23:Do they gamble?
Not at all. Or not regularly at least, not that Kyle hasn’t “gambled” before. But it was just for fun because he had never played casino type games before.
27:What is life to them?
The arts. Sander Cohen. Taking this as what makes life matter, and not being alive, because asked that question he’d probably just respond with a confused “a pulse and breath?” For himself he sees Cohen as the sole reason he’s alive, even if there might have been some chance he would have survived in Rapture as a child on the streets. With that, playing the piano makes him happy, and if you don’t have some sort of joy in your life you can’t be enjoying life or appreciate it and it becomes more worthless, in a way.
33:What do they think of them self?
Where Kyle does not think highly of himself, he also doesn’t have a “woe is me” mind set about it. As if he has come to terms with the fact he is much lesser, and is completely happy with the thought, even if it’s not true. He ultimately puts everyone before himself, and treats everyone with respect (though depending on what they are, the respect can be forced, and a bit snobby, though this is rare)
Probably spawn from years of being talked down, he honestly believes he is lesser, and it’s just automatic, as if thinking “yes I was born in America so I’m American” It’s not an issue in his eyes.
Physically is another issue, because Kyle puts himself wholly into the arts, how he looks doesn’t come up unless pointed out. He thinks he is average, and doesn’t boast or worry about his looks. Though when confronted with a situation that would place his looks front and centre especially when compared to someone considered better looking, Kyle will get nervous and rather shy about himself.
4:Do they have any scars?
Some of Kyle’s more prominent scars are the ones under his palm, along his wrist from where he fell on a broken liquor bottle. Otherwise it’s just faint scars here and there from random mishaps.
When Kyle was little, he loved fruits because they were sweet like candy, but he wouldn’t get in trouble for eating a lot of them. In fact, he was more praised for “Eating so healthy!” So the pleasant memory associated, Kyle still enjoys fruits, and even more so when they become scarce in rapture.
Warm, spiced things. Like cider and tea.
[[I could be doing replies but I’m just rly happy about seeing a Martin on my dash. Okbye]]
There was a Rapture Zoo that was intended to be included in BioShock as a part of Fort Frolic. Multiple interviews with developers of the game mention that this was a level that was ultimately cut fairly far along in the design process due to time constraints, and they indicate that it was one of the things they most regretted having to cut. To date, no known art assets from the Zoo level have surfaced so virtually nothing is known about it. The only concrete information comes from an interview that mentions that it would have included an elephant.
RAPTURE HAS A ZOO.
The second he entered Fleet Hall, Jack’s heart sank. He ignored the taunts of the madman above; his focus had already been taken by the young man plastered to the grand piano, centre stage, his talented fingers skimming over the keys of the rigged instrument. He was slow in descending the stairs, drinking in what Cohen had done with saucer wide eyes. The man didn’t even seem to know he was there, then he did have more pressing things at hand to care about.
"Please- please, I’m tryin’" Kyle’s pleas rang out above the constant of music filling the decaying hall. His voice thick with fear, and stumbled over sobs ripped from his throat. If he weren’t so focused on his playing, Cohen might have scolded him for how his long forgotten accent marred his words.
He shuttered, and his finger slipped, and Cohen roared in frustration. Again, again, no, no, no. How could Kyle play in such a situation? It was one thing to have the man shouting over his shoulder— though that had never done him and favours either— but the ring of explosives plastered to his beloved instrument just counting down the seconds of his life made the redhead sloppy in his execution of the music.
Another slip of his hand could cost him his life.