Tender fingers daintly grasp onto a black guitar pick styled with calligraphy of Arctic Monkeys, one of the bands he loves more than others and was gifted to him on his twelve birthday by his older brother, when he had just begun the lessons -- a little gesture to have him more enlivened to learn wholeheartedly. Speaking of wholeheartedly, that is also a word to depict his smile which is now (unlike other ocassions) is genuine and amiable. He offers her the smile as some sort of an venture to conclude the experience; pleasant and harmonic, just like her voice. Clearly that he has enjoyed streaming his guitar, now his forearm rests comfortably atop of it and he gives the silence a moment or two to settle down between them -- never enough to overshadow the atmosphere negatively, just enough for amenity. The melody which he had previously played was tranquil and sedate and now he believes, after hearing her voice revealed to him, that she’s just perfect for the tune that he’s picked playing for her. If only he had some audacity to sing along... perhaps next time. Perhaps not. ❛ Woah, you sang so well... I’d suggest auditioning to debut as a singer but you already have, hah. ❜ It is an endeavor (maladroit and gauche nonetheless sufficing) to bring a laughter from her side ... yet, he is certain that solely his anserine demeanor is worthy of a chuckle or so, only that at times it does not derive from the intention he wished for. Oh well, he’s smiling kindly enough to convalesce his folly before speaking again, his gaze is mellow and cordial as per usual once they make eye contact. ❛ This was fun, I gotta admit. Didn’t think I’d enjoy it so much... ❜