(no subject)
There's a small someone in the lobby, seated at the piano. He frowns at the keys for a minute, then hops off the bench and peeks inside to try and find some music. He is successful, of course, as most people are if they're looking for the right things here. He manages to scramble back on the bench and starts to play a simple song, probably something like "Mary Had a Little Lamb." His mother is seated off to the side, taking notes and looking at proofs for the latest edition of the newsletter. She's here because she doesn't trust Lex -- this hotel, quite yet, or, really, some of the inhabitants in it. Both are quite free to be bothered.