berlioz-the-pianistâ:
Berliozâs eyes curiously watched her move around the kitchen, warmly smiling at her. Â Perhaps it was his terrible habit of trusting people too quickly, but he was starting to feel more at ease around her. The invasion to stay for dinner did surprise him a bit; he had half expected her to kick him out after allowing him to use the phone, but instead of writing back a response, he very softly replied, âDinner sounds lovely.â He cleared his throat a bit, âS-so does seeing the garden at night. I trust you know your garden best, and if you say that it is a sight to behold at that hour, Iâd like to see it. Um, I..Iâm sorry about writing on my notepad at first.â He held the notepad out for her to see the different types of notes from previous conversations he had in it, âI..I do it a lot. I promise I wasnât trying to be rude.â He gently assured, before curiously asking, âIf I stay, c-could, I help with dinner too?â
Rosetta was surprised to hear him speak, her eyes widening a bit before a smile fell onto them gracefully. âYour voice is nice, good to hear.â She nodded, turning to face him as she looked over his notebook thoughtfully. She really didnât want to intrude by asking why heâd needed it in the first place, handing it back with a nod. âNo need to be sorry, iâm just glad to have some company tonight. I normally watch them on my own so..yeah.â The brunette shrugged, tucking a few loose curls behind her ear before turning back to the food sheâd began to prepare. âOf course! Thereâs some veggies there you could cut up if ya wanna do that?â She glanced over her shoulder at him with her usual sweet smile. âIâm Rosetta by the way, and you?â












