"Just because your girlfriend's coming doesn't mean you get mic privileges."
Regan almost had to remind herself to act natural. Almost. But she didn't, because the whole 'hiding her sexuality and secret relationship' thing wasn't new. She already knew she had to act natural, and that didn't have to remind herself of that. It was just one of those things. Like, don't try to walk through a closed door, or wait for the car to stop moving before getting out. The point was, she'd been playing the double life card for long enough now that she knew the routine. Part of that routine was not to act like a spaz if anyone made a joke about Ruby being her girlfriend. Granted, that didn't really come up that often. And when it did, it was mostly because, to the outside observer, ruby was her best friend. Which wasn't untrue, but, you know. Girlfriend, too.
All the same, she could perhaps leverage Aidan's comment into holding the mic for at least one song. Regan didn't have flashes of non-musical inspiration often, but this might have been one of them. Her mind already working in the devious manner of something, eh, devious, Regan considered her options. Anger at Aidan's insinuation? Sorrow that he didn't think she was straight? What angle would work the guilt card the best? Regan wasn't exactly what you'd call manipulative, so her end decision would probably be the mental equivalent of flipping a coin. Her options all looked pretty much interchangeable to her. What about feigned indignation? Or was that the same as anger? Maybe disbelief? Question mark?
"See, that's not cool. You owe me at least one song for that comment. At least. Possibly more. Probably more. But at least one." She shook her head in disappointment. "My girlfriend. Not cool."
Ha, it was a little funny, in a way. Well, sort of funny. Funny in that it was an off-hand comment and not something he'd seriously considered probably. But a little funny. Ironic, was what it was. Historical irony, if she wasn't mistaken. Because her apparent history of, at best, disinterest in women. But, see, it was ironic because she really was into women. See? Irony. But historic irony, because her history...okay, joke made, moving on.
Of course, Aidan probably didn't have any idea regarding what team she actually played for. As...eccentric as she might be, that was one area of her life she played close to the vest.
Her mind briefly darted back to what they would play at practice. As musically diverse the tastes of the band went, they'd find some common ground. Foo Fighters, probably. Not so much that everyone agreed, but because Regan could be really loud/insistent/irritating when she felt it was called for. Hawke liked metal, Aidan liked pop-ish stuff (At least, that was what Regan classified it as), and [[Maybe Naomi? TBD]] liked playing whatever. So it was really up to Regan to champion straight-up rock music. Unless you counted Hawke's stuff, which she only sort of did. Anyway, that was a possible argument for later. Right now, Aidan needed convincing that she was clearly the best choice for a female singer in the band.
By this point, Aidan looked like he'd gone back to scribbling in his notebook. Which, for him, was probably for the best. Regan had already sort of but not really gotten him in trouble once this class. She made a loud 'pssst' noise, something shed seen in a movie once. The teacher on screen hadn't responded, so she assumed it was some magical sound beyond their range of hearing. Like a dog whistle, except opposite, and for people. When she made the same 'pssssssssst' sound again, She, belatedly, realized Monsieur Leonard was staring right at them. Well her.
"Quitter." Regan was already gathering her things. Monsieur Leonard was a forgiving guy, but she'd obviously pushed too far for one class. Well, lesson learned. Try not to disturb class quite so much. Got it. She slung her bag over one shoulder and her guitar over the other, carefully leaning across the desk to recover it first. She crossed the classroom and swiftly made her exit, pausing in the doorway to hold up one finger to Aidan. "One song." And, then, like some mysterious magician, she was gone, the only thing missing a puff of smoke.
((Regan Flagg, continued in Life is like a broken record