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"My power is called 'heartsong', so...basically, yes," Manolo says. It's a bit more complicated than that, though, in the sense that his heart truly has to be in it. Thankfully, music is such a strong part of him that he hasn't had that issue yet.

"It's not enough to just use my voice, though," he adds. "The most important ingredient, I think, is my guitar."

Heartsong. That was actually pretty cute.

Anyway, it has his interest. "Is this your superpower, or whatever? Healing people with your guitar?" Marty shakes his head, looking down to his feet. "Sounds a hell of a lot better than what I got stuck with. Not like having powers with a guitar would do me any good, anyway." Marty snorts. "Gotta be able to play a guitar to have the powers."

He's drowning in self-pity, excuse him.

“I can heal pains in the heart, help people feel lighter, happier, relaxed…those kinds of things,” Manolo explains. “Sometimes my music encourages people too, like before they go into battle. And during battle, I’m able to protect others with my songs. There are other uses, too, probably…I haven’t discovered all of them yet."

His heart really aches for this guy, though, and Manolo lightly rests a hand on his shoulder. “I promise, I will do everything I can to help you”

For once in years, Marty has a little hope. He has to hang onto something here; he's in a world where he can shoot fire from his hands. Maybe this guy can heal his aches and pains. He figures, what the hell.

"Thanks." He looks over to Manolo with a small, tired smile. "It'll be good to give this a shot. A lot of the doctors I've seen said my wrist is too messed up to even fix." He shakes his head. "I don't know what the hell happened in that car crash, but it wasn't pretty. It messed me the hell up. A lot."

He looks over to the musician, tilting his head. "Have you used your magic powers here?"

"It must have," he softly says, "if even modern medicine couldn't help." Manolo can't imagine taking an injury that would deprive him of his music. He'd rather go blind or lose a foot than let anything happen to his hands.

The question leads to happier thoughts, though, and he smiles. "Yes, many times. I have healed injuries of imPorts and natives alike and played for children with cancer at the hospital. I also have a friend with an illness, and my songs bring relief for his symptoms. Every chance I get, I share my abilities with others."

Marty nodded. If this guy could cure things like cancer, then maybe a busted wrist wasn't anything to bitch about. Or doubt, for that. All Marty could do was wait until they got to his apartment. If worse came to worse and this didn't work, well. What could you do.

He sniffs a bit, rubbing the back of his nose with his hand. "We almost there?"

He can’t exactly cure cancer, but he can reduce its symptoms and also restore a person’s vitality and strength after some of the more grueling treatments. This has helped some patients make speedy recoveries, while buying others significantly more time and energy to spend with friends and family before passing on. Chronic, serious illnesses are tricky because completely eliminating the exact cause isn’t usually possible for him – at least, not yet. Mending bones or patching wounds, though…that’s something he can usually do.

“It’s not far,” he assures him. “Just down the street. Look, you can see it from here.” Manolo points to the house in question and, after a few more minutes, leads the way to the front door.

“Have a seat, make yourself at home,” he says as he pushes the door open for Marty. “Do you want some water or juice?”

It isn't until they step inside of Manolo's apartment that Marty feels himself growing anxious. This would be the first time he attempted any kind of recovery at all for a very long time. Decades, maybe? When did he give up? It's been so long, his brain can't even remember the date. It's kind of weird, though; normally he could remember that pretty well. Maybe his memory was going.

"I'm fine. Thanks though." He smiled to Manolo, before sinking down into a chair. This guy was going to try and help him recover his lost music career. Marty couldn't mooch more off of him more than he already was. "Do whatever you gotta do first though. Okay?"

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