A man in his mid-twenties enters the hall, briefcase in hand, confused expression somewhat masked by a pair of sunglasses. Where the hell did the rest of the band go? He'll have to think about this. He's glad, at least, that he's got his briefcase and harmonica, and that there doesn't appear to be a force of cops waiting for him
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((ooc; Marius is from 1830 France. A harp, to him, is an actual harp- one of the big wooden things with lots of strings))
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((OOC: Makes sense, heh.))
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He shrugs. "Do you play?"
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And there's the question of the house again. Elwood shrugs, placing the harmonica back into the briefcase. "Don't really know. I'm getting an idea of what's going on here, but I don't understand a lot of it."
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