interlude
Someone is down in the Kashtta's piano room, very quietly playing Debussy's Clair de Lune.
It's one of the first songs he mastered as a child. It's also something he hasn't played in decades, but you probably wouldn't be able to tell.
This has happened before, he thinks, fingers moving gently (and a bit cautiously) against the keys. He remembers it. ( Read more... )
It's one of the first songs he mastered as a child. It's also something he hasn't played in decades, but you probably wouldn't be able to tell.
This has happened before, he thinks, fingers moving gently (and a bit cautiously) against the keys. He remembers it. ( Read more... )
She doesn't mean to be a creeper. It just sort of happens.
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"Hello," he says, without turning his attention away from the keys.
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"Hullo," she says, accent clear. "That's pretty. The song, I mean."
As though he wouldn't have known otherwise.
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... still, that was funny.
He grins to himself, turning his head just a little toward her. "Thank you. It's Debussy."
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Probably.
She never could remember names of dead composers anyway. The piece is familiar, which means she probably should remember what it's called. She shrugs and slides down the wall nearest the piano until she's sitting. "Don't let Bristow catch you playing his piano. Even if it's not his, he'll probably... stare you to death or something."
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His fingers still and he blinks over at her, one eyebrow slightly raised.
"Does he have laser vision?"
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"No," she gasps. "Turns into a dog, though."
She really only says it because she figures Jack would be annoyed at her for doing so.
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"I don't think I have much to worry about," he remarks, picking back up on the exact note and chord he left off on. The way he sees it, he can always just... find some food and use it as a distraction! Or a tennis ball, maybe.
(With his luck, this Bristow fellow's dog-form will turn out to be a massive shepherd or something.)
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"Good luck." Abby salutes him dryly. "'m Abby, by the by. Abby Maitland."
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"I just moved in a few days ago. Came from the Conrad with Juliet."
Namedropping for the sake of small talk is always fun!
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Her stomach gives an automatic twist of nausea, and the smell of pureed human being rushes in around her again. She has to close her eyes and count to ten to make it go away.
She takes a long, deep breath of air that does not taste like blood and bile and unmentionables and listens to Daniel play.
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His playing slows a bit as he thinks back and over to his first arrival, when he saw the Rift.
And then he's back on the correct tempo, just in time to finish the last few measures.
"Any requests?"
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Yes, because 'Tchaikovsky' is totally a singular selection.
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A pause.
"... I think."
He stares at the keys for a few moments before he begins to play this.
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