detox.

approachable.

"greetings, mister marshmallow."

em, shady, slim - whatever i was supposed to address him as - wore a bewildered expression as he stood in the doorway of my humble workplace. i hoped i hadn't already managed to offend him.

"sorry," i quickly apologized as i walked over to face him, "trying to lighten the mood."

damn, his eyes were blue.

"nah," he replied, visibly becoming less tense, "s'aight. i just wasn't expectin' you to be so laid back. kind of a relief, actually."

his voice was deep, too. did he mean to stare that intensely?

"well," i began nonchalantly, stepping aside so that he would have room to enter fully, "welcome to the studio a-la-rubin. this is where all the magic happens, at least for me." i shrugged.

he looked like he was scanning every inch of the room.

"could you..have a bigger space, if you wanted?" he spoke cautiously, as if attempting to avoid making me feel insulted.

"oh yeah, definitely. i just prefer it to be more intimate like this.." i trailed off, giving it a good once-over myself before turning to him. "don't you?"

"it is pretty cozy," he admitted, gazing up at the warm, dim lights that hung from the low cieling. "guess i'm not used to that."

i gave him a rare grin. "better make yourself at home. we'll be spending a lot of time together."

he nodded, reaching up and scratching the back of his head. he then pressed his tongue to his cheek, apparently to supress a smile.

"rick told me, like, your whole life's story - but not your name."

"ace," i stated simply, settling down into one of two rolling chairs and patting the one next to me. "sit."

i noticed that he was holding a notebook when he followed my command.

"how much do you have written, mar-"

i cleared my throat, correcting myself.

"em?"

he smirked. "you can call me by my real name. it's cool."

hmph. he didn't seem like that type.

"alright."

"anyways, i might have enough for maybe five tracks here.." he fiddled with the corner of the book without opening it.

"it's just so sporradic, how i get everything down. we gotta put it together an' make sense out of it."

i was liking this "we" business already.

slowly and hesitantly, i reached over and touched the cover.

"can i?"

"oh, uh.." he swallowed, like that would wash down his nerves.

"..yeah."

with his permission granted, i grabbed it eagerly and took in every ink-covered page. a few phrases written large enough to be assumed as titles caught my eye. going through changes. talkin' to myself. almost famous.

i cleared my throat. "so, recovery, huh?" i prompted, referrencing the name of the album in order to slip into a conversation about its overall concept. "fitting. congrats on..making it."

to get a better understanding of his mindset going into the project, i had done some research on the nature and details of his addiction, including his nearly fatal overdose.

"thanks." jesus, was there something he wanted to tell me, or was he trying to memorize my every feature for some reason? "feel like my head's a lot more clear now."

"why don't you, um.." i gestured to the black leather jacket he was wearing, "..take that off? i mean, if you want. it can get kinda warm in here."

"oh, it'll get hotter once i'm out of it." he snickered.

well then.

guess that was the sense of humor dad mentioned?

i couldn't hold back a chuckle. "a little cocky, are we?" i teased, glancing back down at the opened notebook in my lap as he removed his jacket and slung it around the back of the chair he occupied.

i laughed again, but this time he sounded alarmed about it.

"huh?" he demanded.

"oh, no, it's nothing bad. just this one line.." i read what i was reffering to in the most childishly amused tone in the world. "dick is too short of a word for my dick-"

"get off my antidisestablishmentarianism, you prick," he finished bluntly. he displayed an immensely smug look. one that i could definitely get used to seeing.

"now, that's good," i noted, "but i know i'm only gonna be even more impressed as we go on."

he seemed to soften a bit at my sincere praise. "i mean, i can say the same about your producin'," he countered. "i had to beg rick to even ask you to do this wit me," he mumbled, perhaps thinking that if he said it fast enough i wouldn't notice.

"marshall mathers begged, for me?" i scoffed. "that's cute."

i'd caught him off guard. "cute?"

"yep." i closed the notebook and passed it back to him.

"how about we mess with some beats?"