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[the_antiangst]

Angel's on his usual couch by the fire, with a notebook.
Unlike some people, there are no lyrics involved here. Unless they come up as a plan for driving the music out, anyway

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[broodingshadow]

Angel (Mwahahahaha) has been sticking to the shadows, observing people in the lobby of the Inn. He doesn't like what he's seen. People giving up sleep and food for this... music. Whatever it was. Not exactly a demon bent on possession, but then... what?

He's trying to see if this other person is writing lyrics on a notebook, too. But he really can't tell from this distance. No, he's not that good. Angel just likes to think he is.

[the_antiangst]

Angel's used enough to attracting attention that he knows someone's watching him before he tries to find the source. But eventually, trying to figure out the logistics of dealing with sentient music when not at the end of the universe loses to the nagging feeling of being watched.
"Can I help you?"
For what it's worth, he doesn't sound odd.

[broodingshadow]

Most people don't even notice him anymore. They're so wrapped up in the music that nothing else exists.

"I was just... observing." Because that sounds really healthy and not creepy at all. "Trying to see if you were like the rest of them. Writing music, too. You don't have that smell, though."

And now he really sounds creepy. Definetly wouldn't have said that if he'd been thinking and if he ever talked to humans, much. Stupid humans and their inability to smell weirdness.

[the_antiangst]

"...No, rather. I'm trying to figure out how to get it out of here, and counting my blessings that my best friend's not around for it this time. Stuff was bad enough the first time."
He's just gonna let the smell comment slide for now, actually. Even if, in the words of one Douglas Adams, the things are also people, not all of the people are human.