Robert Frobisher is locked up in his room, composing music. He can be sighted in the kitchen, at odd hours, and barely speaks to anyone. He'll be politely distracted to people he's been friendly with, promptly excusing himself and blaming art for his lack of manners. The only exceptions to this are Natalie, with whom he practices the quatre-main ( Read more... )

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This is a RP journal for carpe_ho_ras. Both the puppet and the typist are over eighteen.